#kinksters continue being our only true and continued supporters

[biosblades]

I went to pride at 11. I wasn’t even out yet, but I definitely did feel a distinct kinship with the people there. I saw what I know now in hindsight was kink attire. I won’t lie, I was a very naive 11 yo. I had never so much as stumbled upon porn and my knowledge of sex was limited to what they taught me about puberty in 5th grade (and this is America, they separated the boys and girls, so I only knew about one side of the equation). I loved the cool costumes some people were wearing and I didn’t even think to sexualize nudity yet. My innocence was left perfectly intact and I got the opportunity to meet some people from my community. They were all super nice to me, and I left with the feeling that if I grew up to be like them there would be an accepting place waiting for me.

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

I went to pride again at 16. This time I understood what kink was. Some of it did make me uncomfortable, so I simply looked the other way instead of trying to police people IN THEIR OWN SPACE. I loved it and had a great time overall. And no, seeing leather/sexy drag/little clothing/etc did not scar me for life I was FINE. I knew I was queer this time, but I wasn’t quite there yet myself. I felt so brave wearing a single rainbow bracelet (and that was okay too; people accepted my timidness, they were encouraging, they complemented my tiny little bracelet, and they gave me space when I did look overwhelmed/uncomfortable). I left knowing that no matter how I chose to express myself one day I would have an accepting place to do so.

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

I went to pride again at 19. There were cops everywhere. I couldn’t go to most of the events because they were age restricted to 21+. Even still, I could tell the people there were not as carefree and open as they were in the past. Both times before, I was able to make a choice for myself on how to engage based on my own comfort level. I was barely even a child this time, but there was no place for me. That choice had been taken away. The adults were having a bad time because they couldn’t be themselves, and the kids were having a bad time because a bunch of conservative adults had made the choice for us that we couldn’t handle it and therefore we weren’t allowed. I knew I could handle it because I had done so before. And by this point in my life I was visibly, undeniably queer. I felt way safer with the pups and the sexy drag queens, the harness-and-nothing-else-clad leather daddies and the shirtless butches than I felt around the pearl-clutching school board members and church goers who screamed to protect the children. I was still in the school system they were purging of books, but I was also a legal adult and I knew damn well that they meant to protect the “children” from me. I had seen the rise of homophobia and the way people were governed by disgust in school, politics, and online, but I didn’t realize that they’d sunk in so deep that it would actually change pride.

I left feeling scared that this place I grew up thinking would always be there to accept me didn’t exist anymore

“But I didn’t consent to see kink” yes you did by coming to pride,

a place you know and have repeatedly said you know kink is at, a place built by kinky people, the mother of pride Brenda Howard was a queer kinky polyamorous sex positive anti war bisexual Jew and to try and remove its history or sanitise it is is spitting on her grave, you are consenting by choosing to go there