Pride started as a riot. Stonewall in 1969 was a protest against police violence — a refusal, by drag queens, trans people, and queer New Yorkers of every kind, to be erased. The parades and parties came later. They came because of what those people refused to give up.

We named this year’s theme Unity in Community because we think both words matter, and neither one is soft.

Community is the easy part to say. It’s what we already are: neighbors on a peninsula, a few thousand people who share the same grocery store, the same harbors, the same fitness center and parks, and the same school. We see each other at the post office. We know each other’s kids.

Unity is the harder part. Unity isn’t agreement. It isn’t pretending we all feel the same way about everything. Unity is the decision to show up for each other anyway — especially when it’s uncomfortable, especially when someone’s safety or dignity is on the line, especially when staying quiet would be easier.

For LGBTQIA+ people in coastal Maine in 2026, this isn’t abstract. It’s whether your kid feels safe at school. It’s whether the trans person in your church gets the same welcome as everyone else. It’s whether your gay neighbor’s marriage is still recognized in five years. It’s whether the teenager figuring themselves out has someone to talk to who won’t make them smaller.

Unity in community means: collaboration, when we can build something together. Empathy, when we can’t yet understand but are willing to try. Action, because warm feelings alone don’t protect anyone.

If you’re queer, you belong here. If you love someone queer, you belong here. If you’re still figuring out what any of this means and you came here with questions, you belong here, too. Bring the questions.

We’ll see you at Pride.