Action is a powerful word.
One that asks you to stop worrying, stop overthinking, and do something — to be deliberate, intentional, and present.
And right now, that hasn’t felt easy.
There’s a lot happening in our country. A lot of uncertainty. A lot of anger. And layered on top of that, I’ve been navigating some very real personal challenges at work. All of it has made it surprisingly hard to focus on something that usually gives me joy and purpose: planning our corgi contingent for Pride.
Last year, our message came easily.
Finding Joy wasn’t just a theme — it was something we felt together.
On Market Street.
With our corgis.
Surrounded by love, visibility, and a whole lot of cheering strangers.
In the context of last year’s Pride theme — Queer Joy Is Resistance — it fit perfectly. Showing up with our corgis, our community, and a sense of celebration felt like a meaningful response to everything happening around us.
This year feels different.
When I first sat with this year’s Pride theme — Resistance in Action — my reaction wasn’t excitement. It was guilt.
I found myself wondering whether I’ve done enough. Whether worrying, watching, commenting, and staying informed actually counts as action at all. Whether sitting with anger — or paying attention — is meaningful if it doesn’t turn into something tangible.
“Resistance in Action” can mean many things.
Marching in the Pride parade is an act of resistance.
Showing up at a protest is an act of resistance.
Even visibility — simply being seen — can be an act of resistance.
And yet, I suspect many of us are carrying the same quiet question:
Is this enough?
That question has been weighing on me.
And it’s why I don’t want this year — or this parade — to feel heavy. Not with guilt. Not with doubt. Not with the sense that we haven’t done enough.
Instead, I want this year to be about creating opportunities for action — together — in the weeks leading up to Pride. So that when we step onto Market Street on June 28th, we do so grounded, intentional, and showing up with big pride.
I want our group to feel that we’re not just celebrating a single moment. That we’re carrying stories with us — postcards written, donations made, conversations started. Small, imperfect actions that may not change everything on their own, but matter when taken together.
Because action doesn’t have to be perfect to be real.
It doesn’t have to be loud to count.
And it doesn’t have to be solitary.
Marching with a group of corgis isn’t resistance in the traditional sense. We’re not leading chants or shaping policy. But it is resistance in action in its own way.
It’s choosing presence when retreat would be understandable.
It’s choosing a community when isolation would be easier.
It’s choosing to take up space — joyfully, visibly, and together.
For some of us, Pride is deeply personal. For others, it may be a first. And for many, it’s simply about being there — about saying: you belong, and you have a right to be here.
These moments matter.
In the weeks ahead, keep an eye on our calendar. I’ll be sharing optional opportunities where we can volunteer, take action, and make a difference — sometimes even with our corgis. There’s no pressure to participate. And if you’re already involved in something you’d like to invite others into, let me know — we can talk about whether it’s a fit for our group.
Last year, we found joy and named the importance of resistance.
Joy is still resistance.
Community is still resistance.
And this year, showing up — together, with big pride — is resistance in action.
We’re proud to march again.
We’re proud to do it with our corgis.
And we’re proud to do it with joy.
🌈🐾
Derek & Lia