There is an immense amount of beauty that radiates around the month of June.
June is a time that holds the weight of memory and the light of celebration. As a Black queer woman, June is not just another page on the calendar—it is a deeply powerful reminder of identity, resilience, and joy that refuses to be silenced. It is a month of dual truth: the sobering history that shaped us, and the radiant pride that sustains us through and through.
Juneteenth not only commemorates the emancipation of enslaved people, but it also signifies hope burning brighter than it ever could have. Juneteenth allows us to reflect on how far we have come—how far we still need to go. It allows us to seek the deeper truths of who we are and know the terrors our ancestors had to endure—terrors that we can’t have swept under the rug in a poorly concealed way of attempting to rewrite our history. During this time, it is imperative that we learn our history, our culture, and how our people resiliently fought. Fights that many are trying to cover up or ignore. Fights that still burn fiercely in our minds and souls to this day. We are one—in mind, body, and bright spirits.
The legacy of Juneteenth is not just about survival—it’s about defiance. It’s about unlearning the myths we’ve been taught and reclaiming the narratives that were stolen from us. It is about honoring our ancestors’ joy, their pain, their brilliance, and their bravery. It’s about teaching our communities and ourselves that freedom was not given—it was demanded, fought for, bled for.
And alongside that truth runs another: Pride.
Pride is power. Pride is beautiful. Pride is community.
Pride is for those who had the courage—and still have the courage—to live freely and beautifully. Pride is for those who can express their true selves. Pride is for those still discovering themselves. Pride is for those who can’t live outwardly currently. Pride is for those being proud of us. Pride is for everyone.
To have so much love, visibility, and unity within the queer community is not something that should be taken lightly. It is an honor. It is a necessity. Because through the hardest times—through the hatred, through the tears, through the barriers that rise over and over again—our unity and warmth hold us together.
This month, I hold space for my ancestors who could not imagine this freedom. I hold space for those living now who still can’t access it. I hold space for myself—for the intersection of my Blackness and my queerness—and I refuse to dim either one.
June is for us. Juneteenth and Pride are not separate—they are connected through a shared legacy of resistance and a shared future of hope.
We are still here. As one.
To the warmest of feelings,
Breanna
