Wednesday.

It’s the first day of Pride Month and I live in Oklahoma.

In Oklahoma every county went red, doing that Oklahoma 'red dirt' proud, in November 2020.

In Oklahoma, we Cowboys are Orange & Black, and those Sooners are Crimson & Cream – but that’s not enough to make a rainbow.

It’s the first day of Pride Month and I live in Oklahoma and I’m sitting in the waiting room at a massage center.

I hear the masseuse telling the receptionist about how people on the internet called her homophobic.

I bet she’s homophobic.

She

“interacts with gay people,”

She

“has cross-dressing friends,”

She

“lives with the Lord in her heart”

She

“knows the capital-T Truth”

She

“doesn’t understand why IT has to be an identity; the only true identity is the Lord”

She

“loves everyone, and why can’t that be enough?”

Why can’t love be enough.

We both know the answer to that question.

It’s the first day of Pride Month and I live in Oklahoma and I’m sitting in the waiting room at a massage center trying to decide if I’m being tapped for my moment of queer education for the day.

It’s the first day of Pride Month and I live in Oklahoma and I’m sitting in the waiting room at a massage center where my capital-T Truth isn’t known, but isn’t wanted.

It’s the first day of Pride Month and I live in Oklahoma – No.

I live in Oklahoma, and today is a Wednesday. Today is not Parades or Rainbows or Love or Acceptance or Protest or Pride. I live in Oklahoma, and today is a Wednesday.

Not every parade is meant to sing.

Sometimes, it’s just a Wednesday, but I’m still queer.

I’m still

Here.

I want to ask her why can’t my love, be enough.

I know her answer without asking the question.

We all know the answer before the question.

It’s the first day of Pride Month and I live in Oklahoma and today is a

Wednesday.