Last Sunday began like almost every other Sunday.
I woke up, poured my first cup of coffee, and did what I’ve done nearly every morning for the past 50 years in the news business—I started reading the news. I move from source to source to see how the world woke up. That morning, I turned on BBC World News.
The lead story stopped me cold.
Reports described a vehicle attack near Berlin’s Brandenburg Gate during the city’s Pride celebrations. As the details unfolded, my mind immediately traveled back to another horrific day—the massacre at Pulse Nightclub in Orlando. It also brought to mind the recent Pride celebration in Medford, New Jersey, where nearly a thousand people gathered knowing that religious extremists had announced they would be there.
Those moments remind us of a reality that every LGBTQ+ person understands. When we gather publicly, whether at a Pride march, a community center, or a celebration, there are still people in this world who believe we should disappear. They want us to be silent. They want us to go back into hiding.
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Yet every year, millions of us do exactly the opposite.
That is why I am so proud of everyone who attends Pride.
People often think the bravest thing you’ll do in life is serve in combat, rush into a burning building, or stand up to injustice. For many LGBTQ+ people, the bravest thing they will ever do is simply show up at Pride and say, “This is who I am.”
Every person who marches honors those who came before them.
I think back to that first Pride March in 1970. We were only about 15,000 people walking up Sixth Avenue in New York City, but we carried something far greater than signs. We carried a simple message: We are out. We are proud. We are not going back into the closet. We refused to remain invisible.
That spirit has never changed.
As I watched those reports from Berlin, Jason and I were packing our bags for WorldPride in Amsterdam, where I would soon stand on a stage and speak publicly—as I have done for decades—with pride. The thought never crossed my mind to stay home. Nothing and no one was going to silence me.
Because if terrorists, extremists, or those fueled by hatred can frighten us into staying away from Pride, community centers, or any public LGBTQ+ event, then they have accomplished exactly what they set out to do.
We cannot allow that to happen.
One of the greatest lessons I learned walking up Sixth Avenue in 1970 is that visibility changes history. Every person who is seen makes it easier for someone else to be seen. Every march, every rally, every Pride celebration chips away at fear and replaces it with acceptance.
We have grown from 15,000 marchers on that first Pride Day to millions celebrating in cities around the globe. That didn’t happen by accident. It happened because generation after generation refused to disappear.
There is extraordinary power in visibility. There is safety in community. And there is hope in our numbers.
So, to everyone who has ever marched, waved a rainbow flag, volunteered at Pride, or simply had the courage to show up—thank you.
Your visibility is changing the world.
Your courage honors our history.
And because of you, the next generation will inherit a world that is freer than the one we were given.
