On Saturday, I went to my first ever Pride Parade.

Pride Parades are a tradition and to some extent a right of passage within the queer community. It's a celebration of our identities and our culture in a world where most people are against us.

I began my journey at 5 a.m. that morning when I woke up, got ready and drove down to Indianapolis with my friend Takoda. I was wearing a shirt I had made myself: a white tank top with the bisexual flag painted on the front, with the words, "Bi, Queer, & Proud" written on the back by my sister.

We got to his house, made breakfast and walked downtown, reaching the parade at about 9:45. Behind us were two people who ended up hanging out with us all day: Cas* and Anna*. Both of them were teenagers, and they reminded me about how exciting it was and is to be a teenager, especially growing up in places where it isn't always safe to be who you are. I ended up kissing Cas later on that day. There we were, two genderfluid young people, kids really, kissing in the street really just because we could and we wanted to. Queerness was something to be celebrated at Pride; none of us had really experienced that kind of celebration of our identities at that kind of scale. There were thousands of people, many scantily clad in underwear or leather in the 100 degree heat of Indianapolis downtown, celebrating. People were passing out everything from bananas to beads to condoms, throwing them from floats. Dogs in tutus walked by as people from all parts of the LGBTQIA+ community walked passed me full of pride. Drag Queens always got big cheers.

There were anti-gay protesters across the street from us. A group from a local church tried to give them water. They gave us, water too. The bottles had a note: "Ignore them. You are loved." We were all damned, apparently. But we all knew something they didn't know: if hell is just full of queer people, then it must all be one big party, just like this. We were ready.

After the parade, we went out to lunch at a brewery Cas and Anna knew, and that was when we said our farewells. When Cas and I kissed goodbye, I felt like I was on top of the world.

Takoda and I walked to the pride festival that was after the parade. We walked around, collecting free stuff as we went. We watched some drag shows and a man play a saw like it was a fiddle. There was pride everywhere. There was love everywhere. A guy wearing the genderfluid flag as a shirt walked up to me and screamed, "CUUUUTE!" as he gave me a hug, and couldn't think of anything else to say. This was my life, I was in my element. Never in my life had I really been with my community at that scale. I was ready. I felt home.

When we got back to Takoda's house, I laid down in the air conditioning, sweating and gross but at home. I was elated, high on the experience I just had. That Saturday was, hands down, one of the best days of my life. At around two am I went to sleep.

Little did I know, Pulse Nightclub tweeted the following at around 2 a.m.: "Everyone get out of Pulse and keep running." It turns out, Pulse Nightclub is now the site of the worst mass shooting in history. At least 50 people are dead. Fifty-three others are wounded. This was an act of domestic terrorism, yes. But it doesn't matter what religion the shooter believed in. What matters is that, at this time, this appears to be a hate crime against the LGBTQ+ community. MY community. The people who just the day before were celebrating themselves, how far we have gone. And now we have Lt. governors tweeting about how we reap what we sow. We still have so far to go. That hurts me. I am grieving for the losses of Orlando.

But we have to keep celebrating. We have to keep fighting for our rights. We have to keep marching and protesting and reading and writing and speaking. We have to keep our Pride, because in the end, those who are trying to kill us and hurt us will not be able to take away who we are.

I'm going to end this with what I wrote on Facebook earlier about Orlando and Pride:

"Yesterday was one of the best days of my life. And then I woke up to find that the worst mass shooting in American history took place in a gay bar on their "Latin Night." And that the shooter's father is saying that his son's motive was homophobia.
This is Pride month. We celebrate our victories, dance, parade and party in the streets. But the fight isn't over. Indiana showed us that last year. North Carolina showed us that. And now, last night proved it all too well.

Yesterday at the parade, an anti-gay protester actually told the crowd, "at least we aren't killing you like they do in some countries." Well, then explain trans day of remembrance. Explain Leelah Alcorn. Explain how over 50 percent of bi women experience sexual assault. Explain why 40 percent of the trans community has thoughts of suicide. Explain Orlando. Excuse the language - but I f*****g dare you.
Stop killing us, America. Then we'll talk."

Rest in Power. And for those of us who are still here -- keep your pride.

* names changed