Pride Month is in full, fabulous swing and baby, I am feeling it in my heels, my lashes, and my spirit. Rehoboth has been buzzing with joy, with backyard drag, rainbow everything, and so much queer energy the town might just float off into the sky like a glitter balloon.
But this past weekend, I left our beach bubble and took the Amtrak of love to the nation’s capital for the World Pride Music Festival in Washington, D.C. I packed a fan, a few backup outfits, and an emotional support Red Bull and stepped into something truly incredible. I went for the music. I stayed for the meaning.
World Pride was, in a word, electrifying. Drag royalty, queer pop icons, DJs who read the crowd like a memoir. The crowd wasn’t just dancing – we were communing. Sweating together. Singing in unison. Holding each other up.
Somewhere between screaming lyrics and losing one of my earrings (RIP), I realized this isn’t just a party. It’s a power source. A reminder of what Pride really is: not a performance, but a promise. A promise to our younger selves who weren’t sure they’d make it this far. A promise that joy and justice can and should exist side by side.
It’s easy to get swept up in the celebration and believe me, I did. But what really struck me at World Pride wasn’t the headliners or the merch tables. It was the people. The ones who traveled from places where Pride doesn’t look like this. Where it’s still unsafe to be out. Where the flag we waved freely might get you fired, or worse.
In the crowd, I heard someone say, “Back home, this would never happen.” Those words stayed with me. Pride isn’t just about us. It’s about showing up for those who can’t. Back here on the coast, we’re lucky. Rehoboth has long been a sanctuary, a place where being queer isn’t just accepted, it’s part of the culture. From CAMP Rehoboth to the drag legacy of Baltimore Avenue, we’ve got decades of community care holding us up.
But we can’t let comfort breed complacency. Pride is not something we have – it’s something we do. And we have to keep doing it. Every day. On big stages and small patios. With parades and policies. With hugs, with heels, and with heat.
This month (and every month after), I’m asking you to lean into your pride – not just the rainbow tank tops and party vibes, but the responsibility, too.
Support your local drag queens (hey, it’s me!)
Tip generously
Shop queer
Volunteer
Talk to your friends and family about the history of this month
Ask how you can make this town safer, kinder, and queerer
And when the opportunity comes to show up for someone, do it
World Pride was unforgettable. It was big and bold and emotional in ways I’m still processing. But here’s what I know for sure:
We don’t show up for the glitter. We don’t show up for the photos. We show up for each other.
