Why Do We Still Need Pride? The History, Progress & Ongoing Fight for LGBTQ Equality

Why do we still need Pride in 2026?

Every June, people ask the same questions:

🏳️‍🌈 Why is there a Pride Month?
🏳️‍🌈 Why do LGBTQ people still need Pride?
🏳️‍🌈 Haven't we already achieved equality?
🏳️‍🌈 Why does Pride still matter?

In this episode of HOT AIR, Joshua Robert explores the history of Pride, the origins of the LGBTQ rights movement, and the ongoing fight for equality, acceptance, and visibility.

From Stonewall and marriage equality to modern debates surrounding LGBTQ rights, anti-LGBTQ legislation, and global discrimination, this episode takes a thoughtful look at why Pride continues to be relevant today.

Topics discussed:
✔ LGBTQ History
✔ Stonewall
✔ Pride Month
✔ LGBTQ Equality
✔ LGBTQ Rights
✔ Marriage Equality
✔ Pride Celebrations
✔ LGBTQ Acceptance
✔ LGBTQ Discrimination
✔ Human Rights
✔ LGBTQ Community
✔ Why Pride Matters

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Visit: HotAirWithJoshuaRobert.com to submit listener stories, topic suggestions and shop merch!

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:00

Welcome back to Hot Air with me, Joshua Robert. And today we're going to get into a question that seems to come up every single June, which is, of course, why do we still need pride? And every year, as rainbow flags start appearing and pride celebrations kick off around the world, the same conversations start popping up online. People ask why there's still a Pride Month, why LGBTQ people still need visibility, whether equality has already been achieved, and why pride continues to exist at all. Some people ask these questions out of curiosity, I'll give them that. Others ask them out of frustration. And some people genuinely believe that because we've made progress, the conversation is over. Donezo. And so today I was like, you know what? Let's unpack it all. Why not unpack it all? So for a little refresher, we're gonna talk about where pride actually came from, why it began as a protest rather than a celebration, the difference between legal equality and true acceptance, the realities LGBTQ people still face, both here in the United States and around the world, and what pride actually means in 2026. And my goal isn't to like shame anyone or tell people what they should or should not think. My goal is to provide context and history, perspective, and hopefully answer the question in a way that helps all of us better understand why this conversation still matters. And if you've ever found yourself wondering why pride exists, or maybe you have someone in your life who asks that question every June, then this is the episode for you. I am making this episode so that it is a resource. And people maybe that have, I don't know, a dad in middle America who every year is like, why do we need pride? Why are we having pride parades? Why do we keep talking about the queers? Like you can send them this episode and hopefully we'll answer some of those questions and broaden some people's horizons. That is my only goal here because I get really worked up when people ask every year why there's pride, right? Because I know why. I feel it, why, I experience it on a daily basis, but that doesn't mean that other people get it. So hopefully this will help them get it. And as always, before we jump in, make sure you're following me on Instagram and TikTok at underscore hot airpod, where we're gonna be posting. We have been posting little behind-the-scenes things, a lot more content lately, some um, you know, heated comment sections, the usual. And visit hotair with joshuarobert.com where you can shop my merch, submit your listener stories and your topic suggestions. I actually haven't received any topic suggestions lately. It's been a hot minute. Like I want to know what you want me to talk about. So maybe I'll also do a poll on the gram. So grab maybe, I don't know, your rainbow flag or your notebook and a pen if you want to jot some things down. Should you be questioning why your why pride exists. Take a walk, maybe get a workout in, enjoy my voice on your commute. And let's talk about pride, visibility, equality, and why this conversation matters now more than ever. So let's hit it.

SPEAKER_01 3:26

H-O-T A I R hot text therapy, no filter. Say what I mean. H-O-T-A-I-R.

SPEAKER_02 3:37

Let's be real. You're listening to hot air.

