Proof We Still Need Pride: The San Francisco Giants Controversy, JD Vance & The Growing Backlash Against LGBTQ Equality

🌈 Is Pride still necessary in 2026?

The headlines this month tell an interesting story.

⚾ The San Francisco Giants Pride Night controversy.

🏛️ JD Vance saying "We don't need to do this anymore. Trump won."

🏳️‍🌈 States creating "Traditional Family Month" during Pride Month.

🚫 Companies quietly pulling back LGBTQ support.

⚠️ Neo-Nazis showing up at Pride events.

In this HOT AIR episode, Joshua Robert connects these stories to explain why Pride Month still exists and why visibility, allyship, and equality remain important today.

Topics Covered:

• San Francisco Giants Pride controversy explained
• Bible verses on Pride Night jerseys
• JD Vance Pride comments
• Pride backlash in 2026
• Corporate Pride rollbacks
• LGBTQ equality
• Why Pride Month still matters

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Transcript

SPEAKER_01 0:00

Welcome back to Hot Air with me, Joshua Robert. And today, again, we're getting into a question that comes up every single June. I already talked about this. Why do we still need pride? But listen, I'm coming at this from a different point of view. As we know, every year someone asks whether pride has outlived its purpose. They'll point to marriage equality, representation in the media, openly gay figures, and then they're gonna ask whether we've reached a point where pride is no longer necessary. But the episode I did about this was based on the inequalities and just about, I mean, I don't even know how else to explain it. The inequalities. We want equality. It was more historical and a big, overreaching concept of why we need pride. But this one, I'm coming at you with facts and things that have happened just in Pride Month alone, the month of June 2026, that show you exactly why we fucking need Pride Month. Because it's one thing for me to be like, we still need pride because we're not created or treated. We're not created equally. We are created equally. It's one thing for me to be like, we need pride because we don't have equal rights. And it's another thing for me to come at you with the receipts, honey. And that's what I'm doing today. The rise of alternative family values observances being promoted during Pride Month, the disturbing appearance of neo-Nazis at a pride event in Georgia, and the growing number of brands and organizations that are quietly rolling back their pride support. So this bitch is exactly why we need pride. This is, I mean, I was gonna say this is not going to be an episode about outrage, but it certainly is. It's not gonna be an episode about demonizing people who disagree with us, although some of them are cunts. It's going to be a fact-based conversation about visibility, inclusion, equality, and what these stories reveal about where we actually are as a community in 2026. Because if pride truly isn't necessary anymore, then these stories shouldn't exist at all. But here the fuck we are. And guess what, boys and squirrels and girls? I'm heated today. Before we jump in, though, follow me on Instagram and TikTok at underscore hotairpod, where you're gonna find episode clips, behind-the-scenes content, polls, discussions, and all the chaos that doesn't make it into a full episode, because like you can't include everything, okay? You can also visit my website, hotair with joshuarobert.com, to submit your listener stories, topic suggestions, and shop my merch. So grab a coffee. Perhaps wash a Xanax down with that coffee or with something a little bit harder. Take a walk, avoid talking and arguing with people in the comment section for the next hour, okay? Let's hit it.

