It's Okay Not to Be Okay This Pride Month—and How to Best Support Your Family

For the past few months, I’ve struggled whenever someone asks me, “How are you?” My new response is: “Well, I woke up this morning.” At first, I expected folks to give me a strange look. But more than ever, most people nod in acknowledgement, or tell me they understand. Over time, I’m growing more comfortable offering that honest response instead of the standard, “I’m good.”

Because the truth is, I’m not okay. This feeling seems to be common amid LGBTQ+ people, especially now that it’s time for Pride Month celebrations. Many of us are struggling to find joy at this moment in history and we’re worried for our families. We want to talk about it, but many of us don’t.

“I think people may be surprised by the amount of support they’d receive if they gave others in their work or social spaces the chance to show up for them,” says Isabelle Lanser, PhD, a licensed clinical psychologist in Los Angeles. “We sometimes don’t realize that saying nothing can make us feel more isolated because people don’t know that we need support and therefore don’t offer it.”

So if you’re hurting, you’re far from alone. The uncertainty is palpable. We’re worried for ourselves, our kids and our families. And you shouldn’t have to put on a brave face. It’s okay to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

Karleigh Webb, a Black transgender woman in Connecticut who volunteers as an operator at a crisis hotline for trans and nonbinary people, says Pride will feel different for her this year. “In the past, it’s always been everybody coming together saying, ‘Love wins.’ ‘We love you.’ And this year, those voices are going to stay silent,” she says.

Kendra N., a new mom in Connecticut, who considers herself pansexual/asexual, echoes this sentiment: “I feel like there’s a little bit more hesitancy around [Pride], in terms of showing your true self.” And having a 5-week-old adds to this disquietude. Kendra says she feels as though the world is a scarier place, especially for kids.

“I just see the world so differently than when I was little and could even play in the front yard without a parent’s 100 percent supervision, or we could walk down to a friend’s house and play,” she says. Looking ahead to her baby’s future in a scary, sometimes hateful world makes her feel particularly weary. She considers, “You have to think of what it’s going to be like in 20 years. Is that a place where you hope that your kid will thrive and can be themselves?”

Kendra’s husband, Thomas, is an out transgender man. “Thomas has his own story that I hope our child gets to learn from the start, and understand that not every family is what the world sees as stereotypical,” Kendra says. Hailing from a conservative town in Ohio, Kendra says her mom has a partner who’s a woman, but that she isn’t out to many people. “They call each other best friends or like roommates or whatever. They’ve been together for a very long time,” she says. Still, she adds, “[My child’s] going to have two grandmas on the one side, and so I’m thankful that I at least have a family unit that’s different from the standard typical. I hope that Aaron keeps his eyes open to the possibility that he can be anybody he wants to be.”

Despite describing herself as “a glass-empty person,” Kendra offers a hopeful view to get through this time: “Each person needs to find their people that can keep them going during these challenging times, whether it be one person, like Thomas has me, or my baby has me. I hope that they can find people who’ll help them be exactly who they want to be and continue to be their unique selves.”

While Pride Month may not feel like a celebration for many this year, it is a symbol of the continued movement in support of LGBTQ+ people. “It may not be the Pride that was,” Webb says, noting that some corporations that previously sponsored Pride events or marketed merchandise have backed away because of backlash over DEI and public opinion polls shifting away from supporting the LGBTQ+ community. “It’ll have more snarl,” she says. “It’ll have more anger. And it’s okay to be angry. That doesn’t make you any less of who you are.”

Webb’s message to the community: “It’s okay to cry if you’re afraid. In fact, being vulnerable in this moment is one of the bravest things you can be right now.” She adds, “Admitting ‘I’m not okay’ is a sign of resistance because you’re aware that, no, ‘I can’t numb up in this time.’ That’s the one thing that the hatemongers want. They want us to deny our humanity. They want us to strip it away. They want us to go back in the closet.”

“Every way that we affirm that we’re human beings and we go out into the world and we laugh and we cry and we dance and we get upset and we affirm our humanity, that’s an act of resistance,” says Webb.

The world may seem heavy and dark right now—and you don’t have to pretend it’s not. It’s okay to not be okay. Accepting this truth is another step forward in your fight for your family and your rights.