pride firsts

ride Month comes at a difficult time this year. Much of the world is still in quarantine, mourning the unfathomable loss of nearly half a million people from COVID-19, more than 100,000 of them here in the United States. Meanwhile, as protests sweep the nation in response to the hideous recent murders of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, David McAtee and other unarmed Black Americans at the hands of police officers, celebrating anything at the moment seems impossible. But like so many voices in the LGBTQ+ community remind us, Pride takes many forms, and one of those forms can be outrage. Another can be action. Pride began more than 50 years ago as a riot and a protest against injustice. There won’t be any festivals or parades this year, but members of the LGBTQ+ community and their allies can channel that same spirit and frustration into support for the Black community, which is disproportionately affected by police brutality and systemic racial violence by a criminal justice system that has failed to protect them over and over again. Black lives matter. Black queer lives matter. Black trans lives matter. Black folks are LGBTQ+ folks, and there’s no Pride without intersectionality and activists of color. Since the Stonewall riots of 1969, this community has relied on Black LGBTQ+ activists like Marsha P. Johnson who refused to stay silent or stand down. What the most recent wave of protests has reminded us is that it’s not enough to not be racist; we have to be anti-racist in order to effect real and permanent change. With that said, we present PRIDE FIRSTS—a collection of stories from major voices in the LGBTQ+ community about a memorable “first” they’ve experienced in their lifetime. Many described the first Pride attended, while others recalled the emotional moment of the first time they came out. Each story is different and illustrates how diverse and extraordinary the LGBTQ+ community really is. As we’ve already stated, Pride is nothing without intersectionality. So as we celebrate Pride in a year that looks quite different from years past, let’s be conscious of how many communities are still marginalized and how much work still needs to be done to achieve true equality in the world.

26 LGBTQ+ CELEBS SHARE A PIVOTAL FIRST MOMENT IN THEIR PRIDE JOURNEY

By Jason Pham

In June of 2018, I went to my first Pride parade in Los Angeles with my mom. I was a closeted bisexual at the time and only felt like a spectator to the love and validation that Pride gives countless others. Nevertheless, watching people affirming themselves unapologetically, loving each other for all of who they were, and destroying the stigmas built from hate or fear was inspirational and transformative. My mother and I saw our first drag queens, shared laughs, danced in the streets, and I knew I didn't want to be a spectator any longer. There is an inspiration in being a Pride spectator, but there is power in being an open participant. This year I will celebrate my first Pride as an openly bisexual man with my boyfriend, and I feel a remarkable sense of power in claiming my truth.

My first Pride was in 2009 in Toronto. I was actually still in the closet, but I decided to go to the Pride parade with one of my friends. I was nervous and also really excited at the same time. I put on a cute outfit, which looking back was probably not cute at all. If I had to guess what I was wearing I would say it was most likely baggy jeans and a V-neck T-shirt. My ‘hottest’ outfit that I owned. Even though I was still in the closet, I felt this incredible feeling that I was with people who were just like me. I felt connected to them. I felt safe and I felt lucky to be there with my friend. We really didn’t do anything that day besides watching the parade, but I always think of how brave I felt for going and being a part of the day. When I think of Pride, I always think of that young guy who didn’t know exactly where he fit in in the world and how that day helped me to feel a part of something really special.

I don't enjoy large group gatherings like parades. Because of this, I took Pride for granted, and it wasn’t until a couple years ago that I really realized the impact of the celebration of Pride. In 2018, I produced a three-hour livestream called Pride Live. The idea was to bring Pride to people who didn’t have Pride events where they lived. It was a raucous good time, but it was the feedback from it that really helped me appreciate Pride on a whole new level. We had people who sent messages from conservative states like Nebraska saying, ‘I’m not out. There’s no Pride in my town. There’s no Pride in my community. Thank you for making me feel like I’m a part of something.’ And that's when it hit me how much I took Pride for granted. It was a moment to check myself and my privilege. As a queer person who works in media, it’s important for me to continue to show healthy, happy stories about the queer community for the people who don’t get to see it in their daily lives. I am proud to be queer, and I want you to feel proud too.