SPEAKER_00 2:46

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

SPEAKER_01 3:01

Now, I know I've already talked about this this month, but apparently we need to have the conversation again. And I actually kind of love when things like this happen in real time because it's like, here you go. This is like so in your face it couldn't be more in your face. Every June, without fail, we have those people that ask why we need pride, right? They ask why companies put rainbow stuff on their things, why baseball teams have pride nights, why the queer community gets an entire month. And every year I think, you know what? Maybe we finally reached the point where I don't have to answer that anymore because it's so in your face why we need it. But it's never enough. The receipts are never enough, right? Then June starts, Pride Month comes around, and within the first two weeks, aka the first two days, somebody inevitably hands me a brand new example of exactly why Pride Month still matters. And this year, one of those examples came from Major League Baseball during the San Francisco Giants Pride Night. Several players made national headlines after wearing a Bible verse on their Pride-themed baseball caps. The verse was Genesis 9, 12, 16, whatever the fuck that means, which says, I have set my rainbow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth. Whenever I bring clouds over the earth and the rainbow appears in the clouds, I will remember my covenant between me and you and all living creatures of every kind. Okay, not mad at it. The players explained that they wanted to highlight the biblical meaning of the rainbow. They said the rainbow was God's symbol before it became associated with the queer community. MLB eventually issued warnings because players aren't supposed to modify their uniforms, but the story exploded far beyond baseball. Okay. Suddenly everyone was debating religion and pride and freedom of expression, Christianity, and whether this was an act of support or an act of protest. Now, before I say anything else, I want to acknowledge that there are two very different ways something can be interpreted. Okay. The first interpretation is the generous one. Okay. Maybe these players were genuinely trying to say that they are religious people who also support the queer community. And maybe they were not rejecting pride at all. Maybe they were simply wanting to acknowledge their faith while participating in the event. And if that's the case, like, I'll, okay, sure. I have no issue with that. Contrary to what some people seem to think, being Christian and supporting queer people are not mutually exclusive concepts. I know pastors who perform same-sex weddings, I know churches that march in pride parades. I know Christians who have spent years fighting for queer equality. The existence of faith itself is not the problem. But here's where I think a lot of LGBTQ people had a very different reaction. The context, which matters. Because if someone walks into your birthday party and starts talking about how birthdays are overrated, you don't assume that they're sharing random thoughts. You assume they're making a statement about the birthday. If someone shows up to your wedding and starts talking about divorce statistics, you're probably gonna think that they're trying to make a point at your wedding. Timing changes the meaning of a message. And that's what makes this situation very complicated. The Bible verse wasn't written on a random hat in the middle of August, right? It wasn't posted during spring training. It wasn't shared during a regular Tuesday night game. It was written on a Pride night cap during a pride celebration. Whether that was the intention or not, a lot of queer people looked at that and felt like the message was less about faith and more about reclaiming the rainbow from the queer community. Now, maybe that's unfair. Maybe that wasn't what these players meant at all. But if we're being honest, the reason people immediately jump to that conclusion has everything to do with history. The queer community doesn't have a complicated relationship with religion because we're all anti-religious. That's not why. We have a complicated relationship with religion because religion has often had a complicated relationship with us. It does not go both ways. Church hates gay, gay hates church. For decades, many churches taught that being gay was sinful. They still do. Many fought against marriage equality, many fought against anti-discrimination protections. Religious leaders helped fuel the AIDS stigma during the 80s and 90s, which I talked about on the last episode. Conversion therapy programs were overwhelmingly rooted in religious beliefs. Queer kids were told that they were broken. Families were encouraged to reject their children. Entire denominations spent millions of dollars fighting against LGBTQ rights. And before someone sends me a motherfucking angry email saying, not all churches, honey, I know, okay? I get it. I know not all churches. And if you want the proof, you can go back and listen to my episode in December with one of the pastors here in San Diego. That's why I keep saying many churches, okay? Because there are also incredible faith communities doing amazing work for LGBTQ people. There are churches providing shelter for homeless queer youth. There are pastors helping families keep relationships intact after a child comes out. There are religious leaders who have spent decades standing shoulder to shoulder with the queer community. Inhale, exhale. The problem is that when many queer people hear Bible verses being quoted in public conversations about LGBTQ issues, their first memory isn't acceptance. Their first memory is rejection. It's very easy. I don't understand why people don't get it. Their first memory is being told they were going to hell. Like, come the fuck on. Their first memory is hearing that God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve. Well, I like Steve, so fuck off, Eve. Their first memory is being told that they were an abomination, a sinner, broken, confused, selfish, immoral, or somehow responsible for society's decline. I get really cunty and sarcastic when I talk about religion stuff because it's just like, come the fuck on. So when Bible verses appear during pride celebrations, many LGBTQ people don't hear a message of inclusion. And that's what that night is supposed to be about. Inclusion. They hear echoes of every sermon and lecture and political campaign and family argument that was used to justify treating them as less than. And that right there is exactly why pride still matters. Because pride was never created because LGBTQ people wanted a month dedicated to rainbow merchandise and themed cocktails. Pride exists because there was a time when openly existing, as a gay person, could get you killed. Need I say more? Yes, because I will. This is gonna be about an hour long. I've got a lot more to