June is officially listed as LGBTQ+ pride month. During that time, we as a community come together to celebrate the strides and achievements made over the years. To those outside of the community (or those new to it), it seems like one big party going on for an entire month. Parades. Shows. Discount specials at the club. However, like many things, Pride is much more than what is seen on the surface.

The first Pride parade “documented” was June 28, 1970, exactly one year after the Stonewall riots. It traveled 51 blocks in New York City, from Christopher Street (the site of the Stonewall Inn) to Central Park. Members of the LGBTQ+ community came together to march openly in the face of hate and violence. We stood up and said (if you’ll pardon the cliché) “We’re here, we’re queer and we aren’t going anywhere.” Forty-six years later, it has become a staple of LGBTQ+ life. It is now celebrated across the globe. Many associate the Folsom Street Fair in San Francisco (established in 1984) as the inciting pride event, though this is incorrect.

This year, we saw the trending of a #heterosexualpride day. No, it is not the first time something like this has cropped up before, but it certainly gained more of a widespread traction than before, largely in part due to social media. While many people were simply there to troll the idea of any type of pride celebration, the darker intent of something as simple as a hashtag reared its ugly head. Postings ranged from silly and mildly nasty to downright hateful and threatening. Now more than ever, the necessity of pride and the culture surrounding it is clear. The world is still a very dangerous place for us.

In my small mountain town of Boone, NC, Pride month is a small if almost non-existent entity. During the school year, the LGBT center hosts many events for our community, from four drag shows (two of them professional) to App State Pride, usually in late April or early May. App State is a very inclusive and safe community as a whole, and yet there is also a sadness there. Anyone in the community may come in and join the fun. It’s very welcoming, but there is the catch. These events are tucked away on campus in areas where the outside community cannot see. App State Pride is held on Sanford Mall, in the center of campus, away from any roads or spaces where anyone else can see. The professional drag shows come up usually near exam time, when students are crunching for finals and cannot let their attention waiver for long. A larger closet made of glass is still a closet.

We go to App Pride. Attend the drag show. Finals are held and one by one, many of the students head home. The LGBT Center at Appalachian is closed for the summer and those of us left are here to fend for ourselves until August comes along and the center is reopened. For Boone, the month of June, Pride month, is silent. If we wish to celebrate, we must drive an hour or more away to one of the clubs in Charlotte, Hickory or Johnson City. If we need a community of support, a safe space, we must look to our friends on Facebook or find a way to travel to a city center. There is no LGBT center of Boone. We are once again invisible. Erased. Thus the need for Pride.

So where do we begin? A good place to start is to identify the safe spaces. Areas and businesses where we can gather to support one another without discrimination, fear, or violence. Places where we can host events that are for us. A place is a start, but here is the real catch. It takes bodies. People who say “I will not be afraid. I will not be invisible. I will not be erased.” It takes courage. We know we will be met with opposition. Not just we as LGBTQ+ people, but our supporters as well. We must be strong and support them. It takes patience. The going will be slow. Progress doesn’t happen overnight. All the while, people will fight us and not all of them will be open and brash about it. The best trap comes wrapped up with a bow. It takes passion. A desire for change. When you see a problem and you want to do something about it, do it. Follow through. Don’t let that fire fizzle out at the first sign of hardship. You have to keep going. We can’t give it any less.

Pride is important. It is more than just a big party and colorful parade. It is a time of visibility, celebration and even mourning. Today, LGBTQ+ youth are at the highest risks of homelessness, self-harm, and suicide. Fourteen trans-persons have been murdered in 2016, many of them persons of color. On June 12, at the height of Pride, 49 LGBTQ+ people (mostly of color) were gunned down and 53 more were injured in a hate-fueled attack. Every day, LGBTQ+ people face violence, oppression and fear from all sides in the United States. And we are the lucky ones. 79 countries have anti-LGBT laws in place. 10 of them carry a conviction punishable by death. Yet there are those that brave the fight for equality and visibility, no matter the cost. If people can risk so much in a place like Saudi Arabia, then what does that say for us here in Boone? We must not be silent. We must not be invisible. We owe it to ourselves, those who came before, and those who will follow.