I’ve always wanted to go to one but I never really had pride in who I am. Years of insults and dismissal from others made me believe that what I am is something bad that should be hidden and shamed.
I’ve always wanted to go to one but I never really had the connection or community. I’d see how other people celebrated it in the news and on the web and I just felt I’d be faking it if I acted the same way. I wasn’t happy about myself, I didn’t want other people to see me.
I’ve always wanted to go to one but I would have been alone. I didn’t want that, just doing my usual routine of crawling up in a hoodie with headphones on and sinking in to the crowd, a black outfit devoid of all colour around an invisible body.
I want to go this year. I want to go with Fiona. I’m still struggling to find peace within myself, to find that reason to celebrate who I am. But I have a reason to celebrate Pride now. I want to walk down the street holding her hand, i want to show our love to the world and be like “Hey. Hey have you seen this amazing woman!”. I want to hold my head high, I want to smooch her face, and I want to shout out loud to anyone listening. I want the hundreds that tried to stop me to realise that their attempts are now all meaningless, because this one person has the power to shut them all up and show me more than just black and white.
I don’t know how long I’ll manage, social anxiety is a whole separate problem of its own. But if I can be out for even 10 minutes (pun!), if I can show the world that I am proud of who I love, if I can have just that one beautiful moment outside of holding my girlfriend’s hand while staring in to her wonderfully blue eyes - likely before having a panic attack and having to go back inside - I’ll finally have something to be proud of within me. I’ll have a reason to go next year too!
I’m typing this I suppose as a promise to both myself and Fiona, a statement that I really am trying this year, that I want desperately to find happiness, and that i truly do love her with all of my being.
I am an 18 year old British-born, 100% Pakistani girl. For a long time, I’ve had the mixed sense of pride and shame that comes associated with being brought up between two cultures-never quite ‘British’ enough yet never quite Pakistani enough. But I’ve come to realise that the two aren’t a dichotomy.
Honestly, I’ve been finding out more and more about Pakistani history and culture from my mother and I’m growing more and more proud of my South Asian heritage everyday. I hope one day I can visit it in future :) and blogs like yours really help & inspire me as cheesy as it sounds
Also, just gotta add a big 'fuck you’ to the girls who asked why I had mud on my hands when I wore mendhi on my hands to school when I was younger and now they’re all wearing it’s something hip n trendy n cool :))))) and ppl who think it’s okay to culturally appropriate in general !!!
Also another 'fuck you’ to the fact we never seem to see contributions from South Asians in any history books/lessons, much less learn about the British Empire and colonisation. Yes my grandad fought the Nazis along side the British, yes he was a prisoner of war, yes he was a Muslim and Pakistani, don’t look so surprised.
Also I couldn’t find a nice up to date selfie n I’m really new to Tumblr so I hope this picture my friend took for her photography course is okay!! Thank you so much for providing a safe place to vent and inform it means a lot ❤️❤️❤️ happy AFAD!!!
I now had comfirmation from the people around me that this was okay and they even thought that it was strong of me to actually come out with it. In my world it was more all or nothing. I didn’t have a choice, I just had to know what people around me thought about this and if my thoughts that this was to be considered wrong and disgusting to be true or not. Just to so that I could go on with my life basically. I was so sure that this was wrong and I thought that I got it confirmed when I told someone for the first time.
But, as it turnes out, that wasn’t the whole truth. The majority of people around me suddenly thought that I was strong for standing up for myself. It was rather hard to go directly from shame to pride just like that and I didn’t even understand how it had come to that, so it took me some time to actually get over the shock and actually feel happy about it.
Now I could all of a sudden stand up for who I was. The only problem was that I was still living at home and that my parents didn’t know about it. But since everyone else knew I knew that it was only a matter of time before they would find out.
As previously mentioned I told my mother everything, and she pretended to accepted it but totally fliped when I the next day had dressed how I was more comfortable and told me to get rid of all that shit before my father got home and to not tell him about any of this. I also had to hear about how wrong and disgusting I was.
So, everyone knew except my dad and everyone accepted it except for my parents. Which meant that even though I had alot of support I would still have to live as someone else. But this time it wasn’t feeling any shame, just hate for the few people who couldn’t accept me for who I was. And those people just happened to be the ones I was living with, so all my hope about actually starting with my transition and begin to live as a girl had to wait until I had my own place.
