Aphrodite Was At Pride
She was marching with the lesbians, decked in shades of pink and “my girlfriend doesn’t know I’m a lesbian” shirt. They all lock arms, laughing, sweaty and covered in body paint and glitter, and her eyes tear up as her heart swells at the sight of all these girls supporting one another.
She was with the POC group, fist raised in the air chanting “Black Lives Matter” until her throat was raw. She can’t help but notice the dirty looks and the racist comments, but they only fuel her onward, she will not stand idly by as lives are consumed by hatred and ignorance.
She was with the bisexuals, a blue pink and purple flag waving behind her. She leads the charge, music blasting behind her, her presence larger than life. Their love will not be unheard or erased, not today.
She was with the trans men, reminding those who need it to take a break from their binders every couple hours, and to take a good stretch too. Pride is exciting and nerve wracking, and sometimes people forget to take care of themselves.
She was with the trans women, coordinating the flag carriers. Some of them have become confident in their identity, but others are still trying to find their footing. She beams at them, lovingly welcoming them to the sisterhood.
She was with the pansexual’s, tossing confetti into the air and laughing as children run to catch it. Love exists every where, and is open to everyone, and she is happy to remind the world of that.
She was with asexual’s and aromantic’s, because love exists outside of sex or romance. The young boy walking beside her is clearly nervous, so she bumps his shoulder and reminds him that he’s among friends, and his smile becomes a little more genuine.
She was with the gay men, watching as an anxious couple leans into each other, foreheads touching as they take a few deep breaths. Their hands intertwine and together they bravely move to join the rest of the group for their first pride. She can’t help but be proud of how far they’ve come.
She was with the ally’s, rainbows painted on her cheeks. Some carry pictures and LED candles, memorials to their LGBT loved ones who were no longer alive to celebrate with. She comforts them in their grief, reminding them that through their love their loved ones live on.
She was with the elderly, pushing an elderly woman’s wheelchair. Excitement buzzes through the group, some of whom have known her glow for nearly a century, while others are just now getting the chance to explore it.
She was with the nonbinary’s, handing out pamphlets about gender identity, expression and the importance of respecting people’s pronouns. Colourful beads hang from her neck and wrists, adding to the festive feel.
Aphrodite was at Pride. She was there, reminding everyone to be loud and proud, because love, peace and acceptance were worth it. She was there, shouting to the heavens the simple truth that love belonged to everyone.
Aphrodite was with the disabled folx who watched from the sidelines because marching was exhausting or painful or loud. She’d seen that look in her husband’s eyes when he felt excluded. She reminded them they were enough by just being there and bolstered their feeling of belonging.