SPEAKER_00 3:41

Part one. The question behind the question. Let's begin by talking about a question that seems to come up every single June without fail. Why do we still need pride? And like, you know, some people ask it in uh not so nice ways. I don't know what the word is I'm looking for, but if you spent any time online lately, you've probably seen some version of this conversation. Like maybe it's somebody asking why gay people get an entire month. Maybe it's someone asking why there isn't a straight pride. Maybe it's somebody insisting that everyone has equal rights now. So like pride has become unnecessary. This year, we've even seen things like Nuclear Family Month being promoted as an alternative to Pride Month alongside the usual conversations about whether LGBTQ plus visibility has gone too far. And obviously, I think that is all worth talking about. And not because I think every person asking these questions is hateful. Like, in fact, I think that some people genuinely just don't understand it. And that that is okay. Some people have never learned the history. Some people have grown up in a world where gay marriage has always existed and LGBTQ people have always been visible in media. So from their perspective, it might genuinely seem like the fight is over. And then there's the other end of that spectrum where there's people that live very isolated lives, that have never met a queer person or a trans person and just don't understand because it is something that is so out of grasp. To them, it's like equal to literally meeting like an alien from Mars, right? But that's like exactly why this conversation matters. Because when people start asking why pride still exists, what they're really asking is whether the reasons pride was created in the first place still exist. And if we're being honest, the answer is yes, those reasons still exist. And before we get into any of that, right? We will get there. But before we do, I want to say something that might surprise some people. The ultimate goal of pride was never for there to be pride forever. And that rhymed, actually. The goal was never endless parades, endless activism, endless debates, or endless culture wars. The goal was simply equality. The goal was creating a world where being LGBTQ was so ordinary and so accepted and so unremarkable that nobody needed to fight for basic dignity anymore. And I would love to live in that world. And unfortunately, that ain't the world we live in, honey. So I would love to live in a world where nobody worries about coming up, right? A world where parents don't reject their children because of who they love. A world where politicians aren't debating whether certain people deserve equal treatment when they should be debating the cost of housing and groceries and gas and healthcare. A world where holding your partner's hand in public doesn't require you to quickly scan your surroundings first. Like that's scary. Straight people, uh I mean, lucky for you, if you're listening and you're straight, you don't know what it's like to hold your partner's hand and walk down the street and wonder if someone's gonna yell something out their car window or somebody walking by is gonna punch you in the face because that happens all of the time. Whether somebody's going to accost you or assault you because you're just, you know, shown a little PDA. And listen, the world we live in, we're not there yet. And in all of this, I think that sometimes people confuse progress with completion. Those are not the same thing at all. Don't get it confused. Progress is not completion. We've made incredible progress. I like I'm 37 years old now. I know it's hard to believe because my face doesn't move. But within my lifetime, I've watched public opinion shift dramatically. I've watched marriage equality become law. I've watched LGBTQ representation explode across television and movies and sports and politics. I've watched conversations happen that would have been almost unimaginable when I was younger. And I've also watched a lot of that be enrolled back. I read today that support for marriage equality and the LGBTQ community has dropped. It's dropped over 10% in the country, which is significant. So while we've made progress, sometimes you take 10 steps forward and then you take a few steps back, or vice versa, right? Making progress does not mean that the work is finished. Like imagine, how can I put this? Imagine someone renovating a house, okay? An old house, and they've rebuilt the kitchen, they've replaced the roof, they've painted the walls, and the place looks better, dramatically better. Like way better than it did before. Nobody would walk into that house and say, Well, you've already done so much work, like it just don't, don't do any more. So I guess the project is finished, right? You you fixed up 50% of the rooms, we're done. Like if there are still rooms that need repairs, the work is going to continue. And the same thing is true with equality. One of the reasons that I find these conversations extremely frustrating is because they often focus on whether queer people have gained rights while completely ignoring how quickly those rights can be challenged or restricted or reversed. Like history is full of examples of groups making progress only to face backlash later. Rights don't survive simply because they exist. That's just not the way it goes. They survive because people continue defending them. Like if women didn't continue to stand up for themselves, they still would have no credit card and no access to money, no bank account. They wouldn't be able to have a job. Like people often see pride as a celebration and forget that it began as a response to discrimination. And when someone, when someone sees a parade, a pride parade, they see a celebration. They don't necessarily see the decades of history that came before it. They don't see people losing jobs because they were gay. They don't see people being denied housing. They don't see families cutting off their children because they came out of the closet. They don't see the fear, the isolation, the shame, and the secrecy that defined life for many LGBTQ people for generations. What they're seeing is the result of people fighting to change those realities, right? They're seeing the celebration of the progress and the people that fought to change those realities, but that doesn't mean we just stop. Like here, here's the thing that fascinates me. I'm gonna be be bopping and weaving a lot through the conversation. But what fascinates me is nobody asks why we still teach about the civil rights movement, right? Nobody asks why we celebrate women's achievements. Nobody asks why we continue remembering major moments in history that expanded freedom and equality. And I mean, I can't say never. I can't say nobody ever questions that stuff because more so now we, you know, as a whole, as a country, as the right continues to grow. If anybody's left listening, that is Mega and that is Republican. Like, listen, free speech, you're free to you're free to follow who you follow. But let's face it, facts are since Trump has taken office, these conversations have come up. We have been questioning civil rights, we have been questioning equality in all kinds of ways. So I'd say it's not as debated as LGBTQ plus equality and rights. It's, you know, it's kind of getting there. But essentially what I'm trying to say is that we understand that remembering those struggles serves a purpose, right? We understand that history matters. I hope we understand. We understand that rights didn't magically appear one day because everybody collectively decided to be nice, right? They didn't just pop out of thin air. Yet somehow, when it comes to LGBTQ plus people, there is often this expectation that once a certain amount of progress has been made, we should just stop talking about it. And I mean, frankly, that does go for women. That does go for people of color here. It's like, oh, well, you're fine now. Stop talking about it. Like they want us to stop acknowledging it. They want us to stop celebrating it. They want us to, I