i want to go home.

an ode to pride

here’s what nobody told me about pride: everyone wants to go home

everybody wants to set the placards aside, fold the flags, and make their way to their home street. they crave the sound of clattering house keys, and the feeling of taking of their shoes. they want their turn at the couch, at the bath, at the wine.

it is not to say that there is nothing worth fighting for. tomorrow, the day after, and for all that we know, there are people in every street, avenue, and boulevard, who are looking for their turn to live. to shout. we carry history, and history carries the voices of a million people who spoke up, and the bodies of everyone who didn’t. here is now, and there is the tomorrow we draw ourselves towards, in the hopes of growing estranged from today.

everyday, there are people on the roads, on the TV, on stages, in lecture halls, holding the same grounds. speaking for the same cause. standing.

but there is fatigue. there is weariness. exhaustion paints the face. there a strain in the voices. there is an ache in the tendons. it wears you out.

it wears you out.

pride is a protest. we come into the world, part of an insurgence, and eternally rest in memory of it. it is not only a means to take up more space; it is the reaction of generations of people being pushed up against the walls of society. you are not just out on the street, but you are bearing the heat of the sun. and if you ever find yourself straining, aching, or growing tired, you can’t. you need to stand — not just for yourself, but for those around you who have been standing longer than you have.

it’s not coming out, it’s pushing back.

here’s what i couldn’t tell myself about pride: i want to go home.

i don’t want to be a cause. i don’t want to be an advocacy. i don’t want to be an activist. advocacy is unloving. its uncompensated. yes, there is support from others like you, but it doesn’t change the weariness. how it takes out the soul. how we walk home half our weight.

it’s a wonder that anyone at all chooses to stand. chooses to speak. chooses to fight. at the inflation of the economy, radicalization of politics, and the insecurity of society, i would expect everyone to stay calm until further notice. at least, that is the idea that stays at the back of my mind. what if i stay? what if we stay? what if we shut the door, closed the lights, and stay in this room forever?

but there is more, isn’t it?

there is you. you need you.

you need to love. you need to be loved. you need to feel loved. and before any of that, you need to fight for it.

i need to fight for it.

i need to wake up to a day where i can walk the streets, in love, see the world, in love, and walk back home, in love. i need a day where i look like myself, talk like myself, and stand as tall as i always wanted to. i crave a world where i can love loudly, and be, loudly.

as much as the toil for pride is tiring, so is the toil that exists outside of it. imagine turning the lights off. there is more ache in suppression. in restraining your hands. in holding your breath. in sitting still.

your eyes can only do so much as it adjusts to the dark. the room loses color.

i want to go home. i want to go home, so bad. but no one is there anymore. they are outside, pushing back, bearing the sun. wearing themselves out.