The Queen Bees Were Buzzin´

Stumbling into Milan Pride Parade last summer was the soul kiss that stays with you.

I didn’t plan on it.
Didn’t mark it on my map.
Didn’t know that turning left just past the Duomo would land me right in the middle of something radiant, defiant, and vibrating with life.

Buzzing could best describe the sea of shining, sparkling sass that was filled to the brim with absolute queen bees…

The annual Milan Pride Parade wasn’t on my itinerary, but it unfolded around me like that page in your favorite book, the one you didn’t know you were meant to read.

Was this what my soul had been thirsting for? I couldn’t be sure, had no concrete evidence per se, but there were signs…

A lone flag tucked into a back pocket. Hearts drawn in eyeliner, scrawled across cheeks stretched taut with wide smiles. A sea of revelers, fed by a slow river of people winding through the city´s streets, daringly crossing divides.

As I stepped into this slow river, it turned into a flood.

The sound came next. Drums. Bass. DISCO. Laughter that didn’t ask for permission. The kind that started down deep, bubbled up from the caverns of the soul, then erupted, unfettered, free, and absolutely feral.

Every few steps saw a kiss, a cheer, a hand reaching out to pull someone into a dance. Ibsen´s Tarantella waltzed through my brain. It was madness, it was joy, it was divine.

It was an act of rebellion that reverberated like a sacred shout from the rafters, this holy invitation: Come to church.

I stood there watching it all stretch before me, powering through the city like a freight train of possibility.

And still, somehow, it felt gentle.

A man nestled a flower just above another’s ear, his fingers tracing the smile lines as they crinkled across his forehead.

A mother lifted her child onto her shoulders, offering a better view of all the magic, not the parade, but the people.

A stranger caught my eye and shared a smile, as if somehow, we were both in on the same secret.

“Love is love” was the wordless message exchanged.

It didn’t need to be said. Still, it was shouted.

With every pair of arms holding tight to one another. Through the exhales of deep breaths long abated — as if the world, for once, was tilting the right way.