An anonymous testimonial from a Pride attendee & client of the Sacramento LGBT Community Center: 

“I know you want to share my experience with your friends at the LGBTQ Center, so here is my best try at writing it out.

I don’t really know how to explain what Pride did for me without sounding dramatic, but I’ll try. I wasn’t doing well when I went. My parents kicked me out and it was hard. I’m still mad I told them in the first place. I had been bouncing around for a while, staying with people when I could, pretending things were more stable than they were. I was tired. Not jut physically tired, but tired of explaining myself. Tired of trying to be okay. Tired of feeling like every room I walked into had already decided something about me. 

I went to Pride alone.

That part still feels a little embarrassing to say. I remember walking around and feeling like everyone else had friends, or a partner, or a group, or some reason to be there. I didn’t really have any of that. I think I just wanted to be somewhere where being queer or gay or whatever wasn’t the problem.

I didn’t talk to a lot of people at first. I mostly walked around and watched.
There were people laughing. People dancing badly. People helping strangers. People checking on each other. Older queer people who looked like they had lived whole lives and somehow made it through. Young people dressed exactly how they wanted. Trans people being celebrated instead of talked badly about. Families. Drag queens. Volunteers. People just existing out loud.

I know that probably sounds simple, but it hit me harder than I expected.
At one point, someone at a table asked if I was doing okay. Not in a fake way. Just a normal, kind way. I think I said somehing like, “Yeah, I’m fine,” because that’s what you say when you’re absolutely not fine.

They gave me information about the Center and said I could come by. No pressure. No big speech. Just, “There are people there who can help.”

I kept the flyer.

A few days later, I went in.

I was nervous. I remember sitting there thinking I was going to be judged, or told I didn’t qualify, or that my situation wasn’t serious enough. But that didn’t happen. A lady greeted me and sat with me and asked what I needed first.
That question really took me off guard. Not “what’s wrong with you?” Not “how did you end up here?” Just, “what do you need first?”

I needed food. I needed a safer place to sleep. I needed help looking for work. I needed to not feel like I was disappearing. They helped me with what they could. It wasn’t magic. I didn’t suddenly have my life together. I still had bad days. I still missed calls. I still got overwhelmed. But I had somewhere to go back to. I had people who remembered my name.

Eventually, I found housing. Then I found a job. Little by little, I started feeling like a person again.
I think people see Pride and think it’s just a big celebration. And it is. But for me, it was also the first time in a long time that I thought, maybe I’m not supposed to disappear. Maybe there are people who would notice. Maybe there is still a life for me.

I found the Center because of Pride. And I don’t say this lightly: I’m not sure I would still be here if I hadn’t.”