Paul and I always attend the Panhandle Equality picnic. Now in its fourth year, the event continues to grow. This year, there were fantastic musical performances, some from acts who traveled from Lincoln and Omaha to be a part of making a difference in western Nebraska.
I don’t know everyone at the event, but there are always the familiar faces. They are working to make life better for the next generation so that, one day, the LGBTQ community won’t have to work so hard just to be seen as an equal.
“This is why we’re here,” my friend Mindy said. She pointed toward some youth walking along the footpath in Frank Park, draped in the colors of Pride. “We need to support them.”
She’s right. These are kids going through the same things we did at their age, trying to find their way in the world and, because we live in small town America, they have to face and endure things others don’t.
I can walk through the streets of Scottsbluff and no one knows about my mental illness. They don’t see my struggles because they are mostly internal. I guard them, sharing with only people I trust. No one knows what really goes on in my brain. Even those who know snippets of my life cannot understand the internal turmoil I experience on a daily basis. And I can walk the streets and people think I’m “normal” – whatever the hell that is anyway.
These kids though, they have another level of courage and bravery. Once they declare they are gay, lesbian, transgender or anything else, they have a giant label slapped on them. There’s a good chance they’re already bullied at school. By taking that step forward to say, “this is who I am and I’m not ashamed,” they will face ridicule.
This is why we’re here.
Friends, family members, and allies gather together at the Panhandle Picnic each year to show their support. I watched people be comfortable with who they are, laugh, eat pizza, sing, and share in the joy of the human existence. They are who they are and there is nothing wrong with that.
This is why we’re here.
I listened to Ryan Griffin of Panhandle Equality speak about the way his family has treated him. I am happy that, despite those troubles, he continues to be himself and doesn’t back down, be who others expect him to be.
I watched our local youth participate in the talent contest, sharing their joys of music with those of us who came to the picnic. There was also Inga, empress of the Imperial Court of Nebraska, who heard about the event and wanted to sing and share.
This is why we’re here.
I talked with my friend Mindy again about how youth are treated in the schools and how we need to do better. One of Panhandle Equality’s goals is to raise awareness about the high rate of suicide in the LGBTQ community. They have a higher risk for bullying, violence, and suicide than any other group in the country. We have to do better.
I watched the youth as they went about their day, talking with vendors who came to show their support, relaxing on the green grass, enjoying the fresh summer air, listening to stories, and relishing in the friendships they have.
This is why we’re here.
As a reporter, I’ve covered their stories in the newspapers. I raise awareness to their cause and their struggles to be seen as equal. It is frustrating when they are not, and I can never understand how that makes them feel, but I can be a voice that says, “Enough. They are my equal.”
It would be nice for me to never have to write another story, for people to see others for who they are – a human being trying to get by on this little rock called Earth. I come to Panhandle Pride to show my support for friends and for strangers, to say, no matter who you are, I will support you and stand with you if no one else will.
This is why I’m here.
Rick Myers
Nice story. We arrived a bit late but saw some wonderful talent and experienced much enthusiasm.
Cricket Simmons
I love it—straight but not narrow.