I was 20 years old when I went to my first gay club in Hawaii. I wore an all-black outfit with black skinny jeans from the women’s section of Topshop and a black button-up that showed my cleavage and was unbuttoned down to my midriff. I looked sickening. My makeup was also beat to the gods. I had this gold that went into a black smokey eye and a nude lip. I was under 21, so I had to stand in a line, but I still had a blast. By the end of the night, I sweat all my makeup off and my lashes were down to my chin. I’d been to straight events before, but they were nothing like a gay club. At straight events, I felt judged. At the gay club, I felt loved. I felt like a queen. Everyone was so nice, and I felt comfortable. This year was supposed to be my first Pride festival. I was going to attend one in Hawaii and one in LA with my publicist, and we were going to live our best gay lives. I’m 21 now and I can drink, so I felt like this year was going to be the first year where I can go to the club and not be in a line. Miss ‘Rona stopped all that, but that’s OK because my message to everyone would be Pride is every day. Pride is wherever you are, and I find a new way to be gay every day.

I was 17 when I went to my first Pride in Rochester, New York. I had just left home in Racine, Wisconsin, and I had no idea what Pride was really about. I dressed in all white and wanted to wear angel wings. But because I was 17 and was barely employed, I found some cheap white butterfly wings with silver glitter on them and called them my angel wings. At Pride, there was a song that played that scored my entire experience. The song was ‘Unspeakable Joy’ by Kim English. I remember the lyrics: ‘Joy. Unspeakable joy. ‘Cause they did not give, and they cannot take it away.’ When I heard the song, it was the first feeling of freedom that my parents or anyone else who didn't approve of me couldn't take away my joy or my pride. After Pride, I had been freed to express myself. I realized that my spirit was begging to be freed. That summer was my first and last Pride as my previous self. Rochester was also where I did my first drag show. It was at a bar called Marcella's, and I wore a two-piece swimsuit with a bottom that looked more like a skirt. The swimsuit was baby blue with white daffodils on it, and I wore a full black wig with it. I remember all the other drag queens told me, 'You're not a drag queen, girl.' They used the slang T-word that we don't use anymore. I had no idea what a trans person was at the time. I remember I met a black trans woman named Miss Armani, who was a performer. I saw myself in her, and within days, I started to transition. There was also a drag queen named Helena Troy, who helped me find my name. She was like, 'What about Vivica?' I tried that for a minute, but it didn't feel like me. I told her I want to be an angelic presence, an angel. She suggested Angelique, but that didn't fit either. Then she was like, 'What about Angelica?' Immediately, I knew that was my name. Pride started as a riot and a protest, and I believe that we need to return to that because what happens is that the music is so loud and the parade is so distracting that it's moving past folks who are in the margins, suffering and dying from a lack of housing, employment and healthcare. Every Pride, I want us to ask ourselves, ‘What are we proud of? Can we be proud of how we're serving our community?’ If not, what can we do to make sure the work we're doing is work we're proud of? There was so much support behind marriage equality and causes like that, but we need to see the same protest for Black lives. Because Black people are also LGBTQ+ people. I ask us to challenge ourselves to do more so that we can be prouder of the work we do for intersectionality.

My first pride was in Los Angeles, 2010. I had a pretty serious girlfriend at the time, and I remember putting on some of her clothes for the day of festivities. She tolerated it to say the least. Lol. But I knew that besides the obvious reasons of wanting to play dress up, there was a sense of needing to feel out of body. A running away, a hiding of sorts. I didn’t want people to recognize me on that boulevard, even as an ally, and that’s fucked up. That was only 10 years ago! Thank god those days are over. So put on a dress, a wig, a lip, for whatever reason you need to. It doesn’t always get better, especially in the world we are living in. But my god, we can be better. We have that power. We can get better.