mean, essentially stop remembering it. And I feel that that is backwards because forgetting history does not preserve progress. It actually threatens it. And the truth is that pride serves multiple purposes. Yes, it is a celebration and it's fun as hell. It should be fun. Every community deserves opportunities to celebrate joy and resilience and connection, but pride is also education. It is visibility, it is remembrance, it's a reminder of where we've been and a conversation about where we are going. And maybe most importantly, it is a reminder that LGBTQ people aren't asking for special treatment. We are simply asking for the same thing that everyone else wants and the same thing that is naturally awarded to straight cisgender people. The freedom to be ourselves without being afraid all the time. That is it. The freedom to love who we love. That is it. The freedom to build families, should we want to, the freedom to just exist openly, to walk down the street holding your partner's hand without wondering if somebody is following you with some bad intentions. The freedom to participate fully in society without being treated as less than. That's not a radical request. I don't think that's radical at all. That's not special privilege. That, plain and simple, is equality. And if the idea of equality still makes some people uncomfortable, then maybe that's the clearest sign that pride still has a purpose. Because if we had truly reached a place where LGBTQ people were treated exactly the same as everyone else, we wouldn't still be having this conversation every June. But we are yet again, here we are. So let's talk about why. Part two. Pride was never created as a party. Now, if we're gonna have an honest conversation about why pride still matters, we need to talk about where pride came from in the first place. And I think this is where a lot of people get very tripped up because what most people know about pride is what they've seen on television. They picture rainbow flags, drag queens, people dancing in the streets, corporate logos suddenly discovering that they love gay people for exactly 30 days every year, and then they disappear and forget about us, and somebody wearing an outfit that appears to have been assembled from glitter and confidence, and maybe like a few little grommets and chains, and absolutely no concern for the weather. That's what people see as pride. And look, all of that exists. It's fun. Pride can be joyful, it can be a lab. Pride can absolutely be a celebration. And it certainly is, and it should be, it should stay that way. But that is not where it started. Pride did not begin as a party. Okay. Pride began as a protest. And if you're listening and you're queer, you probably know this. And if you're listening and you're straight, you probably don't. And that's why we're gonna talk about it. I think that's one of the most important things for people to understand because when you only see the celebration, it is very easy to forget why the celebration exists in the first place. It's kind of like walking into the middle of someone's wedding, right? Like, hello, was I even invited? Am I a wedding crasher? You walk into the reception and you're deciding the entire purpose of marriage is to do the electric slide and eat cake, right? You're seeing the joyful part, but you're missing the story that got everyone there in the first place. And to understand pride, we have to go back to a time that wasn't all that long ago. Let's be real, it wasn't that long ago. Sometimes people talk about LGBTQ history as though we're discussing, I've said this before, ancient civilizations. They'll say things like, well, things used to be different back then. And like you'll imagine we're we're talking about the 1800s or something. The reality is that we're talking about our parents' generation. If you're my age, ah, we're fucking parents, people. In some cases, we're talking about our own lifetimes here. This was not that long ago. There was a time when being openly gay would cost you your job. It could cost you your housing, it could cost you your family relationships, it could get you arrested in many places. Simply existing openly as gay, just being gay, being a gay person was considered unacceptable, immoral, dangerous, or criminal. And again, within our parents' lifetime, imagine growing up knowing that the thing that you were feeling, the thing you could not change, the thing that made you who you are, was something you were expected to hide forever. And imagine hearing politicians or religious leaders or television personalities and teachers and even your own family talk about people like you as though you were broken. Imagine constantly receiving this message that if people found out who you really were, your life could change and would change overnight. That's heavy. That's some heavy shit. And for a lot of LGBTQ people, that was some that was not a hypothetical scenario. That was 100% their reality. And one of the things I think that younger generations sometimes struggle to grasp, and honestly, like I don't even blame them, is just how isolated many queer people were. I mean, even still are. Today, if a teenager starts questioning their sexuality, they can find communities online. It's relatively easy to access that stuff. They can find creators like myself talking about their experiences. They can watch movies and television shows with queer characters, they can see examples of happy, queer adults living relatively normal lives. That visibility matters more than people even can realize. Because for decades, many LGBTQ people genuinely believed that they were 100% alone before the internet, before Netflix, they were alone. Not because they actually were alone, but because everyone else was hiding too. Everyone was hiding. All the gays were hiding. And think about that. Think about how lonely that must have felt. Like imagine growing up, never seeing anyone like yourself, never hearing your experiences reflected back to you, never knowing if there was a future where you could even be happy or accepted or loved or even grasp the concept of who you were. That's a level of isolation that many people today have thankfully never had to experience. Not everyone, but some. Some never have to experience that. And that's the part, that's part of the reason that the community became so important. Queer people began finding one another in spaces where they could finally breathe. They gathered in bars and social clubs, private events and hidden communities because there weren't many other places where they could safely exist as themselves. These spaces weren't just places to like drink and socialize and hook up. They were full on lifelines, right? They were places where people could stop pretending for just a few hours. They could let down their guard and just be themselves. But even those spaces were not safe. Police raids on gay bars were very common. People were harassed, arrested, publicly humiliated, and treated like criminals simply for gathering together. Imagine being told that even the one place where you finally felt accepted could be taken away from you at any moment. And that feels pretty relevant right now, too. That's the environment that eventually led to the events we now associate with the beginning of the modern LGBTQ rights movement. And what's interesting is that nobody involved knew that they were creating history. I love that. That it was just something they felt that they had to do. It wasn't planned. It just happened and it fucking created history. And like history is funny like that, right? We tend to imagine these huge moments happening with dramatic music and like everyone fully aware that they're participating in something that is monumental. But usually history happens because ordinary people like you and me, people reach a breaking point. People get tired, people get frustrated, people get exhausted from being treated as less than human. And eventually they decide that they have had more than enough. And the reason that pride exists today is because generations of queer people refused to