The struggle that produced Pride
Before Pride was about celebration, it was about protest. It was, and still is, about human dignity refusing to cower in the face of hateful opposition. It has taken on weightier relevance today, with the institutional silencing of LGBTQ history and the concerted targeting of transgender people and drag performers.
Like that of many big cities, the history of Chicago features major mile markers in the movement for acceptance and enfranchisement. It was here where the first gay rights organization in the United States was founded, by Chicagoan Henry Gerber in 1924.
But the most potent decades in the LGBTQ community's fight in Chicago came in the 1970s and '80s, with the early years of the AIDS crisis and the Stonewall riots in New York serving as major catalysts for the urgency of queer Americans to be seen as human. Advocacy, including from Mayor Harold Washington, and pressure from activists led the Chicago City Council to pass the Human Rights Ordinance in 1988 and include sexual orientation in prohibiting discrimination in employment, housing and public accommodation. It was a watershed moment in the city's history because it granted queer Chicagoans equality under the law.
These photos of the struggle for equality and justice, curated by Vintage Tribune editor Marianne Mather, depict the passion and persistence of everyday Chicagoans.
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Black America Web
4 hours ago
- Black America Web
Queer And Trans People Didn't Survive Pride To Be Erased By The Supreme Court
Source: UCG / Getty When I was a kid, I never saw myself in the classroom. Not in the books we read. Not in the stories my teachers told. Not in the lessons about families, love, or community. As a Black queer boy, I learned early what it meant to be invisible — to grow up surrounded by silences so heavy they shape how you see yourself and what you believe is possible. So, decades later, as an attorney, when I read the Supreme Court's ruling in Mahmoud v. Taylor this Pride Month — a decision that makes it easier for parents to pull their kids out of public school lessons about LGBTQ+ people — I felt that old ache all over again. And I know I'm not alone. In a 6–3 decision, the court sided with families in Maryland who claimed their 'sincerely held religious beliefs' gave them the right to opt their children out of any lesson that even mentions LGBTQ+ people or families. The lessons weren't graphic sex ed or 'adult content.' They were basic, age-appropriate stories acknowledging that queer and trans people exist. That our families are real. That our lives matter. Apparently, to this court, our existence is optional. Let's be clear about what this means. Public schools are supposed to be one of the few places where young people learn about communities, cultures, and people different from their own. That's not radical; that's the promise of public education. It's not 'indoctrination' to tell the truth. It's not radical to say that queer and trans people exist, have always existed, and deserve to be part of the full story. For so many kids — especially those who grow up in families or communities where being LGBTQ+ is condemned or erased — the classroom may be the only place they learn that they're not alone. I didn't have that. I remember scanning my school library shelves for someone — anyone — who looked or loved like me. Nothing. No stories about Black queer boys trying to figure themselves out. No characters who felt like a permission slip to dream a bigger life. That void shapes you. It makes you feel like you're the problem, like your existence is something that should be edited out. Source: Jacob Wackerhausen / Getty And what about the kids who aren't queer or trans? They deserve the truth, too. They deserve an education that reflects the full, messy, beautiful reality of the world, not a version scrubbed clean to keep some parents comfortable in their prejudice. When you opt kids out of reality, you're teaching them that LGBTQ+ people are a threat or taboo, instead of neighbors, classmates, and family. So, no — don't call this 'religious freedom.' True religious liberty means we each get to believe — and exist — without erasing each other's humanity. Bigotry wrapped in the language of faith is still bigotry. And it has no place in a public school that's supposed to serve everyone. It's not lost on me that this decision came down in the final days of June, when the Supreme Court often releases its most controversial rulings. But for LGBTQ+ people, that timing stings even more because June is Pride Month: a time when we're supposed to be louder about our stories, our survival, and our joy. Instead, we're forced to watch the highest court in the country hand bigots a permission slip to pretend we don't exist. This isn't just about one family in Maryland — it's part of a much bigger, coordinated backlash. From book bans to 'Don't Say Gay' laws to curriculum censorship, the goal is the same: erase us from public life until there's no evidence we were ever here. But we were. And we are. And we're not going anywhere. For the queer and trans students sitting in classrooms right now, representation