I was 17 years old when I attended my first Pride in Denver. I had just moved there, and it was less than two years after I came out. I went with my roommates and a group of friends. We walked in the parade and went to dance parties at night. It was shocking to me as a teenager from Missouri to see all of downtown closed down, with tents and vendors everywhere, and straight people, gay people, kids and adults all walking around and enjoying Pride. It was really the first time I had Pride. It was this magical experience to see everyone come together, no matter what you identify as in terms of your gender or sexual orientation. It was an enlightened moment. With everything in the world, we can’t celebrate Pride in-person this year, but that’s not the only way we can support each other. Before my first Pride, I didn’t have access to groups of gay people. I had to find my support online, and I found a gay friend online named Jesse. He helped me come to terms with who I was and accepting and loving myself. My advice this Pride is to go out of your way and find people who need a mentor, advice and support for what they’re going through. Being able to get together at Pride festivals is great, but that isn’t the only way we can be there for each other.

A really significant Pride first for me was my first Pride in Los Angeles. Coming to the West Coast from Maine, where our biggest city has a population of only 66,000, it was a complete culture shock. Los Angeles Pride was a totally different beast than the small town Prides I was used to. Back home, our Pride took up a small section of the city park with a few rows of tables for vendors and local organizations, and we DEFINITELY didn’t have [a gay bar like] Micky’s. There were more people gathered for this one event than I had ever seen before in my life, and they were all there celebrating my community! It was truly the biggest, bestest, gayest party I had ever gone too, and I loved every second of it. I’ve gone every year since, so having Pride events canceled this year is hard, but I’m glad to see everyone working to keep the spirit of celebration alive.

I remember going to my first Pride. To be exact, it was the Long Beach Pride. I felt overwhelmed with excitement from the beautiful visuals I’d seen of people freely expressing themselves without any hesitation to the boundaries built on social norms. Pride was the first time I’d been amongst a large number of people who simply wanted to celebrate life and love. I remember feeling safe amongst hundreds of other human beings for the first time in my life.

The first time I performed in drag was in my ninth grade English class in Paris, Texas. We had to do a book report on the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and our teacher asked us to retell the story in a creative way. Some people built little models. Some people drew pictures. Honey, I dressed as Tina Turner. I wore a black dress that I borrowed from my cousin and a black wig from my granny that I spiked up with gel. I did my makeup with red lipstick and red blush from my grandma. I also had tennis balls as boobs that jumped all over the place when I started dancing. I performed ‘Proud Mary’ and used the ‘rolling on the river’ lyrics to talk about how Huck went down to the river with Jim. Honey, the teacher loved it so much. I got an A+ and she invited me back for three different classes to perform it. My only introductions to drag at the time were the movies To Wong Foo and Mrs. Doubtfire but I’ll always remember how much fun I had performing in class. That was maybe my first bite by the drag bug. When I started backup dancing for drag queens and performing myself, I had that same spirit and energy. I’ve held onto that feeling throughout my entire drag career.

Picture this—it’s 2012 (or 2013) in Central Illinois. Cornfields. A state university where Mosaic was invented, the first graphical web browser, that popularized the World Wide Web and the Internet. My friend and I decide we’re going to Chicago’s Pride Parade, and it’s my first time going. We drive up most of the way and park at a metro station and take the train the rest of the way in—we do each other’s makeup during the ride—as the car slowly fills up with more and more queer people, and everybody is buzzing. We land at Union Station and make our way up to Lakeview, a major part of the parade’s route. It’s packed, I cry, I’m overwhelmed. I’ve never been around so many LGBTQ people before, and I’ve never seen so many other trans people before. We don’t just attend the parade—we march with bisexual and queer pride, and we dance in the street, and people cheer for me—and they don’t even know who I am. When the parade is over, my friend notices he has dropped his phone in the crowd of thousands of people and we’re sure we’re never going to get it back, but we do! Somebody picks the phone up and manages to call someone on his address list, and the phone is safely returned to us before we go home. This is my first experience with so many community members in the same place, and I feel so welcomed, and so validated, and I felt celebrated. And that’s how I want everyone to feel—celebrated by others, and like they have the space to celebrate themselves during this month. For anyone who might be having a first-time Pride experience this year—in-person events are out, but keep the celebration in. You are worthy of celebration!

