"I was eight at my first Pride and my two moms and I were hiding in plain sight. Most people thought my moms were sisters. It was the early '90s and it wasn't safe for queer people to be out in public, except for this day because there were so many of us.

There were people throwing bottles at marchers and others screaming slurs. A person behind me wished queers would die from AIDS. I asked my mom what that meant and she said lots of people don't like queer people and when I asked why, she said god considered it a sin. I remained in the closet for another six years because of that first march. So too in our hometown, that same treatment persisted for years. There were death threats, harassment, firecrackers thrown at us and it kept getting worse till we left.

Last weekend I took my 4- and 6-year-olds marching in Brooklyn pride in the neighborhood that saved us for the first time and they had a blast, except when homophobic people emerged from the crowd with hell and repent sinners signs, screaming at us angrily. I walked up to one with my son, looked him in the eyes and I told him I still loved him. My son asked me why I told the angry stranger I loved him and I told him lots of people don't like queer people, but I wanted to show him how humans should be treated. He already knew why people hated queer people, and why he was marching.

I wish I understood what I was seeing at eight, as I'd been told we were going to a parade. This was a protest, and we were there because they were killing us and we had to be brave and stand up for dignity and respect even when it was dangerous. I took that wish and gave my kids a crash course on Stonewall and told them people might harass us and why. I wish I knew what Pride actually was before witnessing it firsthand. I may have felt safer coming out sooner. I may have felt safer in general. I may have taken up activism and advocacy earlier."

"What I wish I had known before going to my first Pride was that people who are lumped together with you in those six bold letters may not be marching for you — and some even are oppressing you. That some men and women would judge my choices and my life as a trans person. I was confused because, as a kid of my generation, I googled and learned about Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera, who were the pioneers of the gay liberation movement. The people who they fought for, told them no, we’re not marching for you. What did Marsha and Sylvia do? They persisted, and they they marched. That’s what Pride is for me."

"Pride is all about building community and learning about the issues facing us. If your Pride has a festival where organizations have booths with information — go! It's such a great opportunity to learn about what's happening in your community, and you may even find an organization to volunteer at, donate to or otherwise support!"

"Before my first Pride, I wish I had known more about the context I was marching in — I wish I had known the actual history of queer riots and the importance of marching in solidarity with people of color, the trans people, sex workers, who have been fighting for queer rights for decades, only to be pushed back down in the name of assimilation."

"Bring a water bottle with you because it's hot in the summer and the lines can get really long for food and drinks. It's Pride, so be sure to wear rainbows or something really bright and fabulous to celebrate."

"I honestly can't remember when or where my first Pride was, though it must have been in Burlington (VT) in my teens. Over the years though, one of the things I've found most important to remember is that queer doesn't look any one way. It's easy to make assumptions about people who look "normie" at Pride, or couples that look straight to you, but people in our community come in all shapes, stripes, and styles, and 'passing' doesn't mean 'cishet.' Ace [asexual], aro [aromantic], and bi/pan people in hetero relationships all belong at Pride, and not all of us are comfortable in booty shorts, glitter, and rainbows."

"I wish I had known my LGBTQ history better before attending my first Pride. Pride started as a protest, and while we can and should celebrate our progress, we have to continue to carry the torch our queer ancestors passed down to us so that we aren't complacent with our victories. Pride is what it is today because of previous generations' struggles and their bold stances against injustice and discrimination. We should have fun at Pride, but we should be aware of why we have the privilege to do so."

"Before my first Pride, I wish I had a clearer understanding of what being an out bisexual man truly entailed. That is to say that my experiences since have showed that I occupy a liminal space between straight and gay that has often been overlooked on both ends of the sexually spectrum. Had I known, I would have been more vocal, more seen, and less complicit in my own erasure."

"My first Pride was in Memphis, TN, in the 1990s. It was the first Pride parade in Memphis, period, and at that time, the first in the Delta region (an area of TN, smack dab between Arkansas and Mississippi). What do I wish I knew beforehand? I wish I knew to take some pictures to commemorate the experience of being part of the queer community in such a large-scale gathering. I would have loved to have had a lasting memory that captured the strength and support of that day. I wish I had known that protesters would show up, and prepared myself to frame my thoughts and behavior towards people who were screaming that we were unnatural, going to hell, and getting AIDS — I wasn't prepared for all of that. Despite that bit of negativity, the entire experience was an extremely empowering first."

Whether it's your first Pride or your fifteenth, get out there this year. Wear those rainbows. Bring water. And remember everything it took to get you there.