shouldn't feel like a privilege. Every young person deserves to see their whole self reflected in their education. Teachers should be able to say the word 'gay' or 'trans' without fearing a lawsuit. School shelves should hold books that tell stories kids can see themselves in — and ones that open doors they didn't even know they could walk through. Feeling seen should be the baseline, not the exception. Telling young people the truth about the world gives them a chance to grow up whole, to see difference not as danger but as part of what makes life richer and more beautiful. This ruling insults that vision, and every student who needs to know they belong. Source: UCG / Getty But this moment can't only be about despair. Anger can be useful when it fuels action. There are ways to push back: show up at local school board meetings when books and inclusive curricula are under attack. Run for those school boards if possible. Support groups fighting censorship and curriculum bans — organizations like GLSEN, PFLAG, the ACLU, or local queer youth alliances doing the work every day. Talk with the young people at home and in the community — remind them they are loved exactly as they are. Even small acts matter. Check that the local library includes queer and trans books on its shelves — and donate some if they're missing. Advocacy isn't always about giant national fights — it's about what happens in classrooms, libraries, and school board meetings in our own backyard. The same places where erasure happens are the same places where we can show up, speak up, and refuse to disappear. I keep thinking about that little Black queer kid I once was. How different it could have been if I'd seen myself on the page. How many years it might have saved me from believing I was the problem. There's a generation of young people right now who don't have time for that shame. They're bolder. They're fighting back. They remind me why we keep showing up for each other. Pride has never been just about rainbow flags and parades. It's about resistance — about refusing to disappear, no matter how many people wish we would. They can ban our stories, but they can't ban us. They can try to silence our teachers, pull our books off shelves, and rewrite the curriculum — but they can't erase our existence, our history, or our future. We didn't survive this long just to be edited out of a lesson plan. We survived to be seen, to be heard, to keep showing up for each other — Pride Month and every month. And we will. Preston Mitchum is the founder of PDM Consulting, based in Washington, D.C. His work focuses on racial justice, gender equity, LGBTQ+ liberation, and the pursuit of policies that move beyond symbolism to create lasting change. SEE ALSO: Pride Is Still Protest: World Pride In The Era Of Trump 2.0 Op-Ed: Bowser Gave Up The Mural. We Can't Give Up The Movement SEE ALSO Queer And Trans People Didn't Survive Pride To Be Erased By The Supreme Court was originally published on
Yahoo
4 hours ago
- Yahoo
'God bless this country.' Calgary residents reflect on how Canada Day feels different
Canada Day feels a little different this year to many Calgary residents. CBC News created a pop-up speakers' corner at the Seton library branch in south Calgary last week. When we asked library patrons how they were feeling, the most common response was one of pride. Christine Griffith said she's heading into Canada Day remembering the sense of unity that came in the wake of U.S. President Donald Trump's tariffs. "Just seeing everyone really come together and support Canadians, and buy Canadian, just seeing that pride. It felt really good," she said. Griffith is an artist and stay-at-home mom. For her, Canada Day has always been a time for family — BBQs and fireworks while growing up in Ontario. Now she's trying to share that with her daughter by teaching her the national anthem and continuing to be conscientious about Canadian brands as she shops. "I think it's still strong," she said. "We keep it strong in our family." CBC News spoke with dozens of people at the library, inviting them to write their thoughts for a public display and talk through what's influencing those feelings. Several people talked about the tariffs and how they are still expressing their support for Canada by buying Canadian whenever possible. For others, world events were top of mind — the tariff threats or the conflicts in Ukraine, Gaza and recently Iran. In light of these, some patrons spoke about being grateful for security and peace in Canada. Natali Maxwell is a Canadian who is originally from Peru. She said for her, the wars and also economic challenges here at home are weighing heavily and make this Canada Day feel different. "People are fighting for a piece of land.