I pulled on a bright day-glow yellow blazer early today. Added jeans and boots. “Half winter/ half spring” a friend commented as I passed her walking for my morning coffee. Little did I know Hunger Games chic is a more accurate description as the day progressed.
The back of my workspace north of Boston abuts a wine and cheese shop that proudly displays a gay pride flag. Recently they posted that people have come into the store to complain, citing the flag as an ‘abomination.’ That members of my community have felt emboldened to not only question inclusivity but empowered to openly shun it. I see why it feels like the world is shifting off its axis: I button up the neon jacket, channel Katniss and head to the shop to find the manager.
We agree to hang a pride flag, as bright and big-assed as this town has ever seen, on the side of my building for Pride Day in June. We move on from the hate: if we don’t counter bad behavior with better behavior this will never end. They will hang it for me and I will for sure attend their Pride Festival, maybe even have my face painted.
Understand the message:
All are included here. All are human here. All are loved here.
This is how we heal the wounds of divisive, uneducated leadership.
There will be iced cream and rainbow flags and big smiles. All are invited.
Do what you can, when you can.
Textile art by Emma Giacalone.
Alexandra Dane 