say. What fascinates me is that every year people ask why pride is still necessary. And then every year, pride becomes one of the only times where queer people are expected to defend their existence in public all over again. It's like, why does it need to exist? That's when you all pipe up. Pipe up about it all year long, honey. Seriously, think about it for a second. We don't see this level of cultural debate during Italian heritage night at a baseball game. Like nobody spends weeks arguing about whether celebrating Irish heritage is being shoved down their throat when it's St. Fucking Patrick's Day. Nobody creates national headlines because a team hosted like a Polish Heritage Month. It's about culture. It's about whether LGBTQ people can simply exist without becoming a debate. It's about whether a kid growing up today can discover who they are without being told that they're broken and gonna burn in the fiery pits of hell, honey. It's about whether coming out is still a terrifying experience. It's about whether politicians are still using LGBTQ people as campaign talking points. And it's about whether people still feel the need to defend their humanity every June. Unfortunately, the answer to like all of those is like, yes, that all still happens. And that's why we still need pride. That's why when I see stories like the Giants controversy, I don't see like a baseball story. I see a perfect snapshot of where we are culturally. We are living in a moment where LGBTQ people are have achieved incredible progress, yet our existence remains a conversation people feel entitled to debate. We are more visible than we've ever been, but visibility does not automatically equal acceptance. The truth is that if LGBTQ plus equality were fully settled, this story wouldn't have become national news. Nobody would have cared. It would have been a footnote. The fact that we are still talking about it tells us something very important. I mean, it tells us that pride still has a purpose. And like truly, that's probably the most pride month story imaginable. But then, because apparently we can't have a conversation about baseball anymore, without politics showing up, the story took another turn, kind of an unexpected odd turn. But after MLB reportedly warned the players for modifying their uniforms, which, according to the league, was about altering the caps and not about the religious message itself, vice president JD Sofa Humping Vance jumped into the conversation online and posted, Trump won, we don't have to do this anymore. Now, I think what's interesting isn't necessarily the statement itself. It's the way people heard it. Because whether a public figure, especially someone in a position of leadership, makes a comment like that, people naturally start asking the same question. What exactly does this mean when he said this? What does it mean? Does the this mean modifying uniforms? Does it mean pride nights? Does it mean diversity initiatives? Does it mean acknowledging queer fans? The reality is that people interpreted it a lot of different ways. But for many queer people, the comment felt less like an observation and more like a message. It felt like somebody saying the election is over, so we don't need to make space for you anymore unless you agree with us. And whether that was the intended message or not, that's how a lot of people received it. And that's important because leadership isn't just about what you say, it's about how your words are heard by the people who are listening. And when you're one of the most powerful people in the country, your comments don't exist in a vacuum. They become permission slips, they become signals, they become a validation for whatever people already wanted to believe. A validation in this situation, in my opinion, for homophobia. If you're somebody who already thinks that queer people are asking for too much, you hear that comment from JD Vance and you think exactly you're somebody who already feels annoyed by Pride Month. You hear that comment and you think, finally, someone said it. Like if you're somebody who doesn't think that LGBTQ people belong in sports, you read that comment and you think, see, even our sofa humping leader agrees. And that's the part that is quite concerning. Because whether people realize it or not, comments like that reinforce this idea that queer inclusion is an option, that our visibility is negotiable, that acceptance is something society can simply decide to stop doing whenever the political winds shift. It creates this underlying message that queer people are guests in certain spaces rather than equal participants. And honestly, sports has been one of the biggest examples of that forever. I think a lot of straight people don't fully understand how many LGBTQ people have very complicated relationships with sports. Not because we dislike sports, we're all athletic to some degree. Everyone, I mean the entire population of the world. Not because we aren't fans, not because we don't know the rules or appreciate the competition. It's because for many of us, sports culture was one of the first places where we learned there was a right way to be a man and a wrong way to be a man. And for generations, sports culture has been wrapped up in this very specific image of masculinity, which is tough, aggressive, emotionally unavailable. Don't cry, don't be soft, don't be different, don't stand out, don't give people a reason to question you. And if you grew up as a queer kid, chances are you've experienced some version of that pressure. You learn very quickly what gets rewarded and what gets mocked. I tried all the sports as a kid. All of them. I was, listen, story time. I was born a month early and I was very ill. So like I'm little and I, you know, I wonder, because my dad's over six feet. Had I been in the womb a month longer, I could have been a fucking tall glass of water, honey. But I'm five, seven, smaller frame. So when I played sports, I played baseball, I played hockey, I played soccer, I played volleyball in school. I made it further in volleyball than the rest of those sports. But I always ended up stopping because everyone was taller than me, more aggressive. And me being feminine, gay, josh, growing up and in middle school playing these sports is very uncomfortable. And I was bullied because it was like, you have to be fucking tough. So what did I do? I went to the next best gay thing. I became a figure skater because you did not have to work with anybody else. There was few men to bully you. You were surrounded by women, girls who are far more supportive than men or boys, because boys are being taught by their dads to be fucking toxic. And that's what I did. And then I became a dancer. And then I became a professional dancer and I stayed away from sports. I'm athletic. Honestly, I could have kicked some serious fucking ass have I had had I had the confidence, but we try. But in sports is where we learn how unwelcome