Pride, not prideful

Pride, but not prideful. Proud, but not conceited, Because in 72 countries, I’d be dead or beaten. Pride, because it’s criminal to be who I am in the open, Proud, because I no longer wish I were dead than opened. Pride, because some people hate themselves due to our demonization, Proud, because I allowed myself to take in new information. Pride, because without it we’d be silenced with no trial, Proud, because I am no longer in denial. Pride, because some children bed themselves on concrete, Proud, because I always had my family beside me. Pride, but not prideful. Because we need to remember our fallen. Proud, but not conceited. Because the people who came before me, also paved my way. “The first pride was a riot.” Not because of happiness and celebration, A riot, because walls were shattered, and doors were thrown open. Bricks smashed, glass cluttered, dust clouded in our tears. Our brothers, our sisters, fighting side by side, Hearts and arms intertwined in hope, to outweigh the fear dressed in blue. The blue that was intended to protect, but instead only condemned. Fighting tooth and nail, against their supposed “truth” and close-minded veil. “No straight pride?” Be thankful there isn’t, The rest is simple, if you’d only listen. We have pride, and we are proud, And whether or not you like it, we will never stop being loud.