Can anything good come from [Pride Month]?

I’d driven past the gay bar multiple times and was now sitting in my car across the street, mustering up the courage to go in. Despite resolutely making up my mind that I would go, every fiber of my being was second-guessing the decision. It was late afternoon on a Friday, and the Gender and Sexuality Campus Center at UW-Madison was hosting a social event for queer graduate students to give mini-presentations on their thesis projects. It was open to everyone, and as a missionary wanting to build bridges with this community, I thought it might be a good place to start.

Despite only being a social event (only the grad students were there at this hour), I remember the profound discomfort I felt as I walked in, greeted by large, shirtless images plastered on the wall and feeling like I was entering into nothing short of a den of sin. But there I was, I thought, bringing the light and truth of Jesus into this dark place. I didn’t stay long: I arrived late and slipped into the back of the room as I sipped my water-on-the-rocks. Then, as soon as the presentations were over, I bolted. But as I drove back to campus, I couldn’t help but think how sad and empty the people there must be, embracing only a shadow of their true identity.

Now, I’d like you to notice something here. All my emotions and thoughts from that encounter were based on my assumptions. I didn’t even talk to any of these people; at most, I exchanged pleasantries. Is it possible that, when confronted with visuals of minimally-clothed individuals on parade floats during Pride Month, our thoughts of repulsion and condemning words are based more on our assumptions of a caricature than a real understanding of the LGBT community? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not here to pretend like Pride Month is some bastion of traditional Christian values or as if there is nothing to critique, but I am here to say there is more to this month than many Catholics give credit.

The word “Pride” is a point of contention for starters. But pride is a sin! I hear people say. But pride can also meanreasonable self-esteem: confidence and satisfaction in oneself. It’s the reason why we say that we’re proud to be Catholic or proud to be an American. You might still push back, stating there’s a difference between celebrating Catholicism and celebrating a sin (homosexuality), but hold up there. To experience same-sex attraction is not a sin; it’s only when someone acts on it that it becomes sinful. But still, you might be thinking, isn’t it wrong to have an entire month dedicated to something that the Catholic Church declares disordered? Perhaps, but let me try to give a different perspective.

I knew that I was attracted to men starting in junior high, and as a kid who was already involved in his faith, the weight of these temptations sat heavy on my shoulders. I did everything I could to try to get rid of these feelings (even though this isn’t what the Church asks of her children), and when I couldn’t, I became horribly depressed. Suicidal thoughts became a constant companion as I felt trapped between what I felt was a demand to get rid of these feelings and my inability to change. Even though I never acted on my same-sex attractions all through high school and college, my sense of shame only grew.

No matter our cross, our pursuit of holiness should never be accompanied by shame. When I first contemplated coming out, I spent time just sitting with my reality. What did it mean to accept that I was attracted to men and that (most likely) wouldn’t change? As I sat with this question, I saw being gay become less of a burden and more a small part of how God has allowed me to be made, whether that was his active or permissive will. It stopped being something shameful when I realized the fact that I’m attracted to men didn’t seem to bother God nearly as much as it was bothering me. Instead of beating myself up for not being perfect, it became a question of how to pursue holiness amid my imperfections.

I’m proud of this work, this time in prayer, and this reconciliation. I’m proud to be alive; I’m proud I didn’t give up; I’m proud I’ve reached out to people and gotten help; I’m proud that despite those people who have told me that my mere existence as a gay man makes them uncomfortable I am actually comfortable with who I am; I’m proud of the person God has allowed me to become; I’m proud because my journey of trying to understand of why I’m attracted to men has brought out my courage, vulnerability, and profound dependence on God. Yes, I am proud, but I don’t think I’m sinning by accepting my current state in life.

At some point in the next month, I’ll be going out with some friends to dance at my favorite gay bar here in Denver, and we will have a marvelous time. I’ll be surrounded by numerous other queer people, and I think many of us will be celebrating something similar. Not sin and debauchery but a celebration that our lives aren’t ruled by shame anymore and that we can love and accept all of who we are (even the imperfections).

As June unfolds and you’re confronted with rainbows, I’d ask you to pause before speaking against Pride Month as a whole. Listen to people’s thoughts and experiences about Pride; see what it means to them. Jesus came to set us free so that we might learn to love God, love our neighbor, and love ourselves. Perhaps, just perhaps, part of Pride is people experiencing a bit of freedom from shame and learning to love how God has made them. And I think we could all use more of that in our lives.