http://trueconfessionsofafemalemotorcyclist.files.wordpress.com/2013/06/pride-flags.jpg?w=280&h=300It’s June and everywhere I look rainbow flags adorn city streets and buildings. Such a beautiful reminder how all colors of the rainbow come together to form one community, at least that’s what the rainbow flag means to me.

In June, we, the LGBT citizens, celebrate our history, the heroes that came before us, fighting for society to see us as equal, to see as the same. Because we’re all different in our own special way, either by race, gender, ethnicity, etc. I believe it’s our differences that make us stronger.

I love Pride month, mostly because I love riding with the DC Chapter of Dykes on Bikes. Thousands of fans lining the streets shouting, “Dykes on Bikes,” as we approach. Clapping, cheering, and screaming with excitement. Sure, they’re excited for the rest of the parade, but seeing us means the festivities have begun.

It’s a high like no other, even compared to skydiving, which is pretty tough to beat. For those moments along the route, I feel like a celebrity. Maybe this year I’ll feel cool enough to identify a cute girl to pull out of the crowd along the route to ride on the back of my bike.

But Pride means so much more than parties, parades, and festivals. Pride to me is a reminder of the journey we’re on and the the places we have yet to go. We’re still fighting for DOMA to be repealed and are anxiously waiting the US Supreme Court’s ruling on Prop 8. I’m sure it will be a 5-4 decision, but the question is leaning which way.

http://trueconfessionsofafemalemotorcyclist.files.wordpress.com/2013/06/me-with-the-motorcycle.jpg?w=300&h=218It’s a fight that began not to differentiate us from society, but to point out that we are no different than anyone else. We all love, feel, hurt, cry, ache, yearn, want, dream, desire, and hope. Who I love is only a part of who I am. Being gay doesn’t define me.

I don’t want to be remembered as “the gay girl” simply because I feel that would be neglecting bigger parts of the legacy I want to leave. It would be like saying “that blond girl.” I want to be remembered as a fierce advocate for human rights, generous and kind to friends and strangers, an athlete who truly believed in the power of a team, an animal lover, a survivor, and an adrenaline junkie. Yes I’m gay and yes I have blond hair, but they don’t define who I am.

I’m sure my life experience is shaped by the fact that I’m a masculine looking, white female who is short and is also gay. The fact that I was raised in the south by a family who wasn’t southern in a variety of Christian denominations and have a higher education degree all play a part as well. So when I’m asked about the “gay perspective” I struggle. I can only give my perspective that is shaped by everything I am and everything I’ve been through.

Recently, I wrote a piece for another LGBT publication, but I was told it wasn’t gay enough for Pride month. It was a piece how my men’s 4 and I achieved a first place win at Sunday’s Stonewall Regatta, the only LGBT US Rowing recognized sponsored regatta in the nation. Not to mention the fact that we were all members of one of the only four gay rowing teams in the nation and the event was part of DC Pride. I was offended that I was basically told to “gay it up” or write about Dykes on Bikes instead.

Maybe this is just me, but Pride should also be about celebrating the ground we’ve covered for society to not only see us as LGBT but as one of them. Because we’re all rowers, motorcyclists, skydivers, writers, readers, swimmers, campers, hikers, animal lovers, friends, and family members. I want Pride to be about celebrating the successes of the LGBT movement. Yes, wave our rainbow flags, but let us not be defined by them either.

I am only me. I don’t want to gay it up to fit into someone else’s box. It’s a piece of me, but not the whole me.

You will find me out on Saturday, possibly even wearing my rainbow suspenders. If for no other reason than because they’re awesome, clearly. But I show up, not with the intention of yelling “I am gay, hear me roar,” but to say, I am here and deserve to be counted as equal to you.

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