stay invisible. Not because they wanted attention. People confuse that. They think we want attention. We just want to celebrate who we are and feel fucking equal. Not because these people wanted special privileges. We want the same privileges awarded automatically to everyone else. They wanted dignity, the people who started Pride, who started that protest. There's a very big difference. They wanted dignity. One of the most frustrating arguments that I hear today is when people say, why can't gay people just keep it private? Why can't they just keep it to themselves? And every time I hear that, A, I want to smack a bitch, but I also think about how often society asks queer people to accept conditions that straight people would never accept themselves. If I can't kiss in public, honey, you can't kiss in public. Like people will be like, oh my God, they're rubbing their homosexuality in their face just for holding hands or kissing. It's like straight people do that all the time. And we don't say you're rubbing it in our face. We just accept it because that is the world that we live in. Like imagine somebody saying you can marry your spouse and don't ever mention them again. Like that's what it is. Imagine somebody saying you can have a family, but don't talk about them publicly. Imagine somebody saying you can exist, but we we would prefer not to like see evidence of it. Most people would recognize how ridiculous that sounds because visibility isn't a privilege. Visibility is part of being human. Like straight people talk about their relationships all the time. They post wedding photos, they celebrate anniversaries, they introduce their spouses, they put family pictures on their desks, they tell stories about their kids. Nobody accuses them of shoving their lifestyle down anyone's throat. And it's not a lifestyle because you choose a lifestyle. But historically, LGBTQ people were expected to remain invisible. We can't put a photo on a desk, some of us. We can't celebrate our spouse because there's people around us that hate that we exist. And that's what pride challenged, right? Pride challenged the idea that queer people should only exist quietly and secretly and out of sight. It challenged the idea that queer people should be grateful for whatever scraps of acceptance society decided to throw to them. It challenged the idea that shame should be the default. And that is what makes pride so powerful even today. Because at its core, pride is not about parades. Okay. It's not about glitter. It's not about dancing in the street. It's about refusing to apologize for existing. Okay. And that's why we go over the top. That's why we dress wild. That's why we have a good time. It is about rejecting the belief that some people deserve visibility while others should remain hidden. And it's about understanding that dignity isn't something that should have to be earned. It's something that every single solitary human being deserves, regardless. So when people look at pride and only see rainbow flags, they're missing the deeper story, okay? They're seeing the result without understanding the cause. They're seeing the generations of struggle condensed into a single colorful month or colorful celebration, a single night, maybe, and assuming that that is the whole entire picture. The reality is that pride exists because people, queer people, spent decades fighting for the ability to live openly. People that lost their jobs and lost their families and lost their relationships, some, a lot of them, lost their lives. Many never got to experience the freedoms that younger generations like myself sometimes take for granted today. And that is why remembering this history matters. It's not because we want to live in the past. And it's not because we want people to feel guilty that we were not awarded the same equalities, but it's because understanding where we've been helps us understand why pride continues to exist. Again, queer people, LGBTQ people, do not want to be treated differently. We want to be treated as equals. Pride was created because queer people were being treated differently. That is the distinction that changes everything. And if you want to know more about the first pride, well, the first pride, the Stonewall riots that resulted in the first pride, I did an episode last year about it. So you can keep on scrolling or just search hot air Stonewall Riots. And I do a whole, a whole history episode about the Stonewall Inn in New York City that I got to visit uh not that long ago. That was like very, very cool. I've actually gone a few times since I've been back and forth to New York. But if you want to learn more about the actual events that led up to the first pride, you know where to find it. Part three equality is not the same as acceptance. So now that we talked about where pride came from, I want to talk about something that I think sits at the heart of this entire conversation. It is an idea that sounds very, very simple on the surface, but I think that it is where a lot of people get stuck and when they ask why pride still matters, right? Equality is not the same thing as acceptance. A lot of people use those words interchangeably when they really should not. When someone says, Well, gay people can get married now, so what's what are you still fighting for? Again, I want to smack a hoe. But what they're really doing is looking at one piece of equality and assuming that the entire picture is complete. And life is rarely, if not ever, that simple. Let's say tomorrow, every law in every country suddenly treated LGBTQ people exactly the same as everybody else. Every legal protection existed, every discriminatory law disappeared, every right was guaranteed. Obviously, that would be incredible. But would that automatically mean that every family suddenly became accepting? Would every employer suddenly become supportive? Would every school become a safe school? Would every church become affirming? Would every person stop carrying years of shame and fear or trauma? Of course not. No to all of that. That's not the way the world works. Like laws can literally change overnight. Culture, on the other hand, takes a hell of a lot longer. And of course, legal equality matters like tremendously, okay? Acceptance is something different altogether. I think one of the biggest privileges that people often don't recognize is the privilege of never having to think about whether who you are will be accepted by the people that are around you. Most straight people don't ever have to do that. They don't have to come out as straight. They are just automatically inducted into the fucking society hall of fame. They never sit at the edge of their bed rehearsing a conversation with their parents. They never wonder if a relationship announcement is going to create tension at Thanksgiving dinner. They never have to test the waters before mentioning who they are dating. Like, imagine how strange that would be if straight people had to do all those things. Imagine if every time you entered a new workplace, you had to quietly figure out whether it was safe to mention your straight spouse. I'm a man, a straight man, and I'm married to a woman. Shocking. Like imagine meeting new friends and wondering whether they would still look at you the same way if they knew that you were straight. And on the other end of it, as a queer person, imagine sitting through family gatherings, listening to jokes or comments or assumptions about people like you while trying to decide whether speaking up would make things worse or better. I've had some experiences like that where family members have used certain gay slurs, and I was like, no, honey, that's not gonna work for me. But most people or a lot of people don't speak up. I can't bite my tongue to save my life. And for many queer people, like that, that's not a hypothetical situation, okay? That happens almost on the daily. Those are completely normal experiences for us. And before somebody listening even says, like, well, everybody faces judgment, like, because yeah, you're right. We all do, okay? We all face some sort of