Pride Month is over. The rainbows in store windows and on garish socks have been cleared. This year, like the others before it, there was a robust debate about the commercialization of Pride — whether it’s a parade or march or both — in fact, each year these tensions are the perfect kickoff to Pride. But I am interested in the time after Pride; what happens when our designated month is over. I am calling for the institution of Pride resolutions. Each year at the end of June, we should all make a pledge to our queerness, a pact with our community, and over the next 12 months in good faith intend to fulfill it. It may be challenging like all those things we promise ourselves on New Year’s — How many new gym memberships go unused by March? How many cigarettes still lit? — but one way to reclaim Pride from the commercialization and frivolity is to turn it toward good for our community and for ourselves.
By making a Pride resolution, we will be expanding and expending our pride beyond just the confines of June, and we will see and feel how much our queerness enhances our lives daily.
Since it is the inauguration of Pride resolutions, below are some examples to choose from or to help spark your own.
I resolve to help fight every heinous anti-LGBTQ+ bill everywhere (this year over 250 have been introduced in state legislatures).
I resolve to take the first step toward a 12-step program.
I resolve to read LGBTQ+ journalists so I get news about us from us.
I resolve to shop at LGBTQ-owned and -operated businesses.
I resolve to socialize in LGBTQ+ spaces.
I resolve to turn from LGBTQ+ ally to LGBTQ+ advocate.
I resolve to make one friend outside my own identity.
I resolve to help start a GSA at my school.
I resolve to take care of myself and my partners.
I resolve to bring my queerness to bear on everything I do.
I resolve to start therapy and set aside the shame others have placed upon me.
I resolve to be kind on hookup apps and not treat everyone like they are expendable.
I resolve to not treat myself as expendable.
I resolve to learn LGBTQ+ history, not as homework, but to understand the long line of extraordinary individuals that I am among.
I resolve to read queer books, watch queer movies, and expose myself to queer artists so I can see myself in the entertainment I consume.
I resolve to ask for help.
I resolve to come out to at least one person if I’m ready.
I resolve to join one LGBTQ+ service organization.
I resolve to work to get my local schools to teach LGBTQ+ history.
I resolve to work to get my local schools to teach inclusive sex ed.
I resolve to ask people their pronouns.
I resolve to help more people to learn about PrEP.
I resolve to not let the government or drug companies off the hook on finding a vaccine for HIV.
I resolve to listen to and amplify the voices of our most vulnerable.
I resolve to care for and about our long-term survivors.
I resolve not to minimize or diminish my queerness in order to go along to get along.
I resolve to make LGBTQ+ issues central to how I choose a candidate.
I resolve to run for office.
I resolve to stop my company’s pinkwashing.
I resolve to raise my LGBTQ+ child to understand that their queerness is their superpower.
I resolve to understand I am a stakeholder to everything that happens to all LGBTQ+ people everywhere.
I resolve not to measure myself against images I see online.
I resolve to treat myself kindly.
I resolve to treat others kindly.
I resolve to enjoy sex.
I resolve to try to be intimate.
I resolve to risk my heart and love.
I resolve to allow myself to be loved.
Richie Jackson is the author of Gay Like Me: A Father Writes to His Son, published by HarperCollins. He is an award-winning Broadway, television, and film producer who most recently produced the Tony Award-nominated Harvey Fierstein’s Torch Song on Broadway. He executive produced Showtime’s Nurse Jackie for seven seasons and co-executive produced the film Shortbus, written and directed by John Cameron Mitchell. He and his husband, Jordan Roth, live in New York City with their two sons.