This was a rather difficult time for me. I had confirmed that this was okay, I had the support to be able to change my life for the better and I didn’t want to wait any longer. I had already waited for so many years for acceptance, but now when I had it I still couldn’t do anything just beacuse I lived with them. This led to a growing hatred for my parents. It wasn’t just this that they had done towards me, but this was the thing that made it cross the line. But I couldn’t do anything about it.
I had people around me that accepted and helped me through all this, and I could atleast be myself while I was with them. But I had yet to actually go outside as a girl. Everyone knew about it, but I was still to scared to take that last step.
Assalam alikm all, Skye here.
i hope you are all in the best of health and iman inshallah. Iv been of tumblr for a while now and rarely post about my personal life but im coming to you all now with the hope that maybe some of you may be able to help me in my current situation. As you can see iv put a link for my go fund me page and below this ill add the description from there. I feel alot of shame and discomfort having to ask anyone for financial support but at the at time, im seeing this as just a trial from Allah and a way for me to inshallah destroy some of my pride. Verily with every hardship comes relief and I’m just holding onto the promises of the almighty.
From my go fund me:
I am a revert to islam currently living in Melbourne. Because of family and health issues, my parents and i do not live together and they now do not financially support me. For months now i have had trouble making ends meet, especially in regards to paying for my university costs as well as putting decent food on my table/paying bills etc.
Iv been trying to find work for about 6months to no avail, and its a large reason why its been a struggle to survive the day to day. I also have health issues, which caused me to leave my bachelor to take up a more flexable diploma course. Covering its costs has been near impossible and im in a constant state of worry that i may not be able to complete my education/find work.
Even if/when i can get government aid (iv been having problems with centrelink for over a year), i would still be struggling until i have a job and so iv come here to hope that maybe someone could help me out just a little so i can have enough money to survive on next month until hopefully the centrelink aid comes through. I feel really alone and guilty for having to ask for people to give when so many of us these days have issues with our finances but it would really help me to, God willing, be able to pay for things like my medication, food and uni supplies until i can get a job.
Thank you so much.
I am bisexual and I’m tired of hiding. I don’t care if people would accept me for who I really am. I just want to be myself because I’m tired of pretending to be someone I’m not. You know what hurts me? That my family kept hiding me from people not because they’re protecting me, but because I’m a big shame to them. It took me a lot of courage to confess and post this. So what if I’m gay? That does not define my faith in God. I’m tired of trying to make everyone proud. I’m tired of making people satisfied. I’m not asking for acceptance, equality and I’m not even fighting to my rights. I just wanna be free.
You’re missing the fundamentals of what “Pride” is really supposed to be about. For the most part, taking pride in something you had no say in and were in no way responsible for is kind of silly. I know that as Americans we love to talk about how PROUD we are to have been born here, but let’s face it, being proud of what landmass you dropped out of your mama’s vagina onto is weird, at best.
The various PRIDE marches and events regarding race, nationality, or sexual orientation are a response from groups that have been historically told that they should feel SHAME for what they are.
I’m a lesbian that grew up in a hyper-religious, homophobic family. I was suicidal by the time I was ten years old. I thought God hated me. I KNEW I hated me. I’d stay up late every night praying for God to please just make me stop liking girls. When I figured out that my parents were assholes, the church was full of shit, and it was okay to love who I loved regardless of their genital situation, I was filled with a palpable and euphoric feeling of relief. I had carried that shame and self-loathing around for so long. I didn’t have to be ashamed. I didn’t have to hope no one found out. I could TELL people. I could be PROUD.
I guess what I’m trying to say here is, I’m not PROUD in the traditional sense of the fact that I’m attracted to people that have vaginas. I’m proud of some of the art I’ve made. I’m proud of a lot of my accomplishments. I’m proud of the kindness and compassion I’ve learned as I’ve gotten older… I’m not PROUD to be an American (though I am generally happy to be one) or a quarter Sicilian or green-eyed or right-handed. When I say that I’m a PROUD LESBIAN what I really mean (what we all really mean) is that I’m a lesbian, and all you assholes who think I’m somehow beneath you or unworthy of respect because of that can SUCK IT!
The “Pride” in Black Pride, Mexican Pride, Asian Pride, Gay Pride, Trans-Pride, etc really means “And not ashamed.” It’s important when you’re an oppressed group to remind your oppressors that you don’t buy into their smug sense of superiority.
The “Pride” in White Pride or Straight Pride just means, “I don’t understand what it is to struggle, but I’m upset because there’s positive attention and it isn’t directed at me.” Seriously, fuck you guys.