Pride Is a Lifeline: Remembering We Are Gold Beneath the Mud

I have been thinking a lot about how Pride is more than a parade. More than flags and celebration. More than sparkle and sweat and music in the streets. For some of us, Pride is survival. And in many cases, it is a form of suicide prevention.

Because when you are told directly or silently that your truth is too loud, your love is too strange, your gender is too much, or that your body does not belong… sometimes the only thing keeping you here is the reminder that you do belong. Somewhere. To someone. To yourself.

I lost a friend not too long ago. She was better than gold. Shining even when she did not know it. She was evergreen. Her presence did not dim with time or season. But I wish I could have told her a story before she left:

During a time of war, a family hid their solid gold Buddha statue by covering it in mud. They did it to protect it from invading soldiers. Over the years, people forgot what was underneath, and the statue stood that way for generations. Mud-caked. Unremarkable. Until one day, a crack revealed the gleam beneath. What was once hidden was still there, just waiting.

We are that gold. Even when we forget. Even when the world covers us in its own fears, its shame, its expectations. Even when we hide ourselves to survive.

That is why Pride matters.

Pride says you do not have to stay hidden. Pride says you are still gold, still evergreen, still here. Pride says even if the world told you otherwise, you are worth staying alive for.

Sometimes Pride is a party. But often, it is a lifeline. A space where people find themselves reflected. A time when we feel less alone in our stories, our colors, our contradictions.

As a queer and neurodivergent person, I know what it is like to feel invisible and too visible at the same time. I know what it is like to navigate systems and spaces that were not built for me. But I also know the power of being witnessed. Of being named. Of being celebrated, not just tolerated.

That is what I try to do in my work, in my art, in my community. To hold up a mirror so others can see their gold again.

So this Pride, whether you are dancing in the streets or quietly reclaiming your worth at home, remember: you are not alone. You never were. The gold is still there, waiting to be seen. And you, just as you are, might be someone’s reason to stay.

Because Pride is not just about being out. It is about staying here.