judgment. Everybody. But not everybody faces judgment for the exact same things. That's the difference here. The issue isn't that queer people are the only people who experience challenges. That's not the issue. The issue is that some of those challenges are directly connected to their identity. One of the easiest ways, okay, to explain this is through something that many queer people do automatically without even realizing it. We scan. Okay, scan. We do it all the time. When I travel somewhere new, there are things that I think about that many straight people never have to consider. Is this destination LGBTQ friendly? Is it safe to be visibly queer here? If I were traveling with a boyfriend, would holding hands attract attention? What are the local attitudes? What are the laws? I have to Google restaurants and hotels and venues that are open and welcome to the queer community. Those calculations happen constantly, not just on vacation. That's an example. They happen all the time. And the interesting thing is that many queer people have become so accustomed to doing that that we don't even notice it anymore. It's just part of it. It becomes our second nature. You walk into a room, you instantly assess the environment. I do it all the time at work. You hear someone make a joke and you take mental notes, wondering if they are talking about you or not. You see a political sign in someone's yard and wonder what that means. I had a coworker when Charlie Kirk got shot that said, Oh, I really liked him in his conversations. Ever since then, I've wondered if she hates who I am. I wondered if she's racist or homophobic or all the terrible things that I personally feel like he stood for at times. I will continue to say that some of his things are taken out of context, but we're not going to go there today. But we're used to scanning, right? It's fucking exhausting. Not because every situation turns out badly, but because the uncertainty itself that just requires energy. I remember growing up and hearing people say things like, I don't care if someone's gay. I just don't want them making it their entire personality. I have a sister who has said something along the lines of like, you're not just gay. That's not all of who you are. And like at first glance, that sounds reasonable enough. Like most people don't want anybody making one thing, their entire personality. But here is what I eventually realized, okay? People say that a lot about the LGBTQ community, while completely ignoring how much heterosexuality is woven into everyday life. Turn on a movie and there's a love story, okay? Straight love story. Watch a football game and you'll see a player kissing his wife after the fucking end of the game. Scroll through social media and you'll see engagement announcements, wedding photos, pregnancy reveals, anniversary tributes, and family vacations. Straight, straight, straight, straight, straight. Nobody calls that making sexuality your personality. We just consider that normal. Anything a straight couple does is considered normal. We don't go, oh my God, you're making straight your entire identity. But when the queer community, when queer people participate in those same experiences publicly, suddenly people become aware of it. Suddenly it's noticeable, suddenly it's political when it certainly is not, suddenly it is controversial. And that tells us something very, very important. It tells us that for many people, equality still comes with conditions. You are equal as long as you are quiet. You are equal as long as you are invisible. You're equal as long as nobody has to think about it. But that is clearly not equality. That's like almost tolerance, maybe, and I'm being I'm being nice there. And tolerance is not the same thing as acceptance. I don't want to merely tolerate my friends, right? I don't want to tolerate my family. I don't want to tolerate the people that I love. I I want to celebrate them. I personally want to make room for the people that I love, regardless of their sexuality. Like that is acceptance. And don't worry, there's more that often gets overlooked. It's the mental and emotional impact of growing up in environments where acceptance is not guaranteed at all. Like in even today, there are countless LGBTQ kids that are sitting in bedrooms wondering if their parents are still gonna love them if they ever come out. Like, pause for a hot sec. Think about that. Think about how many kids, hundreds of thousands, are sitting there right now. Like this is before they've had their first serious relationship, before they figured out who they are, before they've had a chance to become adults. They're already carrying fears about rejection. Like that is such a heavy burden for anyone, let alone a child. And unfortunately, those fears aren't always irrational. I wish they were irrational, but they're pretty grounded. Like every year there are young people that are kicked out of their homes. Every year there are people who lose relationships with family members. Every year there are people who hear that who they are is incompatible with someone's religion or values or vision of the world. And like, what a small vision of the world. And let's be clear not every LGBTQ person has this experience. I did not. Many people have very supportive families, okay? There's a wide spectrum of support. Not everybody's perfect, but not everybody gets kicked out. Many people are embraced from the very beginning, okay? And that's wonderful. Like so happy for you, so happy for me. That right there is progress. Just the fact that acceptance is growing. But the existence of progress does not erase the existence of that struggle. It doesn't automatically make this kid's worries go away. Both can be very true at the same time. That is one of the most important things that people need to understand when we discuss pride, that pride is not just a celebration for people who are already accepted. This is also a signal to people who are not, the people who have not come out. It is a reminder that they are not alone, that we are here, that we are waiting for them. And every pride flag that is hanging outside of business, every pride event, every supportive parent wearing a rainbow shirt, every ally that's showing up, every public display of acceptance sends a message to someone who might desperately need to hear it. I'm not wearing it right now, but I have that rainbow watch bracelet that everybody knows about. If you've been listening, I wear it as a signal. It's a signal that you belong here, that you do not need to hide, that you don't need to be ashamed, that there are people who will accept you exactly as you are. And Josh is getting emotional again. That message might seem small to someone who has never needed it. The people that don't need that message that they belong seems like a little itty bitty thing. But for someone sitting alone who's scared, it can be life-changing. And that is why acceptance matters. Acceptance isn't just about making people feel good. Acceptance creates safety. Acceptance creates belonging. And acceptance creates the conditions that allow people to thrive rather than just like survive in this world, right? We want to thrive and feel fucking good. Surviving is like grasping at straws. So when someone asks, why do we still need pride if LGBTQ people already have the rights? I think they're asking the wrong question. The better question, let me tell you the better question, because I know everything. The better question is this. Can people live openly, honestly, safely, and authentically without fear of rejection, discrimination, isolation, or harm simply because of who they are? That's a long question, isn't it? And if the answer is still not always, then the conversation ain't over. Because equality on paper and equality in practice are two very different things. And until people no longer have to choose between being authentic and accepting, pride still has an important role to play. Part four. Now, as important as everything we've talked about so far is, I do think this next part might be the most eye-opening, especially