we are when we are what, 10 years old. So, yes, in sports at a young age, you learn very quickly what gets rewarded and what gets mocked. And the result is that a lot of LGBTQ people become experts at reading a room. We learn how to assess whether it's safe to be ourselves. We learn when to mention our partner that we might be dating and when not to. We learn when to laugh at a joke and when to stay quiet. We learn how to make ourselves smaller in order to avoid confrontation or just becoming part of the conversation. And that doesn't magically disappear when we become adults because we still do all that as adults. There are still plenty of queer people who love sports, obviously, but don't feel completely comfortable in sports spaces. There are people who attend games and stop holding their partner's hand because they don't want to be called out. There are people who lower their voice, change their mannerisms, or avoid talking about their personal life in the baseball stadium because they don't know how the people around them will react. There are people who feel perfectly safe at a concert, a theater, or a restaurant, but suddenly become hyper-aware of themselves when they walk into a sports bar or a hockey arena. Like, think about that. That is the life that we have to live. Imagine loving something like a sport while simultaneously wondering whether you're fully welcome there because of these potbelly, beer-drinking, homophobic motherfuckers who are now emboldened. Sorry, guys. It's true. That's the experience of a lot of queer people and what we've had to experience with sports for most of our lives. And that is why I find it so frustrating when people act like Pride Knights are somehow divisive. Pride is not divisive. Because the entire purpose of these events is to communicate the opposite message. It's that the fucking gays like sports, okay? The point isn't to exclude anyone. The point is to say, hey, like if you've ever felt that this space wasn't for you, we're making it clear that it is. Straight people are welcome to come on Pride Night, but it's also a night to celebrate the gays. That's it. Nobody's changing the rules of baseball here, honey. Nobody is forcing anyone to be gay while they're holding a bat and balls wink wink. Like nobody is replacing the seventh inning with a fucking share concert, although that would be bomb, and I would go for that. The game is still baseball. The players are still playing baseball. The fans are still watching baseball. The only difference is that for one evening, think about that, one fucking night, the organization takes a moment to acknowledge a group of people who historically haven't always felt included. And for that one night, all these fucking bigots get worked up and somehow that becomes controversial. Really. One night, a few hours. And what I keep coming back to is this. Imagine if sports had always been inclusive. Imagine if every kid, regardless of who they were, how big they were or small they were, felt equally welcome from the very beginning. Imagine if young gay athletes never had to hide behind behind who they were. Imagine if queer fans never questioned whether they belonged, if masculinity wasn't treated like this tiny little box that everyone had to squeeze into? How many incredible athletes never pursued sports because they didn't feel welcome? Pointing to myself here. I wanted to play sports. I just felt like I couldn't. How many fans stopped showing up because they were tired of feeling judged by others in the audience and now players? How many people missed out on communities they could have loved because somebody convinced them that they didn't belong there? Well, we will never know. And that's why comments that seem small can have such a large impact because they don't exist independently, they exist within the Decades of queer history, they exist within a culture where queer people have repeatedly been told, directly and indirectly, that certain spaces are not for us, like the sports field. So when a leader says, we don't have to do this anymore, many, many LGBTQ people hear something very different. They hear, we don't have to make room for you anymore. They hear your inclusion was temporary. They hear your welcome has conditions. And I straight up want to know, JD Vance, what did you mean by that? And maybe that's not what he intended, these negative things, but intention and impact are not always the same thing. How about you just be fucking clear about what you're saying and what you mean? The reality is that pride isn't about demanding special treatment. Duh. It's about creating visibility in places where visibility didn't always exist. And it's about making sure that next generations don't spend years wondering whether they belong or not. It's about making it easier for people to show up exactly as they are without feeling like they need to hide parts of themselves to fit in. Like the ultimate goal isn't to have pride nights forever at fucking baseball stadiums, okay? The ultimate goal is to create a world where nobody needs them, where we can just go when we want to go. Like if a rainbow, if a rainbow baseball cap can still spark a national political argument in 2026, I think it's safe to say we are not there yet. And this is why we need Pride Month. Now, another story that's been developing alongside Pride Month this year involves a growing push by some conservative politicians and advocacy groups to promote alternative observances centered on concepts like traditional family values, strong families, and fidelity month. Supporters describe these initiatives as celebrations of marriage and parenting, commitment, and family life. The campaigns have gained attention largely because they tend to be promoted during Pride Month, during June, the same month that Pride Month, June, June month, whatever. Advocates say that these observances are intended to highlight what they view as the importance of traditional family structures and family-centered values. Critics, however, argue that the timing, well, no shit, the timing sends a very different message, suggesting that these campaigns function less as standalone celebrations and more as responses to queer visibility during Pride Month. Because you could have picked any other month, girl. The debate often centers on how family is defined. Supporters of these observances frequently emphasize a model consisting of a husband, wife, and children. And opponents argue that such definitions exclude many families, including queer couples raising children, adoptive families, blended families, single-parent households, and other family structures that fall outside a traditional framework. So, for many queer advocates, the controversy touches on a longer history of exclusion. Same-sex couples spent decades fighting for legal recognition of their relationships and marriage equality and parental rights and other protections that heterosexual couples just