By Densil R. Porteous (he/they), Executive Director, Stonewall Columbus
As we step into Black History Month, we are called to remember not only the stories of the past, but the unfinished work of the present—the ongoing pursuit of dignity, autonomy, and belonging.
Black history is not static. It is not a closed chapter or a set of commemorative moments. It is a living, breathing narrative shaped by resistance, creativity, grief, joy, and relentless insistence on being fully human in a world that has too often tried to deny that humanity. To reflect on Black history honestly is to sit with complexity—and to acknowledge how deeply questions of freedom, power, and self-determination remain unresolved.
This year, that reflection carries added resonance.
In June, the Stonewall Columbus Pride Festival & Resource Fair will take place on June 19 and 20—Juneteenth. That convergence is not incidental. Juneteenth marks the delayed announcement of “freedom” to enslaved Black people in Texas—more than two years after the Emancipation Proclamation had already been issued. It is a moment worth honoring, but it is also a moment that reminds us of a difficult truth: freedom has often arrived too late, unevenly, conditionally—and has never been enough on its own.
Freedom can be given.
Liberation is a birthright.
That distinction matters.
Freedom is something systems can grant—or withhold. It can be shaped by law, limited by policy, and revoked by those in power. Liberation, on the other hand, is something people claim, live into, and protect for one another—even when the world resists it. Liberation is not bestowed. It is practiced.
Pride, at its core, has always been about that act of claiming. It is the refusal of invisibility. The rejection of shame. The insistence that our lives, our bodies, our families, and our joy are not conditional on acceptance or approval. Pride is not simply a celebration of rights gained; it is a declaration of liberation lived.
Liberation does not require permission.
It does not wait for consensus.
It is not undone by a vote.
This understanding sits at the heart of Stonewall Columbus’s work.
For decades, our organization has existed not only to mark progress, but to invest in the conditions that make liberation sustainable. That work is not abstract. It happens through programs and partnerships, through advocacy and care, through showing up consistently—even when the political climate shifts or support wavers.
Through our Pride 365 commitment, we affirm that visibility and belonging cannot be seasonal. Through our Family Pride Network, we support LGBTQ+ people who are building families and expanding what family can look like. Through our C.A.R.E.S. navigation services, we help community members access critical resources in moments of vulnerability and transition. And through The Center, our physical space we have held on High Street for decades, we strive to offer a place of connection, safety, and affirmation in the heart of our city.
This work exists at an intersection—between Black history and queer history, between freedom promised and liberation pursued, between what has been granted and what must still be claimed.
As we move through Black History Month and toward an intersectional Pride season, we are invited to ask deeper questions. What does it truly mean to thrive? Who gets to define freedom? And how do we ensure that our movements do not stop at inclusion, but press toward transformation?
Thriving is not accidental. It is built—together—through responsibility, care, courage, and compassion. It is sustained by community and strengthened by accountability. And it requires us to remain clear-eyed about the work still ahead, even as we honor how far we have come.
This June, as Pride and Juneteenth meet, we will celebrate joy. We will gather in community. We will honor resilience. And we will recommit ourselves to the work of liberation—not as an abstract ideal, but as a daily practice rooted in love, justice, and collective care.
