What Pride Month Means to Me

Earlier this year, as the so-called "bathroom bill" (SB 244) was being debated on the Kansas House floor, I sat and watched dozens of my new colleagues—people I work alongside, people who are supposed to represent every Kansan—debate my humanity.

It wasn't the first time I've been forced to sit by while people I don't know speculate about my rights, and my transgender peers' rights, to exist in society. Nor will it be the last. Nobody should have to endure that. But I knew the job I signed up for, and I knew this moment might come. I just didn't expect it to be my third week on the job.

Rather than dwell on how exhausting it is to let others tell my story, I'd like to share a bit of it with you here.

From my earliest recollections, I knew I was different—clichéd, I know, but true. I grew up in a conservative religious environment that refused to celebrate the full breadth of human experience. And while I didn't always have the language for what I felt, the feeling was always there. Through childhood, through my teenage years, through my years of military service, I kept that part of myself hidden. It wasn't until my late 20s, and really my 30s, that I found words for what I'd always known deep down: I had been misgendered at birth. And so began my transition. I was honorably discharged from the military, and I started my life anew.

Like many, my path to becoming a proud queer advocate was aligned with my journey to my own self-acceptance. Overcoming the shame and insecurity instilled throughout my conservative upbringing wasn't easy, but it became the foundation of everything I do publicly. 

It's how I know, in a deeply personal way, just how important representation is—not only within the queer community, but in all aspects of our lives: at home, at work, and in our neighborhoods.

For me, Pride Month is a time of celebration and revitalization. When so much of our experiences are centered on survival, Pride celebrations are epicenters of queer joy and community. As a touchstone for many, it’s also an opportunity to build upon that community and organize efforts to improve the lived experiences of queer people year round.

I was honored to be asked to speak at the ICT Pride Parade Rally this Saturday, and I'd love to have you march with me in the Parade right after. You can learn more about both events at the Facebook event linked here.

As much as I love Pride Month, our fight doesn't end when June does. It continues in Topeka, where a Republican supermajority is already laying the groundwork for more bills like SB 244—and where we need legislators willing to stand up, even when it's personal, and say no.

This is why I'm asking: if you're able, please make a gift to this campaign.

Your support helps us keep organizing, keep knocking doors, and keep making the case to voters across District 86 about what's truly on the line—not just for me, but for every Kansan whose humanity shouldn't be subject to a floor vote.

Thank you for standing with me, this month and every month.

In solidarity, 

Abi