receive automatically. Because of that history, efforts to elevate one specific model of family can be viewed by some as reinforcing old distinctions about which relationships and households are considered legitimate. The discussion has become a part of a broader cultural debate over Pride Month itself, while supporters of these alternative observances maintain they are simply celebrating family values, blah, blah, blah. Critics contend that the campaigns emerged specifically because queer visibility remains politically and culturedly and culturally contested. Smile. Spile, look happy. As a result, what might otherwise be a straightforward celebration of family life has become another flashpoint in the ongoing conversation about queer inclusion and recognition and visibility in American public life. Like I want, so like that's all a lot of hoopla, right? What the fuck did I even just say? I feel like I word vomit, right? Straight, cisgender, man, woman, children, white. That's the norm. That's what we have been taught growing up. Happy family. Actually, in the app that I use to edit this podcast, I put a prompt in because I was gonna start adding visuals. And I put a prompt in to their content creator, AI, something or other. And it had to do with family and this and that. And it created the very traditional image of a family. And I'm like, damn, even AI has that traditional family values. And that is fine. I have so many straight friends that have children that are just like the typical, what is it, nuclear family? Like that, that's how the world keeps moving, right? That's how the world keeps growing. That's how we repopulate the planet and we keep generations going. That is fine, but that is not the only way to do things. And so when you make a point of having a nuclear family month, the same month, because you could pick 11 other months, you could, but you didn't, you're sending a message and you're saying that you are, I want to use the word disavow. I'm not sure if that's the right word to use here. Disavowing or excluding, maybe that's a better way, excluding anything that doesn't fit into your straight white Christian narrative. That's that's the theme across the fucking country as of late. So, like you picked that month intentionally. You picked this role, this name for this day intentionally, or the name for your new fucking theme for this month intentionally to send a missile. You're blowing a whistle. Sending a missile? I meant to say sending a message. Don't send a missile. You sent a message, you blew a whistle. I mean, to me, it's just like homophobic. Again, homophobic, bullshit. Don't need it, don't want it. Take your nuclear family and shove it up your ass. That's what I want to say. Okay, I'm moving on. I'm far too sassy today, but I want to talk about another story that happened this month in June. Because if anyone is still wondering, by this point in the episode, you shouldn't be. But if you're still wondering why pride exists, this next one will answer all the questions. I hope I answer all the questions you have. So earlier this June, a group of neo-Nazis reportedly showed up at a Pride event in Athens, Georgia, carrying swastika flags, giving Nazi salutes, and shouting anti-gay slers at attendees. And thankfully, community members and pride attendees refused to let them take over the event. People drowned them out, they stood together, and ultimately prevented them from becoming the focus of the day. But honestly, the part of that story that sticks with me isn't what happened after they arrived. It's the fact that they showed up at all and that like nobody really talked about it. The swastika flags. Because let's pause for a second and really think about that, okay? It's 2026. Mm-hmm. We live in a world where people can order groceries from their phone while sitting on a beach. Artificial intelligence can write essays. It creates artwork and answers questions in seconds. It helps me write my podcast scripts. We've made incredible advances in medicine, technology, and communication. Yet somehow there are still people waking up in the morning deciding to carry swastika flags to a pride event and thinking that's a productive use of their afternoon. And the flags are not the problem. The rainbow flags are. And every June, somebody asks why pride still matters, why there's a parade, why there's celebrations. I'm exhausted. Why there are pride festivals in cities across the country? And every June, stories like this remind me that the answer is very simple. Because there are still people who hate us, who hate the queer community, and have enough time on their hands to organize their hatred and bring their swastika flags around. And whenever stories like this make headlines, there's always a group of people who rush in to minimize it. They'll say it's just a few extremists. They'll say it's just a fringe group. They'll say they don't represent most Americans. And I think that is false. I do. I feel like most Americans are emboldened now, and a large percentage of them are coming out of the woodwork. Like, I don't think most Americans are neo-Nazis. No, I certainly do not. I don't think most Americans support those groups that are neo neo-Nazis and what they stand for. But I do think there's a lot of really shitty people coming out of the woodwork thinking it's okay now. Like I just hope most people don't go, hey, it's Brad. They need some swastikas. Hopefully they're not thinking that. But I think that response, like minimizing it, misses the point. The point isn't like how many of these people have swastika flags. The point is who they chose to target, because they could have gone anywhere with those flags, right? If these groups are supposedly just looking for attention, why do they keep showing up at Pride events? And why are queer celebrations repeatedly viewed as acceptable targets for harassment? Why aren't they showing up, I don't know, at food festivals or disrupting farmers' markets? Why aren't they spending their weekends screaming at people attending craft fairs or like wine tastings? The answer is because pride represents something they fundamentally oppose, which is visibility. Pride represents inclusion. It represents the idea that queer people deserve to exist openly and unapologetically in public spaces. And that's exactly what they don't want. They don't want us to exist in public spaces. A lot of people don't, whether they have swastika flags or not. And what makes this story even more disturbing is the symbolism involved. A swastika isn't just an offensive image, it isn't just some generic symbol of being a terrible person. It represents one of the most hateful and destructive ideologies in history. And one thing that often gets left out of conversations about Nazi Germany is the LGBTQ people that were targeted, which is a great topic for another episode. Gay men were arrested in prison and persecuted. Many were sent to concentration