for people who genuinely believe that pride has outlived its purpose. Because one of the biggest mistakes that we can make is assuming that our personal experience represents everyone else's reality. It's easy to think that pride is not necessary when you're sitting in a relatively accepting city like I am. It's easy to think that the fight is over when you have LGBTQ friends, coworkers, family members, and neighbors who are living openly. It's easy to assume equality has been achieved when the world immediately around you feels safe and inclusive. And we all forget that sometimes. But the truth is, most of us live in a bubble. And it's not intentional. I think that's human nature. It's just the way it is. We experience the world through our own lens, through our own lives, our own communities, our own social circles, and our own news feeds. Okay. And when something isn't happening directly in front of us, it's very easy to assume it isn't happening at all. And that, I think about that all the time. Whenever someone says, nobody cares if you're gay anymore, or something along those lines, right? Every time I hear it, I think, where? Where does nobody care if I'm gay anymore? Where exactly is this magical place where nobody cares anymore? Because it's it's not on this globe. It's not on this big ass round rock that's floating through space. Let me tell you that. Because while acceptance has absolutely grown in many parts of the world, there are still millions of LGBTQ people living under conditions that most Americans and Canadians and Australians and Western Europeans would find fucking shocking. Right now, okay, right this second, as you're listening to this, whenever you're listening to this episode, there are countries where same-sex relationships remain criminalized. There are places where people can be arrested simply because of who they love. There are places where queer people face imprisonment, public persecution, violence, and in some cases, even the possibility of the death penalty. Think about that for a second. Not a hundred years ago, not 50 years ago, not 10 years ago, not five years ago, not one year ago, today, right the fuck now. As you are driving to work, as you're folding your laundry, walking your dog, or pretending to exercise while mostly scrolling through Instagram between your sets, there are people around the world who cannot safely be themselves. And not just the queers, but we're talking about that today. And before someone says, well, that's another country, what does that have to do with all of us? Like that's exactly the point. Pride was never just about one city, honey. It wasn't about one state or one country. The queer community has always been global. We do exist everywhere, okay? The fear of rejection isn't limited by borders. The fight for equality isn't limited by borders. And the victories that we celebrate aren't limited by borders either. One of the things that I do love about Pride is that it reminds us that we're connected to something much larger than ourselves. It reminds us that while some of us may enjoy freedoms that previous generations could only dream about, there are still people waiting for those same freedoms elsewhere. I sometimes think about what it would be like to grow up in a place where being gay wasn't just socially frowned upon, but was actually illegal. Can I wrap my head around it? No, I can't because that is such a wild foreign concept to me. But imagine discovering who you are while knowing that your government considers your existence a crime. Imagine never being able to talk openly about your relationships. Imagine constantly worrying that a text message, a social media post, a conversation could put you in danger. You could be arrested or killed for it. Imagine never knowing if the people closest to you would turn against you if they found out the truth. That reality exists for millions of people and also in America to certain degrees, but like suddenly the idea that pride is unnecessary starts to. Feel a little disconnected from reality. Even beyond the countries with harsh laws, there are countless places where queer people face overwhelming social pressure. There are communities where being openly queer can mean that you lose your family or your support system, your housing, as I've said before, your career opportunities or your place within your culture. There are people who enter marriages they don't want to be in because they feel that they no longer have an option. There are people living double lives because authenticity feels too dangerous. And when we zoom out and look at the entire world, it's actually quite remarkable how uneven progress has been. Some countries have legalized same-sex marriage and implemented very broad protections. Others are actively moving in the opposite direction. Some communities celebrate pride openly in the streets, others force people into secrecy. It was a state in Africa that recently declared that um being gay was punishable by death. Like, hell what? That's crazy. And that's why I think it's dangerous when people assume the fight is over simply because things have improved where they live immediately, right? Progress is not universal, acceptance is not universal, safety is not universal, freedom is not universal. And sometimes I hear people say, like, why do the LGBTQ people always focus on the negative? Why can't we just celebrate how far we've come? And honestly, I think we should celebrate how far we've come always. We should celebrate every single victory. I mean, I do that in life anyway. Any little milestone, let's celebrate it. We should celebrate every family that chooses love over fear. We should celebrate every young person who grows up feeling accepted. We should celebrate every law that expands equality. And we should celebrate every parent who creates a safe home for their child. Celebrate the fuck out of it. But there's always a but celebrating progress and acknowledging reality are not mutually exclusive. In fact, I would argue that pride has always done both. Pride celebrates what has been achieved while reminding us of what remains unfinished, for lack of a better word. That's why you'll often hear people say that pride is both a party and a protest. I mean, and that's that's pretty on the nose because it is. It's joy and resistance that exist side by side. Again, two things can be true at once. It's dancing in the streets while remembering the people who made that dancing possible. It's celebrating freedom while recognizing that not everyone else has access to it yet. Now, one of the most powerful questions that I've ever asked myself is this if I had been born somewhere else, would I be able to live the life that I am living today? And not everyone can answer yes. What if you had been born in a country where homosexuality was criminalized? What if you had been born into a family that would never accept you? What if you had been born in a community where coming out meant losing everything? Would your life look the same? Would your opportunities be the same? Would your safety be the same? Would your future be the same? And the answer is probably not if you're queer. But the answer is probably if you're straight. And I think reflecting on that reality creates something that is incredibly important. Perspective. Okay. Perspective reminds us that rights are not guaranteed unless you're straight. Perspective reminds us that progress can never be taken for granted unless you're straight. Perspective reminds us that our personal experience is not the only experience for the most part, unless you're straight. At the end of the day, pride isn't just for the people that are marching in those parades. Again, I've said it, but I'm going to say it again, okay? It's for the teenager that's sitting alone at home wondering if they're ever going to feel comfortable in their skin, if they're ever going to feel accepted, if they're ever going to find that confidence to be who they know that they are. It's for the person that's living in a country where they can't safely come out because you can be fucking