Post-Pride Reflections: Leading from Resistance and Resilience: An Inspired Reflection by Chris McLaughlin, MSW, LCSW

(Photo by Jennifer Lynn Photography, June 2025)

As another Pride Month draws to a close, I’m finding myself sitting with a lot of emotions. Some of those feelings are tender, some are heavy, and dare I say it, some are even hopeful. For me, Pride has always been a complicated mix of celebration and contemplation. I wrestle with my need to center Pride as both an act of resistance and one of resilience. It’s a complex balancing act of holding space for both Joy and Grief at the same time. And this year, the whole truth behind these complex emotions has felt especially present and, at times, really overwhelming.

Across the country, we’re witnessing an unsettling surge in anti-LGBTQIA+ rhetoric and policy, especially targeted towards transgender and non-binary youth. Even in a purple state like Maine, attempts to erase trans and non-binary kids from athletics and healthcare have been made (and, fortunately, have failed…for now). The climate around the LGBTQIA+ community is undeniably hostile in many, if not most, spaces. These efforts aren’t just political talking points designed to sway voters and open donor wallets, either. They’re real threats to the safety, well-being, and dignity of the LGBTQIA+ targets of such efforts. And, let me tell y’all something else, they are exhausting too as advocates like myself muster up the strength each and every day to meet the needs of scared, angry, and disheartened queer folx who simply want to live their lives and be left the hell alone.

I’ve been thinking a great deal this month about Charlie Howard, a young gay man whose life was violently taken on July 7, 1984 by three teenage boys here in Bangor, Maine (not even 10 miles from where I sit writing these words) simply for living openly and authentically. Charlie’s murder was a heartbreaking moment in our city’s history, and it shook the queer community to its core. Having grown up just 15 minutes from Bangor, I remember hearing the news of Charlie’s death. Even at just 9 years old, I also remember the cruel jokes and punchlines (just ask someone who grew up in Bangor during the mid-80’s to tell you the alternative name of the Downtown Bangor bridge that Charlie was thrown from after he had been beaten by these three boys, and you’ll get a sampling of what I mean), the hushed voices and whispers whenever Charlie’s name was mentioned, and the deep sense of shame that surrounded the secret that I had been starting to discover about my own sexuality. Charlie’s story has since become a powerful reminder of why Pride matters and why visibility, safety, and justice for all also matters. As the 41^st anniversary of Charlie’s death approaches, I cannot help but wonder if the world Charlie left behind far too young is really any better today than it was back in ’84. While his legacy will live on in every step we take toward equity, every space we create for Queer Joy, and every act of resistance we engage in against the systems and ideologies that seek to erase us, have we yet made the progress forward that could have prevented the hate, intolerance, ignorance, and complete lack of empathy that caused Charlie’s death?  I choose to honor Charlie not just in remembrance of his death, but in our ongoing commitment to continue to build a world where no one’s authenticity is ever met with violence. While we may still have a long way to go in this work, as I sit in reflection of this past month, there’s no doubt that, yes. We HAVE made progress….

June also marks the 10^th anniversary of the Obergefell decision, the landmark Supreme Court ruling that guaranteed same-sex couples the constitutional right to marry. My husband and I got to meet Jim Obergefell just last month in Sonoma County when we had the great honor of tasting wines at Equality Vines where Jim is part owner. Jim has a great heart, great taste in wine, and a great smile, and you can’t help but feel welcome in his presence. As we watch the assault on the LGBTQIA+ community continue to escalate here in the United States, it’s only natural to wonder what might next happen to the hard fought right to marry the person you love, regardless of sex or gender. Will the Obergefell decision continue to be the established law of the land, or might we see another reversal of such settled law as we did in the Roe decision earlier this year?

So many questions, so little time….

But if there’s one thing I have come to know about our community, it’s that we are resilient!

This Pride Month, even under pressure (and lots of rainy weekends here in Maine), we showed up. We danced in the streets. We spoke truth to power. We mourned those we’ve lost and lifted up the next generation of queer advocates. We reminded the world that queer and trans people exist in every zip code, in every profession, in every part of society, and we’re not going anywhere.

We also reminded ourselves that Queer Joy is sacred. That laughter, art, community, love, and self-expression are not luxuries. They are lifelines. They are acts of resistance, plain and simple. And they are proof that even when the systems around us try to silence or shame us, we are still here. We are whole, we are worthy, and we are unapologetically alive.

But it’s important to say this too: Pride doesn’t erase the pain. It doesn’t solve policy failures or take away the daily stress so many of us carry. Pride alone doesn’t fix the systems we’re still pushing to change. But it does give us a moment to remember what we're fighting for and who we’re fighting alongside.

As we move beyond the rainbow filters on our collective social media profiles, I invite us all to hold on to the deeper truths of Pride, the ones that go forward after the confetti has fallen and the fabulous drag queens have packed up their gowns. The truths that I’m talking about are the ones rooted in liberation and not marked by a turn of the calendar. These are the truths forged by elders who risked everything to claim spaces decades ago, and the truths still being written today by youth demanding something better.

My plea for the months ahead is to keep doing the work. To keep speaking up and showing up for ourselves, for each other, and especially for those whose voices are still being silenced. To building communities where belonging is not up for debate.

But also, please, let’s keep laughing. Let’s keep dancing. Let’s keep falling in love with ourselves and each other. Let’s keep making art and telling stories and wearing things that make us feel like our truest selves. Let’s keep practicing queer joy like it’s our birthright—because it is.

Even in the face of harm, our community is a source of radical beauty and courage. Even when it’s hard, we don’t give up on one another. And even when the world tries to make us feel small, we continue to shine. This is all about being a part of the Resistance AND the Resilience. It’s about balancing that which we must resist and what we must rebuild.

Pride may be over according to the calendar. But the spirit of it? That doesn’t get boxed up and stored away. Not ever! We carry it with us every day, in every act of truth-telling, care, and defiance. We give life to the spirit of Pride every time we pause to say the name Charlie Howard, not in hushed whispers but in loud defiance of hate, bigotry, and ignorance.

Because the fight must continue.
And so must the collection of Queer Joy.

In community,

Chris McLaughlin, MSW, LCSW
Owner & Lead Consultant
Inspired Consulting Group, LLC