June is Pride Month — a time of rainbows, celebration, protest, and reflection. For many, it’s a time of joyful visibility. For others, like me, it’s a complex blend of emotions, history, and survival. I live at the intersection of many identities: I’m asexual, aromantic, genderqueer, poly-minded, a kinkster power switch — and I’m disabled. Each piece of my identity stands on its own, but together they form a reality that doesn’t often get represented during Pride.
The Quiet Validity of Being AroAce
Being asexual and aromantic during Pride often feels like showing up to a concert no one expects you at. Aces and Aros are regularly told we don’t belong — that our identities aren’t “queer enough,” that we’re just shy, traumatized, or confused. But I know who I am, and I don’t need performative affection or traditional relationships to validate my queerness.
Pride is about owning your truth — and this is mine: I experience connection differently. I value depth over default, chosen bonds over assumed roles. My relationships might not look like yours, but they are still real, valid, and vibrant.
Gender Doesn’t Owe You Simplicity
As a genderqueer and non-binary person, I don’t fit into a neat box — and I never have. My presentation, my voice, my energy shift depending on the day, the spoons, the space. Some days I lean masc, others I’m soft-femme, sometimes I’m an avatar of liminal chaos. And all of that is valid. All of that is me.
Pride lets me reclaim visibility on my own terms — not with loud statements or neon signs (unless I want them), but by simply existing in my body and saying: I’m here. I matter.
Poly-Minded, Kink-Informed — And Still Ace
It surprises people when I say I’m poly-minded and a kinkster power switch — and also Ace. There’s a misconception that being asexual means being disinterested in everything under the intimacy umbrella. But asexuality is about orientation, not behavior. I can explore connection, consent, power, and play in ways that are deeply meaningful — even if my approach looks different than most.
In fact, it’s often my Ace-ness that makes me a better communicator. I don’t assume attraction. I ask. I listen. I honor boundaries because I know how vital they are.
Disability and Pride: Still Here, Still Fighting
Pride is not always accessible — literally or figuratively. Events often overlook disabled queers. Ramps are missing, online streams are nonexistent, ASL interpreters aren’t hired. But our absence is not the same as invisibility. We are here. We always have been.
Being disabled affects everything: how I experience gender, how I navigate relationships, how I find (or lose) access to community. It adds layers of isolation, but also resilience. Pride, for me, isn’t just a party — it’s an act of survival. Every day I exist loudly, I resist the systems that say I shouldn’t.
Bridging to Disability Pride Month
As Pride Month winds down, I’m already looking ahead to July: Disability Pride Month. I’ll be sharing more about what pride looks like when your body, mind, and identity are all called into question — and how we keep thriving anyway.
Whether you’re queer, disabled, both, or just curious — you’re welcome here.
Until then: Be safe, be proud, and be exactly who you are. That’s always enough.
Want to share your story or thoughts? Drop a comment or reach out — my blog is a space for real talk, real people, and lived truth.