As I reflect on my life in Madison, I realize there are parts of my story I haven’t always been completely open about. Not out of ill intent, but because trust can be a difficult thing to rebuild when you’ve spent years navigating environments that taught you to keep pieces of yourself guarded. Honesty is often a journey, especially when you’re still trying to break away from old patterns, old fears, and old expectations.
Before I ever made the move, Madison was a place I would travel to for Pride events, community gatherings, and opportunities to spend time with my LGBTQ family. I came to support the people and organizations creating spaces where we could be ourselves. Back then, the energy felt electric. Madison Pride in 2010 felt like a city alive with possibility, connection, and celebration. It wasn’t perfect, but it felt vibrant and growing.
In many ways, I was still learning how to come out of my shell. My first Milwaukee Pride experience in 2008 opened a door I didn’t know existed. Between military commitments, deployments, and the responsibilities that came with service, those moments of freedom and self-discovery became incredibly meaningful. I still remember seeing groups like the Chicago Boyz and Gurl Toyz perform and realizing there were entire communities living authentically and unapologetically. For someone still figuring out where they fit in the world, those experiences left a lasting impression.
What stands out most now isn’t the parties, the stages, or the crowds. It’s the people. The chosen family. The friendships. The allies. The feeling of being welcomed into spaces that allowed me to explore who I was becoming without demanding I have all the answers immediately.
Looking back at forty, I can see how those Pride celebrations, community events, and weekend trips helped shape the person I am today. They were small pieces of a much larger journey. A journey from uncertainty toward authenticity. From survival toward healing. From hiding parts of myself toward learning that my story deserved to be told in its entirety.
The truth is, geographical dreams change. Life changes. Communities evolve. We evolve with them. But I’ll always be grateful for the people, places, and moments that helped me find my voice along the way. They didn’t just give me memories. They gave me the courage to keep becoming myself.