… People are fighting for a lot of things. There's no more love," she said. "But Canada is a strong country. If we stay united, everything will be good. It's just, God bless this country. I'm praying." For Madelene Bustard, provincial politics were top of mind and are making this Canada Day emotional for her. "Canada Day is feeling very different to me this year," she said. "I have grave concerns about [Premier] Danielle Smith and her sparking this separation talk. I find it gross and not in our best interest." "I feel like it's going to be the most emotional Canada Day I've ever had. Like, I have a military family and like I've always been such a proud Canadian. But now, I don't want my boys in the military. I don't know what's going on in this world. And I feel like if we separate, that's just going to put us more at risk of what's going on in the world." There were others with conflicted feelings around Canada Day, for both personal and political reasons. One woman wrote about the memories she has celebrating with her daughter and grandchildren, which are especially poignant this year because they recently moved away. A new immigrant wrote about celebrating his first Canada Day, and a man who immigrated more than a decade ago from the Philippines wrote about Canada being a place of both joy and struggle. He retired recently, he told CBC, but can't actually retire. He's still driving for a delivery app on the side. "Canada Day is good and not so," he wrote. "Overall Canada is a good place to live. Happy Canada Day." A woman said she doesn't celebrate Canada Day because she really wants to see more progress toward truth and reconciliation with Indigenous communities first. Several others said the cost of living, especially since the pandemic hit, makes life much harder and makes it more difficult to feel like celebrating. Jonathan MacDonald grew up in a small, close-knit community in the Maritimes. He said he feels like the country has grown and changed. Immigration has brought diversity but also, he feels, isolation and he doesn't feel the same shared understanding and togetherness that he did before. Others had more straight-forward emotions around Canada Day. Several kids wrote about Stampede breakfasts and drew pictures of fireworks. One man wrote "fly your flag" and said he made a special effort this year to buy flags early and do just that. Michelle Anderson was listening to CBC's live updates from Seton on The Homestretch and knew this pop-up was at Seton. She stopped in and said reading all these notes made her think about when her dad moved the family here from Ireland 40 years ago. She sat down to write her thoughts: "Canada is a short word with a long meaning — hope, friends, health, open spaces, joy, pride and peace." Then after a bit, she came back to add: "Home is also a word that is short with a long meaning."
Axios
5 hours ago
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CPS crisis revives sensitive school closure talk
Interim CPS CEO Macqueline King adjusted the district's deficit last week to $734 million, $200 million more than her predecessor Pedro Maritnez estimated. Why it matters: It means deeper cuts or more borrowing for the nation's fourth-largest school system, one already facing financial trouble and staff shortages. The big picture: The increased deficit is driven by King's willingness to take on the $175 million non-teacher pension payment that has traditionally been paid by the city and Martinez refused to shoulder. The latest: Late Friday afternoon, CPS announced it was laying off 161 employees, including 87 crossing guards, and cutting 209 open positions. The intrigue: Despite the need for savings, officials have avoided closing half-empty schools, a sensitive issue that Chalkbeat Chicago and ProPublica explored last month. By the numbers: CPS enrollment has dropped from 402,000 in 2010 to about 324,000 today in 634 schools. About 150 of those schools are half empty and 47 operate at less than one-third capacity, according to the Chalkbeat analysis. While CPS spends an average of $18,700 per student, severely underenrolled Douglass Academy spends $93,000 per pupil while offering a very limited selection of courses. The investigation suggests CPS could save millions by closing or consolidating many of these schools. Friction point: Former Mayor Rahm Emanuel's closure of 50 schools in 2013 displaced thousands of low-income kids from local schools and became seen as a generational tragedy in some circles. The prospect of new closures has become so radioactive that no progressive leader — especially former Chicago Teachers Union staffer Mayor Brandon Johnson — is likely to broach the idea. What they're saying:"Our footprint is too large," Martinez told Chalkbeat before he left his job as CEO last month. "Every time somebody wants to address this issue, you see at all levels of politics, nobody wants to do it." "Now that Chicagoans have elected school board members, there are opportunities for communities and their elected representatives to think about school enrollment patterns and the district's building infrastructure together and plan around both in ways that provide great school experiences for students," Chalkbeat Chicago bureau chief Becky Vevea tells Axios. The other side: CTU vice president Jackson Potter told Chalkbeat that union officials oppose closures because they predict the city's progressive policies will draw new residents and students. They also oppose them because the previous closures were done without stakeholder input. What's next: CPS' closure moratorium lifts in January 2027, and at least one board member wants to be ready.