An LGBTQ role model that impacted my life was Octavia St. Laurent. I was 19 years old, going to college in Philly when I saw her in the now-legendary documentary Paris Is Burning. As soon as she graced the TV screen, my eyes lit up. I felt seen for the first time (as my true self). I felt she was talking directly to me as she told her story. Such ambition, and for a trans woman, it was something I didn’t know existed. I was so excited because this was the very first time I saw someone like me claiming space, with a dream, being confident and knowing what she deserved. Seeing her story on that documentary would become the blueprint for my own transition two years later. A message I want to send to the community in these chaotic times is no matter where you are and what your situation currently is...never lose your pride. Stand up strong and claim your space just like Octavia St. Laurent did. You’ve earned it. We’ve earned it, for we are warriors of the cause.

There’s a scene in season 1 of Schitt's Creek where David explains his pansexuality to Stevie using a wine analogy, saying that he likes the wine, not the label. That was the first time I had ever heard the word ‘pansexual.’ David was schooling both me AND Stevie. Cut to five years later, I couldn’t help but notice that people were often debating my sexuality on social media, some saying that I was a lesbian and others saying that I was bisexual. Then, one person chimed in with, ‘I think she’s just into the wine, not the label.’ That sounded familiar. I went to Dan [Levy] and was like, ‘I don’t feel like I’m straight, lesbian, or bi. I just like the person and it doesn’t matter to me where they're situated on the gender spectrum.’ Dan’s answer was, ‘Do you not watch our show? YOU’RE PAN!’

The first time I came out was in the spring of 2013. It was my first year at Howard University in Washington, D.C. I spent the first semester estranged from a lot of my friends as I was trying to figure out who am I and what am I doing? Growing up in Birmingham, Alabama, I didn’t have many people to talk to about my first kiss or my first sexual relation with a man until I motivated myself to come out to my best friend of 10 years. We went to high school together. Now we were in college together, and I realized that I missed her and I wasn’t being truthful with her. So I texted her—she’s probably one of the only numbers I know by heart—and I said, ‘Meet me a little later today. I want to tell you something.’ We decided on 4 p.m. My heart beat faster as the time came closer and closer. I could feel the nerves build up as I approached the moment of truth I was about to have with someone who I know loves me. So I sit down and we have the little tête-à-tête that we do. A little bit of sass. A little bit of ‘I miss you, bitch.’ We talked a bit before I said, ‘Let’s just get to the point. I don’t want to waste your time because you’re probably at the edge of your seat. I know you too damn well.’ I could feel the beads of sweat start to pile up around my hairline and nose, and I said, ‘I wanted to come out and tell you that I’ve been attracted to men for a very long time. This is my truth. This is who I am. You’re the first person to know. I was really nervous about what this means for my safety and how we were raised and brought up. I want your support and I couldn’t continue to not let you know that I’m queer.’ She was like, ‘Girl, I mean, we already knew this. We were waiting for you to tell us.’ It was so beautiful to have this heavy burden be lifted. It was like an angel came and lifted it off my shoulders. From there on, it was full steam ahead. Reclaiming my time and space. Reclaiming my truth. Allowing myself to push through fear. I hope this liberates so many young people to know that we all need our chosen families. We need our people who surround us, support us and make us feel seen, heard and valued when others cannot. That moment with my best friend gave me the strength and the wind beneath my wings to be unapologetic about who I am. Let the record show that I am Ryan Jamaal Swain, and I am a queer male. I am an actor who happens to be queer. I am a brother who happens to be queer. I am a confidant who happens to be queer. It is a part of me. But it is not all of me. I hope that liberates somebody out there to understand that that is only a part of your tapestry, a part of your kaleidoscope. But it doesn’t govern everything and how everyone perceives you. I’m a living witness, a continued witness, to how I am forging this new path for queer people and all marginalized experiences. I fight for y’all and I love y’all.

The first person I ever came out to was my friend Brandon. We were teenagers and we were cast in a summer musical together at the local children's theatre. I was wearing these black velvet shoes and he asked if he could pet them because they looked so soft. That night I told him I was gay. It was out of sheer excitement. We had spent the entire day belting out showtunes (obvi), and it was the first time I really felt like I was being 10 percent myself. This summer, we’ll celebrate 12 years of friendship.

