As Pride Month comes to an end, the rainbows may be coming down, but the spirit they represent isn’t going anywhere.
The month of June has felt like a prolonged attack. Not just in one state or one school, but at every level of power, from local boards to national courts to international governments.
In Ohio, state officials have dismantled diversity, equity and inclusion initiatives in higher education, which has effectively resulted in the closure of Ohio University’s Pride, Multicultural and Women’s Centers.
However, what I find convenient is this is happening in the same state where the landmark Supreme Court case legalizing same-sex marriage nationwide, Obergefell v. Hodges, began.
The case was born out of a plea for recognition when Jim Obergefell sued the state of Ohio to have his marriage acknowledged after his husband, John Arthur, died of ALS. Writing for the majority, Justice Anthony Kennedy said, “The nature of injustice is that we may not always see it in our own times.”
The court ruled same-sex couples could not be denied the fundamental right to marry, stating: “Their hope is not to be condemned to live in loneliness, excluded from one of civilization’s oldest institutions. They ask for equal dignity in the eyes of the law. The Constitution grants them that right.”
Ten years later, that equal dignity is once again under threat. The language has changed. The goal to push queer people out of public life has not.
At the federal level, similar movements are gaining ground. Last week, the Supreme Court ruled in Mahmoud v. Taylor that parents in Maryland can opt their young children out of public school lessons featuring LGBTQ-themed books.
Critics warn this decision risks isolating children from diverse perspectives essential to growing up in a multicultural society. As Justice Sonia Sotomayor wrote in her dissent, such exposure offers to “children of all faiths and backgrounds an education and an opportunity to practice living in our multicultural society,” warning it “will become a mere memory if children must be insulated from exposure to ideas and concepts that may conflict with their parents’ religious beliefs.”
This case feels like a victory for those hoping to avoid uncomfortable conversations, but that avoidance comes at a cost. Just because a topic is challenging or controversial doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be taught. Plenty of people find subjects like slavery disturbing, yet we still teach them because understanding our history and our society requires grappling with discomfort. The growing movement to push queer people out of public life has not stopped at rhetoric — it’s shaping law, policy, and education. Shielding children from LGBTQ+ perspectives doesn’t protect them; it deprives them of the chance to engage with the full, diverse reality of the world they live in
Around the world, governments are codifying prejudice under the label of “protection.” In Hungary, that has meant legislative bans on pride events and the surveillance of those who participate.
Yet pride continues. Not because it is permitted, but because it is necessary.
On Saturday, more than 100,000 people marched in the Budapest Pride parade, the largest turnout the city has ever seen. This came after the Hungarian government declared LGBTQ+ events to be illegal.
In March, according to CNN, “Hungarian lawmakers passed legislation barring Pride events and permitting the use of facial recognition technology to identify participants - measures campaigners say is illegal and part of a wider crackdown on the LGBTQ+ community.”
Despite this, organizers found a way forward. After police denied the original permit, Budapest’s mayor, Gergely Karácsony, reclassified the Pride march as a municipal event, a legal workaround, allowing it to proceed.
Eszter Rein Bodi, a marcher, who joined the massive crowds in Budapest, told Reuters, “This is about much more, not just about homosexuality … This is the last moment to stand up for our rights.”
So people did. They stood up and marched anyway.
That’s the power of Pride. It persists under pressure and grows louder when told to be quiet. It finds a way, even when governments try to block the street.
As Pride Month ends, remember it’s not just a celebration, it’s a refusal to be silenced. No matter who tries to legislate otherwise, pride will always persevere.
Abby Waechter is a senior studying strategic communication at Ohio University. Please note the views and opinions of the columnists do not reflect those of The Post. Have something to say? Email Abby at aw087421@ohio.edu.
