This year I did not dance till my feet turned blue. I did not go out after. I did not stay the whole day. I did not drink. I did not volunteer. I did not go both days. Part of me feels like I didn't get the whole experience. Dancing until my feet are buried feels like it honors the people before me that marched until thier feet were bloody to get basic rights. Rights that we now take for granted and the pain reminds me this isn't a party it's a riot. I go out after to celebrate and eat and just to keep the feelings of camaraderie going. I don't want to let go of that feeling of community. I didn't drink becuase I couldn't for unrelated reasons. I didn't volunteer becuase I didn't have the time this year. Working in DC and then traveling means I don't have the time for my Chicago projects. I do feel an emptines from doing it "wrong". I did see my friends I did bond with new friends. I still felt like I belonged and suprisingly I felt safe. With my whole community around me I felt safe and comfortable. There was still a lot of sadness since it's only been a week after Orlando. However we were happy and dancing. To be able to carry on showed me the resilience of each and every one of us has. A resilience I didn't know I had. This weekend was not what it should have been but it was exactly what I needed. I haven't been in a queer space not focused on Orlando since it happened and to get up and try to return to normal was a big step. I am going to try to do better next we at San Francisco pride but this was a good first step.
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