When I first admitted that I was bisexual, my attention was focused almost entirely on myself. Not out of selfishness, but survival. I was trying to understand who I was, what it meant for my faith, and whether there was a future for someone like me. For a long time, those questions felt deeply personal.

In time I came to learn that I was part of a bigger story. Pride has demanded that I see my own experience as part of something larger. It has pushed me beyond my own journey and into relationship with people whose experiences overlap with mine in some ways and differ dramatically in others. Being part of the 2SLGBTQIA+ community has taught me that solidarity is not built by assuming our stories are the same. It is built by recognizing that they are connected.

That has not always been easy. Speaking publicly about 2SLGBTQIA+ inclusion cost me my career, my community, and financial security. I do not say that for sympathy. Many people have paid far higher prices than I have. I say it because there is a difference between believing something privately and speaking it publicly when you know there will be consequences. Pride has repeatedly confronted me with that difference.

The longer I do this work, the less interested I become in whether my own story is fully understood. The question that keeps returning is what I am willing to do with it. Pride continues to call me beyond my own experience and beyond my own comfort. It reminds me that whatever I have learned through my own journey belongs, in part, to others. That demand has never really gone away.