I had a ‘Pride first’ moment recently when I did RuPaul's Drag Ra As I watched and simultaneously received messages from fans, it was the first time I felt and believed it was OK to be me up on the stage in drag. I'm not tall and skinny and white, which I thought people would prefer. At the end of the day, it can sometimes be our own community that holds standards to stereotypes, whether it's to be gay, transgender, etc. Even in the LGBTQ+ community it can be challenging to be a little different than what society tells us we have to be. My experience being on RuPaul's Drag Race was the first time I got to see and feel firsthand that it is OK to be extremely different from the ‘norm’ and successful. During these strange times, my message to the LGBTQ+ community is to have hope. In a world where things aren't sure, we have to remember that tomorrow isn't promised, so live today at its fullest with hope in your heart that things will work out for the good. It's a tragic time, but even in tragedy comes something beautiful. We can honor and love those we have lost and still have hope and grow.

Ryan Russell

NFL Player

Adam Rippon

Olympic Figure Skater & Host of

Hannah Hart

Internet Superstar

Bretman Rock

Internet Superstar

Angelica Ross

Actor,

Nico Tortorella

Actor,

Bobby Berk

Design Expert,

Nicole Maines

Actor,

Hailie Sahar

Actor,

Shangela

RuPaul’s Drag Race Alum & Co-Host of We’re Here

Theo Germaine

Actor, The Politician

Isis King

Model & Actor, When They See Us

Emily Hampshire

Actor, Schitt’s Creek

Ryan Jamaal Swain

Actor, Pose

Frankie Rodriguez

Actor, High School Musical: The Musical: The Series

Alex Newell

Singer & Actor, Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist

When marriage equality passed in the US, I was in Toronto with one of my best friends celebrating Toronto Pride. We were grabbing drinks when the news bulletins came through. Our waiter wrote us a lovely congratulatory note that nearly brought me to tears. From that moment on, that Pride was different. We were fully free. We could celebrate who we were away from home and then return with the right to marry the one we love, should we choose. It is a right that everyone in this country deserves. I’ll never forget that moment.

Rahne Jones

Actor, The Politician

When I was growing up, there was only one out gay person at my high school. Looking back, the courage it took for him to be out was immense...When people suspected I was gay, many of them began to do awful things. My house was trashed multiple times; I was always trailed and taunted in the hallways; kids would try and fight me in groups after school; and some students even made fake social profiles of me, making fun of what a ‘fag’ I was. Luckily, I had a friend from childhood who reached out to me when he saw what was going on. He was a senior and his name was Ronnie. The last time we'd hung out we were 10, but he took the time to talk to me about going through something similar. He invited me to hang out with him and his friends, which, looking back, really saved me...It was like I was living a double life for a long time, hiding my authentic self at school but hanging out with the LGBTQ+ community after hours on weekdays and weekends. It gave me a safe place to discover myself and to begin to appreciate my community. I’ll always be grateful to Ronnie and his friends for showing me the love that exists in our diverse, vibrant, big-hearted community. I learned that our community's bounds are limitless when it comes to supporting each other, and that there’s always more room to show others love.

Garrett Clayton

Actor, Teen Beach Movie & Hairspray Live!

For years I grew up listening to my older queer friends talk about LA Pride for weeks leading up, and weeks after—the people they met, the most amazing experiences they had…the absolute joy that it brought them was clear and something I always wanted to see for myself to really understand what it meant to them. I finally got to experience my first Pride in LA in 2018. As soon as I was there, I began to understand why it would be one of the most important parts of my queer journey. No place celebrates inclusion and freedom like Pride. Everything is not only accepted, but celebrated and applauded. It is the most warm feeling to be welcomed so fiercely into a community so diverse and varied. I just remember feeling so emotional the week after because of the way I finally felt like I belonged to a community that was thrilled to have me, and that healed so much shame I had stored within myself.

