Pride and the Path to Healing
Understanding Queer Trauma and Fostering Collective Resilience
By Emery Rodriguez, LPC-Associate
Pride Month is often portrayed as a time of celebration—wrapped in rainbows, parades, glitter, and joy. And while celebration truly does matter, it’s important to remember that Pride was born from protest, resistance, and the fight for safety and liberation.
For many queer and trans people, especially those with intersecting marginalized identities, Pride can also bring up feelings of grief, anger, exhaustion, disconnection, and more – a confusing experience as the world around us is seemingly consumed with festivity. These feelings and experiences are often a reflection of the trauma many of us carry from simply being who we are in a world that minimizes, excludes, and discriminates against our existence.
At Selva Wellness Collective, we want to hold space not only for joy—but for truth. For the complex and layered reality of trauma in 2SLGBTQIA+ lives, and for the healing that becomes possible when we’re not only celebrated, but also seen, believed, and affirmed.
On June 28, 1970, the first Pride parade—or “Gay Liberation March,” as it was called at the time—took place in New York City. The response surprised even the parade's organizers, including Foster Gunnison and Craig Rodwell (pictured here). Now, Pride is celebrated around the world.
The Weight of Chronic Marginalization
Trauma in queer and trans communities isn’t always the result of a single event—it’s often chronic, cumulative, and systemic. It builds over time, in environments where safety is not a given, and where authenticity often comes at a cost.
For many, trauma begins early:
Growing up in unsafe or unsupportive homes where identity is shamed or punished
Attending schools that ignore or target queer and trans students through bullying, erasure, or punitive discipline
Participating in faith communities that equate queerness with sin or pathology, creating deep spiritual and relational wounds
These early experiences often set the stage for adulthood in a society that devalues queer and trans bodies, relationships, and ways of being. Discrimination in healthcare, employment, housing, and public spaces isn’t just a “barrier”—it is a form of ongoing trauma, constantly signaling that you are less worthy of dignity, safety, or care.
Even in daily life, the toll is relentless:
Microaggressions at work, in therapy, or on the street
Being misgendered, fetishized, or tokenized in spaces that claim to be inclusive
The constant pressure to mask, over-explain, or make others comfortable in order to be treated with respect
The emotional labor of educating others while navigating one’s own pain
And for queer folks who are also Black, Indigenous, disabled, neurodiverse, undocumented, fat-bodied, or low-income, these stressors are amplified by overlapping systems of oppression—racism, ableism, fatphobia, xenophobia, and classism—all of which interact with homophobia and transphobia in unique and often invisible ways.
This kind of chronic marginalization reshapes the nervous system:
It keeps many people in a prolonged state of hypervigilance, disconnection, or shutdown
It can make it hard to trust others, feel safe in one’s body, or believe that support is even possible
It may manifest as complex PTSD, depression, anxiety, or burnout—not because there is something wrong with the individual, but because the world has been consistently unsafe
And yet, mainstream conversations around trauma and mental health often leave queer and trans people out—or worse, invite us in only if we can speak about our experiences in ways that are neat, educational, or digestible for others. We are often asked to sanitize our truth to receive support, making healing yet another place where we must perform instead of simply exist.
The truth is: chronic marginalization is trauma. And naming it matters. When we name these layered, ongoing harms, we make space for the full complexity of queer and trans survival—and for the possibility of healing that honors all of who we are.
Marsha P. Johnson was a Black transgender activist, drag performer, and key figure in the 2SLGBTQ+ liberation movement. She played a pivotal role in the 1969 Stonewall uprising and went on to co-found STAR (Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries) with Sylvia Rivera, advocating for the rights and safety of trans youth, sex workers, and unhoused queer people. Her bold activism and joyful resilience made her a lasting icon in the fight for queer and trans liberation.
What Trauma-Informed and Identity-Affirming Care Looks Like
Healing from trauma requires more than just coping skills—it requires being believed, understood, and supported in the full context of your lived experience.
Actual affirming, therapeutic care looks like:
Creating spaces where all of your identities are seen as valid and essential, not “complicated”
Centering your safety, autonomy, and consent at every stage of the therapeutic process
Understanding trauma through a systems lens, not just an individual one
Supporting you in unlearning internalized shame and reconnecting with your power
Offering group and individual care that honors cultural and community-based forms of healing
Pride as a Healing Practice
To be queer or trans—and to survive—is already an act of resistance. To seek healing is another. And to imagine a life beyond survival—a life filled with connection, embodiment, rest, and joy—is nothing short of revolutionary.
This Pride Month, we hold space for your full story: the pain and the pride, the trauma and the triumph, the complexity and the wholeness.
You are not too much. You are not alone. You are worthy of healing—on your terms.
