By Gabby Long
June has always felt powerful to me. It carries so much history, truth, and community all at once. With both Pride Month and Juneteenth taking place in June, it’s impossible to ignore how closely connected these movements are. At their core, both are people fighting to live openly, safely, and with dignity within systems that were never built for them to thrive. Too often, people talk about Pride and Juneteenth separately without acknowledging the intersection of Black liberation and LGBTQ+ liberation. But Black, queer, and trans people have always existed, always organized, and always been part of movements pushing this country forward. Their voices, leadership, and resilience helped shape the very foundation of what Pride became, while also continuing the broader fight for racial justice and equality.
When I think about Pride, I always think back to the very first Pride event I ever attended. I was really young, around seven at most, and honestly, I didn’t fully understand what Pride was yet. I didn’t know the history behind it or the decades of activism, discrimination, and resistance that made those spaces possible. But even as a child, I understood what I was seeing around me. I saw love. I saw joy. I saw people laughing, dancing, hugging, and existing so freely around one another. I remember the feeling more than anything else. Pride felt warm. It felt safe. There was music everywhere, bright colors, people celebrating themselves openly and unapologetically. At that age, I wasn’t thinking about politics or rights being debated. I just remember seeing happiness in a way that felt genuine and contagious.
Looking back now, I realize how powerful that actually was. There is something deeply meaningful about people creating joy in a world that has not always made space for them to exist safely. I think sometimes people misunderstand celebration as forgetting the painful parts of history, but it’s actually the opposite. Celebration can be survival. Gathering together, taking up space, telling stories, creating art, loving loudly, and refusing to shrink yourself after generations of oppression is powerful. Joy becomes proof that people are still here despite every attempt to silence them.
That’s why Pride and Juneteenth feel so interconnected to me. Both are rooted in resilience and perseverance. Both are reminders that liberation has always required people to keep showing up for one another, even when the odds were stacked against them. Juneteenth honors freedom delayed but never abandoned. Pride honors people who refused to hide themselves to make others comfortable. Both remind us that progress has always come from ordinary people demanding better for themselves, their families, and their communities.
Working in reproductive justice has made these connections even clearer to me over the years. Access to healthcare, bodily autonomy, racial justice, LGBTQ+ rights, economic justice, and community care are all tied together. The same communities facing barriers in one area are often facing them in others, too. That’s why intersectionality matters so much. None of these fights happen in isolation, and neither does liberation.
June also reminds me how much progress has always depended on ordinary people showing up for one another. Organizers, advocates, healthcare workers, artists, educators, parents, volunteers, and community members continue carrying this work forward every single day. Not because it’s easy, but because people deserve better. That perseverance is something worth honoring, too.
What I understood at seven still feels true to me now. Before I understood the politics behind Pride, I understood love. I understood kindness. I understood what it looked like when people felt free enough to celebrate themselves openly and without fear. That feeling has stayed with me all these years, and honestly, I think it’s at the heart of both Pride and Juneteenth. As we move through this month, I hope people take time to celebrate intentionally. Celebrate history, celebrate resilience, and celebrate the people who came before us and those continuing the work now. But most importantly, celebrate the ability to exist authentically and in community with one another. Because sometimes joy itself is resistance, and sometimes simply existing openly is its own kind of liberation.