Americans can make room for all celebrations

Americans love holidays. We’ve appropriated St. Patrick’s Day, All Hallows’ Eve and Cinco de Mayo. American heritage holidays like Fourth of July, Memorial Day and Labor Day have become long weekends full of flags, beer, picnics and sparklers. Obviously, our American salad bowl of cultures believes in celebrating.

Sometimes, we celebrate a subculture. Black History Month and Juneteenth, the Christian trifecta of Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter, and Women’s History Month and its partner, International Women’s Day represent subsets of our civic soup. These celebrations and remembrances do not represent all but can be acknowledged by all.

Key phrase: can be.

June is Pride Month, which started as a remembrance of the Stonewall Uprising. Early in its existence, it provided the platform for the LGBTQ+ community to declare its existence. “We’re here. We’re queer. Get used to it.” Cultural familiarity has certainly been established, as evidenced by the presence of nonheterosexuals and a variety of gender identities in elected officials, popular entertainment, history records (though still sorely inadequate), employee resource groups and support systems.

Like any good holiday, it has a color scheme, symbols and traditions. It has its heroes and history. It is an all-encompassing month full of parades, marches, memorializations, speeches, flags, dancing and fun.

No one is ignorant of the fact that not all holidays are universally enjoyed. Mother’s and Father’s Day can bring heartache for those who wish they were parents but aren’t. Valentine’s Day and Grandparents’ Day can also be painful. Certain religions avoid certain holidays. Certain holidays exclude certain people. But few seem to stir up anger like Pride.

For every parade and party, there will be a contingency of protesters. Many will condemn the celebrants to hell, maligning the participants for their identity or beliefs. The saddest part for me is when what Christians call the Word of God is hurled at fellow humans in a spirit of hate.

Do people brace themselves for these upcoming days of LGBTQ+ hoopla? I think many probably do. Perhaps they leave home for the couple days that rainbows fill their downtowns. I understand that.

The polarizing effects of religion and politics pull the compassion and empathy right out of us. It’s too easy to judge the subculture that is not ours as wrong, never realizing that we are also a subculture and would certainly want our passions and identities to be respected. The feelings are so strong and deep that civil discourse is hard to come by. Facts get twisted. Faces turn red. One of the best ways to heal our divisiveness goes up in the flames of fury, rather than thriving in the warmth of respect.

Can you imagine a contingency protesting Christmas morning? Or demonstrators disrupting Memorial Day parades? Why aren’t there antagonists to these holidays? Certainly many don’t adhere to Christianity, yet allow those who believe in the spiritual aspect of Christmas to celebrate it.

Somehow most of humanity tries to respect what others believe or hold dear, but it seems with Pride Month, it’s a no-holds-barred mentality.

One of my vacation friends shared a story of happy happenstance. Some years ago, while waiting to meet friends, a stranger approached my friend and asked if he could sit nearby, as he too was waiting for some companions. She welcomed him. He then asked where her boyfriend was, and she kindly replied, “Well, that would be my girlfriend, and she’s not able to come.”

The gentleman confessed he was her worst nightmare. To which my friend replied with curiosity, “What do you mean?”

He responded, “I’m an ultra-conservative Christian.”

They then proceeded to talk about what he had absorbed and what she had lived. It was an exchange of her reality and what he had accepted.

Some months later, they coincidentally met again in the same place. He approached my friend, asking if she remembered him. He recalled how they talked about their individual understandings of religion and sexual orientation, and then he conveyed that he had taken the substance of that previous conversation back to his church. His congregation listened — and continued to grow in understanding and perception of what it means to be LGBTQ+.

He thanked my friend for her willingness to be transparent. That one open conversation led to a better mutual understanding. The congregation was honestly considering how they could respond to the LGBTQ+ community at a new level of acceptance.

One thoughtful connection helped a congregation open up to a growth mindset, versus a closed door. No matter your judgment of that church, the point is my friend and that man shared their beliefs and the basis of those beliefs, respected each other’s realities, and grew in understanding of their shared humanity.

Personally, I don’t celebrate Kwanzaa or Black History Month, but when they come around in the calendar, I try to learn a little more about each. It’s quite clear I’ll never be African American, but I will try to continually understand more of what each celebration represents.

Pride Month might not be yours, but it belongs to others. Enjoy your holidays and allow us to have our celebrations.

If you oppose, don’t attend. If you oppose but want to learn, maybe participate with humility, using your ears more than your mouth. If you do choose to attend, you won’t be disappointed.

Happy Pride, Family!

Leslie Kouba is a columnist for cleveland.com.