killed for it. It's for the adult who spent decades hiding and is finally learning how to live authentically. It's for the people who came before us and never got to experience the freedoms that many of us enjoy today. And it's for the people who are still waiting. The truth is, when people ask why pride matters, they're often looking at the world through a very narrow lens. And that again, that that's okay. Your lens is your lens, honey. They're looking at one city, one country, one moment in time, and assuming that story applies everywhere. That is what, frankly, is wrong with this country. But when you step back and look at the bigger picture, the answer becomes much clearer. Pride still exists because equality isn't evenly distributed. Pride still exists because safety is not guaranteed. Pride still exists because visibility can still change lives. And pride still exists because millions of people around the world are fighting battles that many of us no longer have to fight ourselves. And that is not a reason to abandon pride. If anything, it's one of the strongest reasons to keep showing up. And I want to ground this conversation a little bit here. Uh what I'm trying to get at is that we again see the world through our lens, right? We think that how it is in our town, in our community, in our circle of friends is how it is everywhere, right? And until an issue starts affecting us directly, generally society doesn't react to it. They don't care. An example I've used before is that one of my friends, well, she's not my friend anymore because of this, but a friend that I had stated that she was gonna vote for Donald Trump knowing that women's rights to abortions were going to be removed or changed. And she told me that she didn't care because she never wanted to have a kid anyway, and was just gonna vote that way because she wanted to pay less taxes. That was almost word for word what she said, right? That issue doesn't affect her because she does not want children. Had she been a woman who wanted children and was maybe struggling with fertility, or maybe she was someone who was, I don't know, raped and got pregnant and needed to have an abortion, or just cared about women having autonomy, I believe that's the right word, over their bodies. She may have voted differently and had a different perspective. But because that specific issue, she doesn't give a shit about her womb, apparently. She didn't care, right? So people like myself, I am gay and I know what those struggles are like, what it's like coming out, what it's like wondering if you're gonna ever love yourself, whether people are gonna jump you in the street or not. I care about that around the world. I don't just care about it right here in my community. So because that struggle directly affects me, I'm gonna care about people that are in other countries that are queer, that don't have equal rights, that are not awarded the same equality or semblance of equality or something near equality, or don't have a supportive family, or don't have supportive friends, or can't come out of the closet. I'm going to worry about those people. I'm going to care about those people. But your straight counterparts, your straight family members, your straight friends, the ones that maybe do accept you, that are saying, why are we doing pride anymore? Like they don't get it because they don't know what it's like to maybe be a family member who thinks you should be killed for being gay, who thinks that you are a sin and an abomination. So issues and concerns and feelings and experiences that don't directly affect us, we tend to turn a blind eye to and we tend to ignore them. And we forget that there is a whole other world out here. We are just one country. We're just a little a continent over here, okay? Hanging out. There's so much else going on out there, and people need to start broadening their horizons. The fight for pride and equality is not over. Even if everyone in the United States was like, you know what, we we've all changed our tune. We woke up tomorrow and like, I don't know, Jesus came down and was like, yo, accept the queers, okay? Accept the homosexuals, and everybody did, and we all got along and everything was great just here in this country. That doesn't mean everything is gonna be great elsewhere. That doesn't fix the issue globally. That doesn't fix the problem of equality. I could keep going on, but we're gonna move on, okay? To part five, what pride actually means today. As we start kind of wrapping up today's conversation, I'm gonna come back to the question. I'm that started this entire episode, why do we still need pride? I feel like we answered it, but like let's revisit it. Like after everything we talked about, the history of pride, the discrimination that led to its creation, the difference between equality and acceptance, and the reality that millions of LGBTQ people around the world still don't have freedoms that many of us take for granted. I think the answer is actually much simpler than people make it out to be. The reason we still need pride is because pride isn't really about getting special treatment. It's not about elevating one group above another. It's not about asking for extra rights, extra attention, or extra privileges. At its core, pride is about visibility and community and dignity. It's about creating a world where queer people can participate in society the same way everyone else does, without having to hide or apologize or constantly defend their existence. One of the biggest misunderstandings surrounding pride is that people often confuse the celebration with the purpose. They see a parade and assume that that is the entire movement. That's it. They see a rainbow flag or concerts or parties or drag performances and people dancing in the streets, and they conclude that pride is simply a month-long celebration. But that's like a little like walking into the middle of a wedding reception, right? And assuming the marriage is only about the cake and the dancing. You're seeing the celebration without understanding the journey that made the celebration possible. The reason pride feels joyful is because for so many people, simply existing openly was at one point in time impossible. The reason people celebrate is because previous generations spent decades fighting for the rights that many of us now view as normal. The celebration did not come first and start that way. The struggle came first. The celebration is what happens when people finally experience freedoms that were denied to them for generations. And when you strip away all the politics, all the headlines, all the arguments on social media, most LGBTQ people are asking for things that are remarkably ordinary. They want to fall in love, they want to build relationships, they want to create families. Some of them, not I, no, thank you. They want to pursue careers, buy homes and travel and make friends and attend holiday dinners and complain about the rising cost of groceries and gas. Like just like everybody else. They want the freedom to move through the world without constantly wondering whether their identity is going to become a problem. I think that's something a lot of people miss. There is a narrative that queer people are asking for something that is different. But when you actually listen to what most people want, it sounds very familiar. They just want the safety, the acceptance, the equal opportunity, and to know that they're not going to lose their relationships or their jobs or their housing or those opportunities because of who they are. That is not special treatment. Those are not special requests. Those are things that most people already get automatically. Pride continues to matter because there are still countless people who do not feel like they have those things. There are young people who are terrified to tell their parents who they are. There are adults who still hide important parts of themselves at work. I mean, I sometimes at work wonder, you know, like my HR person or my boss, they could hate me because I'm gay. They might be very religious. They might