why we waited 3 years to hang our pride flag
speaking up in a town that makes it so easy to be silent
In my final post of 2023 I asked you, my readers, what you’d like to see me write about in 2024. One reader, Cary, said this: “I would like you to write about what you think and what you expect other people think when you or they see a rainbow flag flying outside a church. I hope you think it’s a sign of welcome to all.”
Thanks for this suggestion, Cary! I love to hear from readers in the comments. You are the Mommy Say F*ck community, and I value your experiences, thoughts, and feedback. So, please, comment away! Now, onto this week’s post.
We waited three years before we felt comfortable enough to hang a pride flag outside of our house. We live in a conservative town with Missouri Synod Lutheran roots, and an overwhelming majority of the population votes red.
When we moved back to Frankenmuth from New York City, it was important to me to establish a relationship with our neighbors outside of any preconceived stereotypes they may associate with a rainbow flag. I wanted us to get to know each other before we hung the flag so that they could see it is possible for nice people to vote blue, hang a pride flag, and defy whatever lies or insults Fox News tells them about people like us. (Seriously, such a dehumanizing news source, and one that is undoubtedly contributing to the rise in hate crimes, but that’s a post for another day.)
I hate that it comes down to this, that I had to strategize before hanging a flag in my hometown, but the divisiveness between political parties and the surge of anti-LGBTQ hate crimes is at an all-time high right now, according to the FBI’s Annual Crime Report. It is now more dangerous and more important than ever for allies to speak up in support of our LGBTQ friends and community.
I’m guessing most people in conservative Midwest America do not think of the pride flag as a sign of welcome to all.
I know many people who fear the pride flag, especially if they belong to a religious organization that believes gay people are going to hell and rainbows only belong at the end of everyone’s favorite genocidal flood story.
I know people who believe the rainbow flag is propaganda for some “gay agenda.”
I know people who laugh at the pride flag and everything that it stands for. And I know people who are repulsed by it.
In fact, I’ve encountered two of these people since hanging it. I was hanging Christmas lights last month when a vehicle drove by, flipped me off through their open window, and yelled, “F*ck that shit!” On a separate occasion, as I was loading my kids into the car, one man slowed down, rolled down his window, and spit into our driveway as he stared down the pride flag and drove by.
It's hard to speak up in a place that makes it so easy to be silent. And if I’m being entirely honest, it’s unsettling and even scary at times. This isn’t Ann Arbor or Saugatuck. This isn’t San Francisco or Seattle. This is Frankenmuth, Michigan and the vibe is religious and red. There aren’t pride flags hanging in storefronts up and down Main Street, although I’d love to see this happen! And there are only a few other houses around town that hang a rainbow flag or put up a yard pendant to show their support.
For anyone who is new to my work, unfamiliar with my background, or wondering why I’m still living in a town where my views are drastically different than most people around me, the short answer is this: I grew up here, and while I would love to live in a progressive city where I jive with the majority, places like Frankenmuth need people who are willing to speak out and speak up for the minority. And I want to be one of them.
In our family, we believe the pride flag means, “Everybody can be who they are and love who they love.”
We want to be a safe place for LGBTQ friends who may not have support. We want to replicate what we love so much about visiting Ferndale and other queer-friendly cities. We love seeing pride flags at indie bookstores, vegan restaurants, churches, and local coffee shops, and we intentionally seek those places out, so it is important for us to be that space for others, too. Most importantly, we want our boys to grow up normalizing and celebrating the pride flag and everything that it stands for.
The day our pride flag came in the mail, Loren was so excited to hang it. In our family, we believe the pride flag means, “Everybody can be who they are and love who they love.” We’ve used that as our mantra for inclusivity, love, and celebrating differences since the kids were babies. Now that Loren is three, he’s able to recite this mantra all by himself: “Everybody can be who they are and love who they love.”
I’d love to see more pride flags in Frankenmuth, and I’d especially love to see a Unitarian Universalist Church settle in and hang a pride flag outside of their church so there’d be an affirming and inclusive religious presence in town, but until that day comes, we will continue to hang our pride flag, a reminder for our family and a message to our community, that you are welcome here, and you are safe here. In this house, you can be who you are and love who you love.
If you’ve been thinking about hanging a pride flag (get a free one here!), maybe this is your nudge to do so. And if you’re one of those holding negative associations with the flag, ask yourself why. We need more acceptance and love in the world, and hanging a flag is a small, but powerful place to start.
I live here, too, and I love seeing a few Pride flags in town. I have one, as well, and it's so nice to know I'm not alone here. There are things I love about small town living because I can't handle busyness, but the politics are not one of them.
Thank you, Chelsea. I have shared this with my church friends. It is very helpful to hear someone outside of our circle talk about the significance of the rainbow flag, no matter where it flies.