It saddens us that across the country, corporate sponsors and politicians are abandoning their support for Pride Month during this historical moment.
If we’re honoring the true spirit of Pride, we have to tell the truth: Our government has never been a reliable ally of the LGBTQ+ community. Not during the early years of queer resistance, not during the HIV/AIDS crisis, not during the fight for marriage equality and not today.
It should come as no surprise that the Wisconsin GOP and the national Republican Party have spent the last half-decade aggressively targeting LGBTQ+ people. What should surprise and alarm us — is how quickly many national Democrats are backpedaling on trans rights to appear “more electable.”
That abandonment is a familiar pattern.
Let’s not forget: marriage equality was only recognized in Wisconsin less than 11 years ago, in October 2014 — and only after a federal court forced the state’s hand. Before that, our state constitution explicitly banned gay marriage and civil unions, thanks to a 2006, less than two decades ago, referendum that passed with 59% support. That same year, current Wisconsin congressman and former state senator Glenn Grothman warned that teaching about gay people in schools would promote a homosexual “agenda."
That wasn’t fringe — it was standard talking points from Wisconsin’s Republican leadership.
Scott Walker, former governor who still has a major influence in state politics, was one of the most outspoken opponents of same-sex marriage. He publicly supported the ban in 2006, opposed federal rulings to overturn it in 2014, and actively campaigned on denying marriage rights to LGBTQ+ Wisconsinites. Walker may not be in office today, but his protégés and allies are still in power — and still using his playbook.
Jeremy Thiesfeldt, a former Republican lawmaker who served in the Assembly until 2022, publicly opposed the landmark Obergefell ruling.
Grothman, Thiesfeldt, Walker — these names still carry political weight in Wisconsin. And their anti-queer ideology never changed. What did change — temporarily — was the culture. Between 2014 and 2020, public support for LGBTQ+ rights grew. By 2022, almost three out of four Wisconsinites supported same-sex marriage. Suddenly, being vocally homophobic became politically risky. So many of these politicians went quiet — not because they evolved, but because they were forced to.
But the political right didn’t disappear. It simply shifted tactics.
Instead of targeting the whole LGBTQ+ community, they zoomed in on trans people — particularly trans youth — and recycled the same tired "protect the children" rhetoric they used decades ago. First, it was: “Protect kids from gay teachers.” Then it was: “Protect kids from gay parents.” Now it’s: “Protect kids from drag queens and trans healthcare.”
Sound familiar?
The lie they tell is the same one Grothman told in 2010. The same one Anita Bryant and Jerry Falwell used in the 1980s. And now, it’s coming from groups like Moms for Liberty, an organization that has popped up at Wisconsin school board meetings with deep funding and national backing, claiming to be grassroots while pushing censorship, book bans, and anti-trans policies. Almost 600 anti-LGBTQ+ bills have been introduced nationally so far during the 2025 legislative session.
Since the pandemic, Wisconsin has mirrored this national trend. In the last legislative session alone, lawmakers in the majority party introduced bills to:
- Ban gender-affirming care for minors
- Increase legal risk for gender-affirming care providers
- Block trans youth and adults from playing sports
- Explicitly allow conversion therapy to continue
- Limit student access to books deemed “harmful,” that could target LGBTQ+ content
- Require teachers to ignore students’ chosen names and pronouns
- Criminalize librarians and teachers for distributing “obscene material” to minors
- Require incarcerated trans people to be housed based on their sex assigned at birth
Furthermore, the Supreme Court ruled on June 18, 2025 in US v. Skrmetti to allow politicians’ targeting of transgender youth’s healthcare needs to stand. In a painful setback for trans rights, this ruling limits constitutional challenges that could be raised if Wisconsin passes a ban on gender-affirming care for trans youth.
These moves aren’t just symbolic. They’re designed to erase queer and trans people from public life. They’re meant to shame, isolate, and endanger — and they’ve created a climate where physical violence, mental health crises, and suicidality are on the rise for trans youth in Wisconsin.
Meanwhile, some national Democrats have gone quiet, avoiding the trans rights conversation altogether, worried about “swing voters” or “independent moderates.” But let’s be clear: rights that politicians only defend when it’s convenient are not rights at all.
The truth is: cultural acceptance has always been what drives policy change — not the moral courage of politicians. When the public shifted to support marriage equality, the politicians followed. When queer and trans people became more visible in mainstream culture, the laws began to change. But when cultural support wavers, the politicians disappear.
We’re seeing it happen in real time. Support for trans people is declining. Support for broader LGBTQ+ rights has dipped in some recent surveys. The people who never truly supported us are feeling emboldened again — and they’re acting on it.
So where does that leave us?
Let’s be clear: we’ve been here before.
After the Stonewall Riots in 1969, the queer rights movement gained serious traction. The ‘70s saw unprecedented organizing, cultural visibility, and political momentum — much of it led by Black and Brown queer people. Disco culture, rooted in queer nightlife, gave the queer community a voice in mainstream society. In 1973, homosexuality was finally removed from the DSM. In 1977, Harvey Milk became the first openly gay elected official in California. There was movement. There was hope.
Then came the backlash.
In the 1980s, right-wing campaigns like Anita Bryant’s Save the Children and Jerry Falwell’s Moral Majority turned Christian nationalism into a weapon against queer people. The AIDS epidemic hit, and the federal government let us die. Reagan didn’t say the word “AIDS” publicly until thousands were already gone. Hospitals turned people away. Families abandoned their own. And the government didn’t care.
It leaves us where we’ve always been: fighting for each other. Because history shows us that every meaningful gain we’ve made has come in spite of the government — not because of it.
It wasn’t politicians who started Pride — it was trans women of color, sex workers, and street kids at Stonewall fighting off police brutality in New York. It wasn’t the state that cared for us during the AIDS crisis — it was our own communities that built clinics, fought for treatment, and buried our dead when no one else would.
And yes, that resistance lived here in Wisconsin, too.
Milwaukee followed Stonewall and has a long history of queer rights organizing throughout the early ‘70s, especially on the UWM campus. That same decade, Wisconsin became the first state in the country to ban discrimination based on sexual orientation — not because politicians had a change of heart, but because of grassroots organizing and queer people and true allies fighting for themselves.
Even Harvey Milk’s rise in California wouldn’t have been possible without the support of civil rights organizers and Black movement leaders who had already laid the blueprint for community resistance. LGBTQ+ activism has always borrowed — and built on — the tactics of the broader freedom movements that came before us.
So no, this moment isn’t new. We’ve seen this cycle before: progress, backlash, /silence from supposed allies, and then a return to community strength.
What we’re experiencing now — hundreds of anti-LGBTQ+ bills, rising public hostility, and eroding rights — feels terrifying. But it’s also a moment we’ve prepared for. Because we’ve survived worse.
We’ve lived through silence and stigma. We’ve lived through targeted police surveillance. We’ve lived through politicians who would rather let us die than say our names. And we’re still here.
So this Pride, let’s be clear-eyed. The government isn’t here to save us. Not in D.C. Not in Madison. Not in your hometown city council. But we can save each other — and we always have.
The government never had our back.
Pride is a protest. Pride is a warning. Pride is a promise.