not approve of my quote unquote lifestyle. And they can fire me at any point in the state and not tell me why. And that could be the reason. That's not okay. I'll sue the shit out of them and I'll make them pay, but like it's still not okay. There are people that grew up hearing that they were broken and sinful and confused or wrong, or I already said broken, I was gonna say it again. And they spend years trying to like undo that damage that was caused by those messages. There are people living in communities where being open about their identity still carries very real risks. And for those people, pride isn't the celebration, right? It is a signal. It's a signal, again, that they're not alone. It's a signal that says that there are other people who understand what you're going through. That the dance party, the dancing in the streets, the parades, the rainbow flag, those are signals to these people. It's a signal that says that there is a future beyond the fear that you are feeling right now. And people be underestimating how powerful that can be. And listen, when I was younger, I didn't grow up surrounded by openly gay adults. We did have two lesbian neighbors, Donna and Sandy. I think I've talked about them before. That was like a very brief time, though. I didn't have endless examples of queer relationships or queer families or queer success stories. Like many people, I spent years trying to figure out where I fit in and what my future might look like. Like that's one of the reasons that visibility matters so much. That's one of the reasons I'm doing this podcast. That's why I started it. When people can see examples of others living openly and authentically, it expands their understanding of what is possible for themselves. And honey, that is not indoctrination. That is representation, and there is a difference. Nobody becomes gay, okay, because they saw a pride parade. That's fucking nuts. Nobody suddenly changes their identity and decides I'm going to transition from male to female or female to male, like because they saw someone with a rainbow flag hanging outside of a business. Like what visibility does is allow people who already exist to recognize that they are not alone. And it gives people the language for experiences that they've been struggling to understand. It helps people realize there are others like them living full, happy, meaningful lives. And that is something that we should want for everyone. Sounded like I was going to stop there, but I'm not. Like another reason that pride remains important is because history has a way of fading surprisingly fast. Okay. Once progress becomes normalized, people often forget how difficult it was to achieve that in the first place. Rights that once seemed impossible suddenly feel inevitable. People begin assuming things have always been that way, or progress is always happening, and like, or that progress would have happened naturally without any effort. Like history tells a different story, though, okay? Every right that exists today exists because somebody fought for it. Somebody spoke up when it wasn't popular. Somebody risked their reputation, sometimes their lives. Somebody challenged the status quo. Somebody endured criticism, rejection, or worse, because they believe future generations deserved something better. And pride keeps stories like that alive. And it reminds us that progress is not automatic. It reminds us that equality is not something that simply appears one day and remains untouched forever. Like any meaningful social progress, it requires participation and attention and a willingness to keep showing up. And listen, we ain't going anywhere, nor is pride. Every year it is a reminder that our community is here, that we're your neighbors, your coworkers, your family members, your teachers, your healthcare workers, business owners, artists, athletes, parents, and friends. We aren't some separate group that's like living outside of society. We are society. And that's why the conversation around pride isn't just a queer conversation. It is a conversation about what kind of communities we want to create and what values we want to uphold. Do we want communities where people feel safe being themselves? Maybe, probably. Do we want communities where differences are respected rather than feared? Do we want communities where young people grow up knowing that they are worthy of love and belonging? Most people would answer yes to that. Pride is one of the ways we continue working toward those goals. Now, does pride look like it did 50 years ago? Of course not. No. Movements evolve, communities evolve, the world changes. There will always be conversations about what pride should be, how it should be celebrated, and where its focus should be. Like those conversations, they're healthy, they're always going to be there, but the existence of those debates does not erase the underlying purpose. At its heart, pride is still about affirming a simple truth. No one should have to apologize for who they are. No one should have to earn the right to be treated with dignity. No one should have to hide in order to be accepted. No one should have to choose between authenticity and belonging. And while we've made incredible progress toward those goals, we're certainly not fully there yet. And that is why pride matters. And truthfully, I would love a world where LGBTQ people can stand alongside everyone else without fear. In a world where being yourself is not an act of courage, a world where coming out isn't necessary because acceptance is already assumed. In a world where nobody has to question whether they belong anywhere. Like we're closer to that world, I think, than we've ever been before. And that is worth celebrating. But until that world exists for everyone, everywhere on the planet, pride still has work to do. And on that note, I think that's where we're gonna end our show, our episode for today. We talked about a lot. I feel like I started getting heated there at the end. But whether you are an LGBTQ person, an ally, or someone who came to this episode with questions, or someone who plans to send this episode to a friend or family member or coworker, or that one guy who says every June, like why there isn't a straight pride. Like, I hope the conversation that I had with myself gave you something to think about. And if you enjoyed today's episode, please take a moment to like it, subscribe, rate it, comment, all the things wherever you're listening. They're all different, but you you know the drill. It helps a lot more than people understand. It helps the podcast be discovered. Just leaving that five-star review on Apple Podcasts skyrockets this episode right to the top of people's search engine. Search engine, what am I, 80,000 years old? You can also follow me on Instagram and TikTok at underscore hot airpod. Visit my website, hotair with joshuarobert.com, where you can shop my merch, submit your listener stories, and your topic suggestions for future episodes. I've got plenty more episodes coming this Pride Month with some special guests. So stay tuned and thank you for spending part of your day with me, a little bit. Happy Pride Month to everyone that is celebrating. And just remember that visibility matters, community matters, and every single person deserves the opportunity to live authentically and be treated with dignity. And listen, if you if you're a young person listening, if you're someone that is maybe not even a young person, maybe if you're somebody listening that's struggling with their identity, with their sexuality, with who they are, just remember that you are not alone, that pride exists as a signal to you, that you are loved, that maybe if you don't have friends and family that support you, you will find that chosen family one day. I promise you will. So you just stay strong. Do you boo? Believe in yourself. Know that the world is so much bigger than where you are right now. And with that, I will see you next Tuesday.

SPEAKER_01 1:05:31

H O T A I R hot takes therapy, no filter. Say what I mean. H O T A I R A. Let's be real, deliver hot air.