My first experiences with organized Pride were in New York City in 1990. I was overwhelmed by the transcendent joy and solidarity of my first big parade. I danced in the streets until the wee hours after the parade ended.

I did see a few vendor booths, but they were mostly limited to a roped off area, and they were anything but the focus of the events.

Decades later, I was shocked to go to Detroit's Pride Festival and learn that the entire event was about vendors, almost none of whom seemed to be queer, selling things to queer people.

I managed to have something of a good time, but my feelings were overwhelmingly negative. I later wrote about it an essay called Bud Light and Funnel Cakes.

I hope someday you can go to the kind of Pride event that I love, that's not about capitalism and vending opportunities, but about a community of LGBTQ people coming together in love.

I know this can be really difficult in small towns and rural areas. I won't be going to Pride this year where I live in rural Michigan, because there's nothing worth going to. It's not anybody's fault, there just aren't enough of us around here.

But I'll make my own Pride by reaching out to friends and loved ones, immersing myself in queer culture, and of course by writing about Pride as the joyful opposite of shame.