camps. Thousands suffered under a regime that viewed them as undesirable and unworthy of existing openly in society. So when people show up at a Pride event carrying swastikas, they're not simply expressing disagreement with Pride Month. They're invoking a symbol connected to a movement that actively persecuted LGBTQ people. And honestly, I think stories like this reveal one of the biggest misunderstandings that people have about pride. A lot of people see pride as a celebration and they stop there. They see rainbow flags, they see music, they see dancing, they see people having fun, they see glitter and drag queens and parade floats and parties. And because that's what they see on the surface, they assume that's all that pride is. Don't judge a book by its cover. But pride did not start as a party. Pride started as a response. And I will not rehash that response, but we know LGBTQ people were told that they did not belong and they don't belong. And that's why Pride started as a protest and a response, not as a celebration. We came and we had to reclaim our shit, honey. Also, just I'm gonna pause for a hot second. This is, I'm totally gonna go on a side tangent, side rant here. I've had a few people be like, why aren't you just yourself on your podcast? I bet you'd be like way more famous and like have more downloads if you're just like just yourself. And like I cuss a lot in life. I've got a lot of sass and attitude, but I also wanted a podcast that was helpful. And so this is an aspect of me, a side of me, that um, you know, when I'm talking about history or mental health, that like doesn't really require me to be a raging cunt. But this episode clearly has me heated. And before I came in here to record and earlier this week, I was like, you know what? I'm gonna start just being savage. Like maybe I, maybe I do. Maybe I am holding back and I don't realize it. So that's why if you're like, whoa, Josh is on one, I'm on one. And I will probably continue to be on one as the podcast moves forward. I also the other day, I went on um threads and I was like, you know what? I'm just gonna do what the mega people do and go through all of the hateful homophobic com comments and leave like the most insane comments and just be like, you're a dumb, ugly bitch to people that are leaving or posting homophobic stuff about like how Pride Month shouldn't exist and we're all gonna burn in hell. I literally commented, I was like, you look like you put your head through a lawnmower or like random shit like that. I'm like, you know what? I'm so fucking tired of being PC. I'm so exhausted of trying to like use my words wisely because all these people do is hate. They spew hate, they show up with their swastika flags, and I'm just like, well, let's visit why they did this and how come we still need pride. Fuck you, bigots, fuck you, Nazis, with your swastika symbols, fuck the president, fuck the vice president, fuck the San Francisco Giants who wrote that Bible verse, fuck you guys. Like, seriously. So I'm done being PC. This podcast is gonna get a hell of a lot sassier. Part of me is like, you should delete that, but I'm not going to because this is me, honey. So let's get back to why we're here. I just thought I should, I was kind of like, you're you're on one. Let me explain why. I'm gonna start being absolutely insane on hot air because after all, this is my podcast. Okay, reeling it in for a hot second so we can continue with this episode. Now, the reason pride still exists, and what this story shows is that people want us to disappear into the shadows, right? Where nobody needs to acknowledge us. That is why pride exists. Pride exists because people show up with swastika flags, okay? It's fucking wild. What, okay, what's encouraging though is that the story didn't end with hatred. The story ended with community, the story with the swastika flags, the community banded together and they refused to be intimidated. The story ended with attendees standing together and making it clear that this handful of extremists were not going to dictate the tone of the event. And that is pride too. And that is also why we need pride to bring us motherfuckers together. Pride isn't the absence of hatred. Pride is what happens despite the hatred. Write that one down. Pride is and has always been a community deciding that fear does not get the final word. Because honestly, I'm going to NYC. Well, when this comes out, I will have already been to NYC Pride. And I'm nervous because there's so many fucking shootings and sappings and craziness going on. I'm scared. But like if we all are scared and stay home, pride is done. You gotta go, whether you're scared or not, because pride is looking at those who want you invisible and choosing to be visible, to stand in the streets, to wear whatever the fuck you want, to get your ass out there and fucking celebrate. And pride is looking at those who want you to feel ashamed and choosing to celebrate yourself anyway. Print that on 7,000 t-shirts. That was a long sentence, but print it on a t-shirt, okay? That's why I think stories like that, like the Nazis, are important. Not because they represent the majority of people. Hopefully they do not, but most people are not neo-Nazis. Most people don't show up to pride events carrying hate. They usually keep their hate at home. But the fact that these groups still exist, not only mind-boggling, but they feel empowered to target communities, queer communities, like that tells us everything we need to know. And it should remind us that equality isn't just about laws, it's about culture and safety and belonging, which swastika flags represent none of that. Now, there's one other final thing, I think, anyway, that I've been thinking about a lot this Pride Month. And it's not a single headline or crazy Nazi story, and it's more of a feeling and observance, and like you probably notice it too. It feels a little bit quieter this year. And for years, every June, I mean, you could set it by your watch, because it's June or your calendar, companies would change their logos, television networks would run Pride campaigns, brands would release Pride merch, social media feeds would feel filled with rainbow-colored graphics, messages of support, and reminders that queer people existed and deserve to be included. And some people loved it, some people hated it, some people rolled their eyes and called it rainbow capitalism. But regardless of how you felt about it, there was one thing you could not deny. It's that LGBTQ visibility was everywhere. And this year feels different. I have certainly noticed fewer Pride commercials, and none, I don't think I've seen any, fewer Pride campaigns, fewer Rainbow logos, fewer companies making public statements, some brands that once loudly celebrated Pride have become noticeably quieter. Others have scaled back their pride collections or eliminated them entirely. And what's interesting is the reason