Rebecca Black

Singer

I think it's pretty easy these days to look at Pride with a fair amount of cynicism, at least I do. The parade itself feels like a never-ending runway show for the hippest allies at Bank of America. But while there's definitely a lot of room for critique, it's still really hard for me to deny how powerful someone's first Pride can be. My first Pride parade was Chicago, it was 2005, I had been out for less than a year and I lied to my parents so I could drive up with my friends Dan and Kaitlin. I don't know that I had ever been in such a large group of people before, let alone a crowd made up largely of other queer people. We could barely see the actual parade from where we were standing, but when we heard that the gay asian contingent was about to pass by, Dan—a fellow gay Asian and early blowjob partner—and I were determined to push our way to the front. We made it, but at some point, as we were hustling our way through the crowd, someone knocked my glasses off my face and into the parade route. One of the Asians walking the route ran up, grabbed them and rushed them back into my hands, planting a familial peck on my cheek as he did. I'll always remember that. Pride today is a lot of things: a menagerie of corporate influences, a celebration, a protest, and for some 16-year-old in the crowd, it's a promise of maybe just one single moment of joy that you'll carry with you for the rest of your life.

Joel Kim Booster

Comedian & Co-Host of Singled Out

I remember my first Pride ever, and it was in Los Angeles. I'm from a small town in Indiana where you could get killed for expressing your queerness; I was really nervous to go. As I approached the West Hollywood parade, I could feel this powerful presence of love. I remember walking through the crowd of rainbow flags, glittered six-pack abs and yes, a few jockstraps, crying tears of joy. And I rarely cry tears of joy! I’m an emotional person, but usually it’s rare for me to be hysterically crying because I’m so happy. I remember walking through and everyone was pouring out all this love. I felt this overwhelming, powerful feeling of love and acceptance that I’ve never felt before in my entire life. It was magical.

Billie Lee

Blogger & TV Personality, Vanderpump Rules

My first Pride, I was a ball of excitement and nerves. I’m not sure a paragraph is enough for me to tell you how much this first meant to me, but I'll try my best. I had been to Pride before, but this was the first time I would be attending as my recently out and proud queer self. And what better year than last, for the 50th anniversary of Stonewall in New York City. There was an electric kind of energy that vibrated and resonated in everyone, a sense of simultaneous freedom and belonging unlike anything I had ever experienced. The streets were covered in rainbows—it was feathers, lipstick, thongs, dancing, singing, hugging, laughing and crying. It was a colorful festival of emotions, both inside and out. There was a certain vulnerability I could feel all around me, like a secret wink whenever you passed someone by, a sense of recognition in one another, a simple and uniquely humane feeling of ‘I'm with you.’ This experience very much cemented my identity as queer. I had been struggling quite a bit with confused feelings (I still do—it's a long process), but walking down Gay St., holding my girlfriend's hand freely and celebrating the simple fact of existing will be with me the rest of my life. I'm proud to be part of the LGBTQ+ community, and unfortunately I can say that today many who do not have that luxury have to live in fear. I'd love to encourage you to reach out to a friend or some of the helplines (888-843-4564) available. In these difficult times, it's more important than ever to have an emotional support system.

Lorenza Izzo

Actor, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

I was 15 when I walked in my first ball in New York City. I had fallen in love with voguing from my mentor, who gave me a VHS tape of other trans women voguing. As soon as I put the tape in the VCR, I was sucked in. When I went to that first ball, I was gagging. To see all those women in person, it was like seeing my inspirations from that VHS tape live. It was so beautiful. I felt like I belonged there. For my first ball, I wore army pants, a T-shirt and a do-rag. Unfortunately, I got chopped. But I didn't feel too bad because I knew it was way above my standard at the moment. I wasn't ready, but I still went out there. I didn't give up. The next time I competed was a year later. In that year, I practiced and found myself. I started my transition, and that's when I really introduced Leiomy to the world. The thing about the first ball that made me want to keep going was seeing all the different people being celebrated and seeing how passionate they were about showcasing their talents. Right there and then, I knew that this was something I wanted to do.

