We are living in a time when “holding the line” can sound very big and dramatic. To even consider taking action, it seems you’ll need a bullhorn, a legal team, a bunch of laminated signs and probably a minor in constitutional law. Sometimes that’s true. But more often, holding the line looks like something smaller. Maybe even — and we know this is edgy — less Instagram-worthy.
Sometimes holding the line during Pride season looks like simply remembering the people and stories that got us here. Or showing up. It looks like making things just a bit easier for someone else.
Occasionally, it looks like letting someone do that for you. It’s not just defense. It’s also care. It’s joy. It’s logistics. It’s snacks. It’s always, always, always snacks.
Here are 73 ways to hold the line for each other this beloved Pride season. Some will take just a moment. Pick out a few that fit (metaphorically) in your rainbow-pin-covered fanny pack or that attach (metaphorically) to that rainbow lanyard. And if you invent a few more along the way, all the better.
Note: The artwork here was created by Detroit illustrator Bill Ferenc, whose work appears on the June 4 print edition of Between The Lines. Grab a copy anywhere Between The Lines is distributed (check out the map here), at Motor City Pride June 6-7, or at pridesource.com/download-btl, where you can find a PDF version of the complete issue.
- Drive someone to an event they’re too nervous to attend alone.
- Sit with the person who looks like they might leave early.
- Also, don’t shame anyone for leaving early. You want to make staying possible, not mandatory.
- Support queer-owned businesses in your neighborhood or area. Write an online review if they’re amazing.
- Volunteer for Extremely Unglamorous shifts at Pride events. Ask the organizers, they’ll have something in mind. It might involve trash. And filth. But not the “Drag Race” kind.
- Carry extra safety pins. They fix outfits and feelings.
- It’s someone’s first Pride? Show up like it’s their wedding day. But better. If this is a milestone, treat it like one. Maybe bring flowers, or a onesie that says “Baby’s first dyke march.”
- Or don’t make a big deal about it. Some folks just want to slide in under the glitter. Read the room.
- If reading the room isn’t your forte, ask.
- Be patient with folks who can’t read the room.
- If you’ve got the budget for it, throw in a pair of noise-canceling headphones to lend out. Unexpectedly loud events can send people home long before they want to go.
- Bring a portable dog dish of water to every occasion. Some pets really can’t be left alone long.
- If your friend has one of these aforementioned pets, but also that pet doesn’t do well with glitter, loud noises or T-shirt cannons, offer to pet sit. Even a few hours make a difference. And they don’t make noise-canceling headphones for dogs.
- Invent noise-canceling headphones for dogs. Then start researching which queer mutual aid fund you’re going to give all your money to. Because you’re going to get very rich on July 3.
- Engage in constructive, consensual matchmaking — as author Sarah Schulman once said, “If you’re not helping someone find a girlfriend, you’re not working towards the revolution.”
- Pay attention: Is this someone’s first Pride since a break-up/death/pet death/ job loss? They might be having feelings and need a little extra support.
- Learn how to pronounce someone’s name correctly and practice it until you get it right.
- If you mess up, correct yourself without making it a whole performance.
- Ask consent before posting photos of people, especially in queer spaces.
- If someone says “don’t tag me,” don’t tag them.
- Keep an eye out for who hasn’t eaten yet and gently point them toward the food.
- Bring a portable phone charger and become briefly, wildly popular.
- Learn where the quiet space is at events and let people know it exists.
- Sit in the quiet space with someone who doesn’t want to be alone but also doesn’t want to talk.
- Bring folding chairs or a blanket to outdoor events and share the seating wealth.
- Introduce people by name and something they’d like to be known for (“This is Alex, they make incredible 3D printed vibrators”).
- If someone is new, check back in with them later in the event.
- Learn a few grounding techniques (breathing, sensory stuff) and share them casually when useful. Someone is always going to need a little help with self-regulation.
- Remind someone to drink water in a way that feels like care, not scolding.
- Let your joy be visible. It gives other people permission.
- Let your boundaries be visible too. Same reason.
- Be the first to clap, cheer or snap at a performance. Start the ripple.
- Help clean up at the end of an event.
- Without being asked.
- But stop if it turns out you’re accidentally making chaos.
- Thank the person who made the spreadsheet. There is always a spreadsheet person.
- Ask “Do you want advice or just someone to listen?” before launching in.
- Help someone brainstorm what to wear to an event they’re excited and nervous about.
- Carry naloxone (Narcan). Know how to use it.
- Send memes as a form of emotional first aid. Especially to folks who are millennials and younger.
- When planning the potluck, don’t just think about allergies and preferences. Consider textures as well.
- Let someone show up like a mama bear for you. Receiving help counts.
- Take pictures of your friends looking like themselves.
- Send those pictures immediately so they have proof on a rough day.
- Tell people what you appreciate about them.
- Notice who isn’t in the room and ask why.
- Bring your loudest guffaw to local shows, readings and open mics. Laughter is a contribution too.
- Feed people. It doesn’t have to be fancy.
- Accept food when it’s offered to you. This is also community care.
- Make art about being alive right now and share it.
- Tip the drag performer like your rent depends on it. Because their rent might!
- Check in on your strongest friend.
- Check in on your funniest friend.
- Check in on the person who always says they’re fine.
- Offer to sit on Zoom while someone cleans their room or answers an email they’ve been avoiding for seven weeks.
- Or goes no contact with that terrible ex.
- Send a “no need to respond/this comes without social obligation” check-in text so someone can feel cared for without having to perform.
- Always carry straws (paper, please — the otters and sea lions say “thank you”) so that your favorite drag queen or other highly lipsticked person can stave off dehydration.
- Make space when you realize you’re taking up a lot of it.
- Take a road trip to attend a few smaller Pride events in greater Michigan. You’re statistically less likely to run into an ex you’re avoiding or that former roommate who always left jelly marks in the peanut butter
- Use your boring privileges (steady job, stable housing, supportive family) to take risks when you can.
- Offer to go to a medical appointment with someone.
- Stay with them after the appointment, too. That’s often when the feelings show up.
- Learn what your asexual and aromantic friends actually want and respect it. But maybe ask it differently than “what do you actually want?”
- Offer to help someone make a petty coloring book about their ex. Healing comes in many forms.
- If a friend’s recovery path isn’t working, help them find other options without judgment.
- Celebrate harm reduction. White-knuckling still counts as surviving.
- Remind your friends they are allowed to rest, not just endure.
- Normalize changing your mind when you learn something new.
- Interrupt jokes that punch down, even when it’s awkward. Especially when it’s awkward.
- Follow up after someone says they’re struggling. Not just once.
- Keep showing up. Not perfectly. Not always gracefully. But consistently.
- Don’t disappear. Your friends need you. We need you. We all need you.