often given for this shift, like many people claim is actually a sign of progress. They argue that if queer people are truly equal, then maybe we don't need all of the rainbow branding anymore. Maybe equality means not being singled out. Maybe pride has simply become less necessary. My eyes could not roll harder. And honestly, in a perfect world, I could get behind that argument. But honey, we do not live in a perfect world. If we lived in a society where LGBTQ rights were no longer under attack, like where people weren't being used as political talking points and where hate crimes were not increasing in some areas where families never rejected their children for coming out, where nobody questioned whether queer people belonged or didn't belong in schools, sports, workplaces, or public life, then maybe acquired a pride month would feel like progress. But I don't know if you know is that's not the world that we live in right now. That's what makes this moment feel so different. The visibility is decreasing while the attacks continue and increase. The support is becoming quieter while the criticism grows and remains bold and loud. And that does not feel like a quality. That doesn't feel like a reason to end Pride Month. That feels like retreat. Like we have to go hide and hide again. Like, take Target as an example. Just a few years ago, Target was one of the most visible corporate supporters of Pride Month. Their stores featured large Pride displays, pride merchandise was like front and center. Then came the backlash. Employees were harassed, threats were made, stores faced pressure from activists and angry customers. And in response, Target significantly reduced or relocated their pride merchandise in many locations, which I kind of get because you can't have your employees being attacked. The company framed the decision as being about employee safety, which is, again, understandable. Nobody wants workers like being threatened over a retail display that they didn't even design. Like they're just trying to point you to the fucking soap. I don't know. But from the perspective of many queer people, the takeaway wasn't like Target is protecting its employees. The takeaway was the pressure worked from those conservative little bitches. And that's like a really dangerous message because when opposition succeeds in making support disappear, it teaches people that intimidation is extremely effective. And we've seen very similar stories play out across multiple industries. Bud Light became the center of a national controversy after working with transgender influencer Dylan Mulvaney. What followed was months of outrage, boycotts, and endless media coverage. The conversation wasn't really about beer, which comes as no surprise. I don't drink beer. Good, whatever. It wasn't even really about marketing. It became a cultural battle over whether queer people, specifically trans people, should be visible at all. And what strikes me most about this backlash is how many companies watch the backlash and quietly decide they didn't want to be next. You could almost see like corporate America collectively thinking, maybe let's just sit this one out. And that was a few years ago. But now it's even worse. And like part of me gets it because you can't have your whole corporation falling apart. Like businesses don't like controversy. And I guess being a fucking homo is controversial now. Businesses need predictability to run. They they run off of profits. And I I kind of understand it's it's hard for me to even say, but I kind of understand why a company might decide that putting a rainbow logo isn't worth the headache. But that's when people need to be brave. But also, let's call it what it is. That's not a sign that equality has been achieved. It's a sign that support has become far more expensive. And money makes the world go round, baby. Don't I know it? Because I made like what, 60 cents off this podcast so far. But that is when, when this happens, that's when support matters the most. And that's also when you know what brands you should be following and purchasing products. It's easy to stand with someone when the world agrees and like the people that hate them are quiet. It's easy to be supportive when there's no risk and when like posting a rainbow graphic doesn't generate any negative headlines, like it's just positivity. The real test comes when that support starts costing more, when it costs something. The real test comes when there's backlash and like when people start getting angry. The real test comes when standing beside a marginalized community is no longer the easiest or safest choice, but you do it anyway. That's when I like you. That's when you find out who actually believes in inclusion and who was simply just following the trend because they make money off of us during pride season. And like, listen, I'm not sitting here saying every corporation needs to become an LGBTQ advocate organization. That's not their role. Most of us were already skeptical of rainbow capitalism to begin with. Like we joke about it every year. We laugh at companies changing their logo for 30 days and then pretending that like queer people didn't exist for the other 11 months. Like you do have to look at where they put their money. Money is, what is that saying? Put your money where your mouth is, but like representation still matters. When a young, queer person sees themselves reflected in media and advertising and entertainment and public life, it sends a message. It tells them that they are not alone. It tells them they're part of society, it tells them they belong. I keep for some reason seeing like a BMW logo that's got a rainbow in it, and like a queer kid in middle America seeing like a commercial with a gay couple and a BMW and like imagining and wishing they that that will be their life when they grow up. Like that stuff is important. And let's face it, gays love driving BMWs. Straight people, they can't afford them because gays statistically make more money than you, straight people. But listen, this is why the rollback matters, okay? When support quietly disappears, people begin to notice. And it was very quiet. Like maybe not everyone notices, but I mean, I certainly notice, and the gays notice. We notice when companies stop posting in support of Pride Month. We notice when television programming changes. We notice when organizations suddenly decide that they want to remain neutral. And that's another word I've heard a lot lately is neutral. Just take a neutral stance. Everyone wants to be neutral. The problem is that neutrality can feel very different depending on where you are standing. Neutrality is allowing, let's be real, hatred. If one side is demanding inclusion and the other side is demanding exclusion, stepping back doesn't always feel neutral to the people that are being excluded. Sometimes it just feels like you're leaving them to fight alone. And that's why I think that this