Leiomy Maldonado

Ballroom Icon & Judge on Legendary

I remember going to a youth Pride festival the first year I was out as a trans person. It was around the time I had picked my chosen name. At the time, I was having doubts that maybe I'd picked the wrong name because it didn't instantly click like how I imagined and romanticized in my head. But then I went to this youth Pride event and was completely immersed in young people who were also trans and shared the same feeling. I remember that was the first day I had the knee-jerk reaction to turn around when someone said ‘Zach’—and it wasn't because it magically clicked or suddenly felt perfect. It was because it was the first day I was given the chance to thoroughly try it out. It was because I was surrounded by people like me. It was because of Pride. Retroactively, I realize that queer people have to do so much research about our own identities, and we can easily learn the idea that there's a right way to be queer. But being at Pride that day, in a safe place with a bunch of other trans kids, I realized everything is a process and even if I decided to change my name in a week or a month or a year, it would be OK, and that I would have people to help me get used to hearing my name. That's how Pride opened up my life—it pushed me to introduce myself to me, with the understanding that I would always be changing and that would always be OK. I'm grateful for that, always.

Zach Barack

Actor, Spider-Man: Far From Home

The first time I went to Pride was in 2013 with my best friend Alfred Lopez. He also has an appearance in Tangerine. The event was Long Beach Pride. I had never seen so many LGBTQ in my life. I was so excited to meet so many new people and make new friends and experience so much. So many different personalities. It was so much fun. My first kiss was horrible. It was so sloppy and wet. I hated it. I thought it was the most horrible experience ever. I first felt a part of the LGBTQ community when I was introduced to the Jeff Griffith Youth Center on Highland. There were so many people similar to me. So many people I could relate to. But even though we were all young kids struggling to find our way through life we stuck together and made the most of our situation. We hooked together like a puzzle to get through hard days together. I was 18 years old and I was terrified. I had already been through so much. I was in the streets and I felt alone until I found the JGYC. When I got around my own people I felt safe and secure and free to be who I want to be. We lifted each other up and supported each other. We taught each other what we knew. So my experience was a good experience because I was surrounded by people who loved me and cared for me. My advice to any young LGBTQ is when you have a good set of friends stick with them. And don’t spend time worrying about things. Put your foot forward to take the first step. Never accept no as an answer. And anything is possible if you be a boss and make it happen. And my last advice is to take care of yourself. You only get one body.

Mya Taylor

Actor, Tangerine and Stage Mother

My friend Mal Blum actually took me to my first Pride when I was 15. I’ll never forget the impact it had on my person, seeing all the love and celebration in the streets! But when I was 17, I got the opportunity to walk in the parade. My friend Grayson Squire and I were both kicked out of boarding school and felt a bit lost. He never witnessed a Pride, so I signed us up to walk with New York’s Hetrick-Martin Institute. This time I wasn’t just witnessing Pride, I was a part of it. Marching and dancing down the streets of NYC with our brothers and sisters, celebrating our lives, our love, our choices—I no longer felt that lost feeling. I knew who I was and what I stood for, and it culminated in marching in my city, arms out and flags up. When I think of Pride, I remember that moment.

Jonny Beauchamp

Actor, Katy Keene

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By Jason Pham

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Bobby Berk, Denver Pride, 1999

Photo: Courtesy of Bobby Berk

Nicole Maines, Los Angeles Pride, 2017

Lorenza Izzo, New York City Pride, 2019

Jonny Beauchamp, New York City Pride, 2007

Design: Cierra Miller

Useless Celebrity History

Pose & American Horror Story

Younger

Queer Eye

Supergirl

Pose

The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn,

To Wong Foo Mrs. Doubtfire,

The Politician

When They See Us

Paris Is Burning.

Schitt’s Creek

Schitt's Creek

Pose

Actor,

Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist

RuPaul's Drag Race.

RuPaul's Drag Race

The Politician

Teen Beach Movie & Hairspray Live!

Singled Out

Vanderpump Rules

Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

Legendary

Spider-Man: Far From Home

Tangerine a Stage Mother

Tangerine

Katy Keene

Alum & Co-Host of

and

Photo: Courtesy of Lorenza Izzo

Photo: Courtesy of Jonny Beauchamp

Photo: Courtesy of Lorenza Izzo

Photo: Courtesy of Nicole Maines

Photo: Courtesy of Lorenza Izzo

Paris is

Burning

The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn,

To Wong

Foo

Mrs. Doubtfire

Schitt's Creek

RuPaul's

Drag Race

attend

march

Tangerine

march

attend

march