By Bianca Ysabelle Dalangin
“Selfie” Sundays. Sundae Sundays. Meet your mother-in-law for the first time Sunday. Call June 8th any kind of Sunday, but on a Sunday that promised the three things I loved the most: dancing people, blasting music, and endless rainbow-filled banners, Sunday, June 8th at 6:45 a.m was considered LA Pride Sunday.
Foreshadowing the never-ending excitement to come, my dad and I drove in our COLAGE float – a colorful, skittle-flavored Tacoma truck filled with rainbow streamers that sproutedout in every direction. We parked our ornate float in the staging area, next to other equally ostentatious floats, with our adrenaline rush flowing quicker than that of a person who drank a thousand Red-Bulls.
Only about an hour later, dedicated members who were also part of our talented COLAGE group poured in with their equally excited allies, and together, we spent the last few hours fine-tuning our what we believed it to be, award-winning float. Just by seeing their elated faces beam against the bright West Hollywood sun, I knew that they were just as ecstatic to march as I, ready to share our pride to the residents of LA County.
Then the music played, and I knew, that in that treasured and shared moment, every other human being in Los Angeles was ready to begin the LA Pride Parade. Our heartbeats, though beating at different tempos, all beat into what seemed like a single melody, singing out the same verse. We marched, chanting “C-O-L, A-G-E! We-love-our-gay-family!” Responses from the audience were barely audible because of the bombastic and sheer extravaganza, but my members and I were able to latch onto the encouraging messages that all told us to keep moving forward.
Then, as if a universal and nurturing parent succeeded into caressing the world, we dived into the calm. Our lively voices hushed into a whisper, a whimper, a pause. We ceased our gait, took a respite, and delved our minds further into retrospective. We remembered the people who fought for justice. We will forever honor those LGBT activists who we now see as our modern day heroes.
We then marched forward. Our voices rose to a deafening yet ecstatic battle cry, and our arms rose higher. We marched with the citizens of the world who challenged the borders of the norm and fought for equal opportunity. And just like that, our hearts came together and beat as one.
We are kids of LGBTQ parents, and we are proud of it.
Photo Credits: Aaron Johnson
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Originally published on The Seattle Lesbian
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