moment is so incredibly important because support is most valuable when it's inconvenient. Allyship is most meaningful when there is something at stake. Anyone can stand beside a community when it's popular. The real question is whether people will still stand beside that community when it becomes controversial. And the truth is, I don't need every company in America to change their logo every June. I don't need a rainbow cereal box every time I go to the grocery store. I don't need rainbow potato chips, although I love chips and like that would be cool. A rainbow Dorito would be bomb. Like I don't need every commercial to include a pride flag. That's not what we are asking for. What I do need is for people to understand that visibility is not the same thing, a special treatment. Just acknowledging us isn't political. Recognizing our existence is not and should not be controversial. Including us is not radical. We're human beings. And it's basic human dignity. And until queer people can move through the world without having our rights debated, our identities politicized, and our visibility treated as controversial and being jumped in the fucking street, we still need people willing to stand with us publicly. Because equality isn't measured by how people treat you when it is easy. It's measured by how people treat you when supporting you becomes difficult. Something else I've noticed is the view. You know the TV show, The View? How can you not know? I watch The View every single day. It is what I watch on my treadmill while I'm warming up at the gym. And I've noticed that as far as I can tell, they have not done anything for Pride Month. And there's Democrats, Republicans, Independents. You know, they claim to represent everyone. And I enjoy watching them have these conversations. I also watch other news networks so I don't just get my updates from one place. But The View will do Women's History Month. The View will do Black History Month. The View used to do Pride Month to a degree where they had rainbows on their screen in the back. I'm pretty sure I remember a much more elaborate Pride display. And they have not done anything. And that shows me a lot. Now, it's not the host's decision, it's the network's decision. But that is a moment when hosts of the view could stand up, could say something, could allude to something, could drop little hints here and there. I really haven't seen much support on any television show. I have seen no pride ads. I can't recall a single logo. Actually, that's a lie. HelloFresh posted something the other day about it. It was really quite funny. It was about bottoming and how they deliver these meals that are high in fiber. And I made a comment. It was like, yes, like it's so refreshing to see a company that is still out there promoting pride. And they had done a pride post and then HelloFresh like left a comment to my comment and liked it, whatever. And I was like, good. Like it's it's not terrible. Like your company is not gonna go under if you support us for a little bit. You don't have to change your logo to a rainbow. You don't have to do some crazy thing, but some acknowledgement goes a long way. And I used to use HelloFresh. So then that made me be like, hmm, should I use HelloFresh again? So HelloFresh, actually, you you support a lot of other podcasts. So I need you to support this podcast. I'm waiting for you to submit an ad. ASAP, please. So really all of that to say is if support starts disappearing the moment that the pressure arrives, then that's not evidence that we have won. That is evidence that we still need pride and we still have work to do. So as we start to wrap up today's episode, I want to come back to the question that we started with why do we still need pride? And I'm sure I'll be here next year asking the same question. After looking at these stories that we discussed, I think the answer is extremely clear. We talked about San Francisco Giants Pride Night controversy and why the context there matters. We talked about political leaders weighing in on queer visibility. We talked about efforts to create competing observances centered around so-called traditional family month values during Pride Month. We talked about these wild neo-Nazis showing up at Pride events carrying swastikas and anti-gay rhetoric. And we talked about the growing number of brands and organizations quietly stepping back from pride support as the culture pressure increases. I'm winded, you guys. I feel like I can't even talk anymore. Individually, each story might seem like its own isolated incident, but like together, this paints a bigger picture. They show us that LGBTQ people are still being debated every day. Our visibility is still controversial. Our families are still discussed differently than other straight cisgender families. Our inclusion is still viewed as some by political, and our existence still generates reactions like hate that other groups do not experience. So our takeaway today is that it's not that progress hasn't happened, because it has. We've come further than many people have thought possible. The takeaway is that progress and equality are not the same thing. And progress means we moved forward. Equality means we no longer have to justify that we are fucking here. We don't have to defend our place in society or explain why we deserve the same dignity and respect as these other straight motherfuckers get. Okay. And based on the stories we've discussed today, I think it's fair to say that we are still working on that part. And all of that means we still need pride. The good news is that every story we discussed also included people who showed up and spoke up and pushed back and supported one another and refused to disappear somewhere, right? That's what pride has always been about. Not perfection, not politics, not rainbow logos, community visibility, and the belief that everyone deserves the freedom to live authentically without being afraid of that. Like, I just don't want to be scared walking down the street anymore. And if today's conversation resonated with you, obviously I would love to hear your thoughts, only if they're good. Okay. Follow me on Instagram and TikTok at underscore hotairpod. You can visit my website, hotair with joshuaroberts.com, to shop my merch, submit your listener stories and topic suggestions, and be ready for me to become way more sassy. Like I've just literally had it up to here. I've had enough. Like the bitch is coming out, okay? And as always, thank you for spending part of your day with me. Happy Pride. Pride month is almost over, but the fight will never end, apparently. Take care of yourselves. Keep having these important conversations. And remember that progress only happens when people are willing to keep showing up, like you did and like I did today. And I will see you next Tuesday.

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H O D A I R A. Let's be real, deliver hot air.