In the heart of summer, on June 28, 1970, a revolutionary tapestry of color and defiance unraveled on the streets of New York City. A year to the day after the infamous Stonewall riots, the first Pride Parade — then known as the Christopher Street Liberation Day March — blossomed into a bold proclamation of queer existence and resistance. This pivotal moment in queer history, a riot of color, courage, and rebellion, still resonates today amidst a politically charged environment marked by anti-trans legislation.

The parade was a tempest of emotion, a kaleidoscope of bright banners and louder voices. It began at Washington Place and moved uptown via 6th Avenue, with its final destination in Central Park. A congregation of a few hundred souls, undeterred by the scorching sun and the societal heat, proudly marched, their hearts pulsating to the rhythm of newfound freedom. Fear mingled with joy, apprehension intertwined with hope, and each step forward was a testament to their tenacity.

One such indomitable spirit was Marsha P. Johnson, a transgender woman of color and a veteran of the Stonewall uprising. With her infectious smile and flamboyant flower crowns, Johnson was a beacon of resilience amidst the turbulent sea of societal bias. She held her head high and walked with grace, leaving a trail of inspiration that still resonates in the hearts of today's queer community.

With the first Pride Parade, the queer community didn't merely walk; they danced, shouted, and sang songs of liberation. The air was thick with chants for equality, and the streets rang with the sound of resistance. It was more than a march; it was a defiant celebration of identity and a clarion call for change.

Fast forward to the present, and echoes of that riotous celebration reverberate through the continued fight for queer rights. Amidst the political turmoil and the recent surge of anti-trans legislation, the spirit of the first Pride remains a guiding light.

The anti-trans bills being considered and passed in several U.S. states are reminiscent of the oppressive laws that triggered the Stonewall riots. Now, as then, the queer community is rallying, fueled by the same determination and bravery that characterized that hot summer June afternoon.

Today's queer public figures, like actress and advocate Laverne Cox or author and activist Janet Mock, are the legacy of pioneers like Marsha P. Johnson. These women, transgender women of color like Johnson, stand on the front lines, leveraging their platforms to challenge harmful legislation and societal prejudices. They embody the enduring spirit of the first Pride Parade, their voices echoing the same message of resistance and liberation.

As we find ourselves in a politically charged environment, the story of Pride offers invaluable lessons. It reminds us that change is achieved not in silence, but in an uproar; not in hiding, but in visibility; and not in fear, but in pride. The parade was not a plea for acceptance, but a declaration of existence, a demand for rights, and an assertion of pride.

In today's world, where rights are still being fought for, and identities are under attack, the memory of the first Pride serves as a rallying cry. It's a reminder that every challenge met with courage fuels the journey toward equality and acceptance.

Indeed, the first Pride was not a peaceful march, but a riot — a riot of diversity, voices, and emotions. It was an outcry against injustice and a refusal to be silenced. Today, that riot continues in the form of protests, advocacy, and the relentless pursuit of rights and recognition.

As we commemorate Pride each year, we remember the event’s origins and reflect on its significance. We celebrate not just the progress made, but also honor the rebellion that sparked this global movement. From the vibrant streets of New York City in 1970 to the countless Pride parades worldwide today, we trace the footsteps of those brave pioneers who dared to demand a better world.

This Pride, we must remember those like Sylvia Rivera, another transgender woman of color and a contemporary of Marsha P. Johnson. Rivera fought tirelessly for the rights of transgender people, particularly those most marginalized. Today, as trans youth face legislation that threatens their rights and well-being, her fire and passion continue to inspire advocates and activists.

Moreover, we must acknowledge the intersectionality within our struggle. The first Pride was a collective act of defiance by queer people from all walks of life, and it’s crucial that we continue to uplift every voice within our community. Our fight against anti-trans legislation is not separate from our broader struggle for queer rights; it's an integral part of it.

In the face of today's challenges, we can draw strength from the legacy of the first Pride. We can remember the jubilant defiance in the face of adversity, the solidarity within diversity, and the courage that turned a march into a movement.

As we honor Pride this year, let's channel the energy of the 1970 Pride, the spirit of Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera, and the resilience of our community. Let us remember that Pride was born out of protest, and it continues to be an act of resistance.

We must stand together in the face of anti-trans legislation and any form of discrimination. We must raise our voices, wave our flags, and march forward just as those brave souls did in June 1970. For the battle is not yet won, and the riot is not yet over.

In the end, the first Pride serves as a vibrant testament to the power of visibility, the strength of unity, and the resilience of the queer community. It stands as a beacon of hope, illuminating our path as we navigate through the complex landscapes of today's sociopolitical environment. As we take each step forward, we carry the spirit of the first Pride within us, igniting our resolve to continue the fight for equality and acceptance. Because Pride, in its essence, is and always will be, a rio