My husband went to his first Pride parade and celebration over the weekend, and it's been such a whirling dervish around these parts that I hadn't really stopped to think about what a milestone this really was. Aside from lamenting over the fact that we couldn't go together, a common theme and sacrifice in our parental world of nary a babysitter as well as a life that tugs us in a zillion different directions, it wasn't until he was long gone that it really hit me.
Alex is bi, and he's out. He is in the happily-ever-after of living one of his deepest truths.
Pride, is a spot-on sentiment.
I'm so incredibly proud. Even more so, joy-filled, for him. For us.
The implications of Alex being out are a little tricky for us as a married couple, as the conversations aren't as black and white as simply claiming one's own sexual orientation. It's a paradigm shift, and one that also includes our open marriage, potentially taking talks way into the deep end. It makes people a little uncomfortable. It inspires curiosity and questions and I'm sure, a lot of judgement.
Most of the difficulty is in fielding other people's false perceptions and discomfort. For us, it's not really an awkward conversation anymore. We are both more than happy to answer people's questions and set the record straight - telling the truth of our story. But there is a lot of uncomfortable silence to posture around, which is ironically way more tricky to navigate than an awkward conversation.
So I truly understand. Pride and the parade and the waving of the rainbow flags. It's living out loud and in full color - literally and figuratively. It's having a booming voice in an otherwise marginalized conversation and being answered in amplified splendor! Where else can you be showered in rainbows and condoms and even unabashed corporate love? I'm proud, as well, that my city has one of the largest Pride celebrations in the country. Boston, third only to San Francisco and NYC. My humble little puritan town is bold and brave and leans towards love and light. Next year, I will definitely have to go.
And the fact that my mom baked this rainbow cake for Alex touched us both so deeply and was truly the icing on a big celebratory weekend! A huge sugary affirmation and shout of solidarity and love. Was there ever a doubt? Not one iota. But sometimes frosting (and marching bands) can speak louder than words.