That is all to say there is exactly one piece of inspiring LGBT content that matters to me, and, like many queer millennials, I revisit it fondly once a year.
Let me drink my roadie of vodka soda, dance to a cacophony of Lady Gaga songs booming from various speakers, and get sunburned while scrolling through thirst traps in peace, as the revolutionists intended. Listen, I would rather weigh in on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict than get embroiled in the annual, insufferable discourse about the cynical commercialization of Pride Month, the brief tokenization of visibility, and who, what, and how much leather bondage belongs at marches and parades.
