From Brick to Embrace

A personal reflection on Pride, protest, family and the power of lived experience

Pride means different things to different people. 

For some, Pride is a parade. For some, it is a flag in a window, a chosen name spoken out loud, a hand held in public, or a family found after years of searching. For some, Pride is loud. For others, it is quiet. Some celebrate in the streets. Some celebrate by simply making it through another day as their full selves.

For me, Pride feels like family. 

Not only the family I know by name, but also the ones I have never met, the distant cousins of our community, generations removed from me yet connected by something deeper than blood. I see them in the crowd: the elders who remember when Pride was dangerous, the young people who arrive wrapped in color, the parents learning how to show up, the friends standing shoulder to shoulder, and those still watching from the edges, wondering if there is room for them too. 

Pride answers that question by making room.

Pride Month is a time to celebrate, reflect, and remember. The joy matters. The colors matter. But so does history.  Pride exists because people before us wanted to be seen, heard, and treated with dignity. 

I often think about “the brick”, one of the last symbols associated with the early Pride movement. To me, it represents resilience. Something ordinary became a symbol of people refusing to disappear and demanding to be treated with respect. 

That is where my own voice comes in. 

I still pause when I hear the word “elder” used to describe me. In my mind, I can still feel the younger version of myself learning how to survive, how to speak up and how to find my place. But time has a way of teaching us who we have become. 

Being an elder in this community is not only about age. It is about lived experience. It is about the stories you carry, the people you meet and the lessons you learn along the way. 

Over the years, my voice has grown because my community has shaped it. I have learned by listening. I have learned through conversations with people who needed to be heard. I have shaken hands, held hands and hugged people whose stories became part of me.

This is why I speak. Because there are still people wondering if they belong. 

Sometimes that voice must be strong. Other times, it must be softer. It must welcome, guide, comfort, and make room. Wisdom is learning which voice the moment requires. Pride teaches us that both are needed: the brick and the embrace, the remembrance and the celebration, the memory and the movement. 

Pride today is also a reminder that LGBTQ+ people are part of every community. We are patients, caregivers, colleagues, parents, children, neighbors, leaders, volunteers and friends. 

Those experiences have also shaped how I view my work at Holy Cross Health. Every day, we care for people from different backgrounds, experiences and walks of life. At its best, healthcare is about meeting people where they are, treating them with dignity and recognizing the humanity we all share. 

When I think about Pride, I come back to people. To belonging. To showing up for one another. Those values extend beyond a single month and remind us that every person deserves dignity, compassion, and respect.