Pride, Porch Lights, and the Cost of Silence

A Piedmont reflection by Ol’ Big Jim

Now, y’all know I ain’t never used this blog as a political soapbox. I reckon today we’ll do something a little bit different, though. This second post for today is something deeply personal that I want to share with you. That being said, here goes.

Today, I’ll tell you something plain, and I won’t dress it up in lace or apology. A man can spend a powerful long time pretending to be somebody he ain’t. I ought to know. I did it.

The Years of Quiet

I came up in a time when folks didn’t just disapprove of a man like me; they had whole systems built to make sure you never forgot it. The 50s and 60s weren’t kind to boys who noticed the wrong things.

You learned early:

Don’t look too long
Don’t speak too soft
Don’t stand too close
Don’t be seen

And, this above all! Don’t tell the truth about yourself.

By the time the 70s rolled around, I had a mind to come out. Not loud, not proud, just honest. I just felt like my family and friends had the right to know, and I had the right to tell ‘em. But fear has a way of sitting on your chest like a sack of wet sand.

You start asking yourself questions like:

What happens if I lose my job?
What happens if my family turns away?
What happens if someone decides I don’t deserve to walk this earth at all?

Those weren’t dramatic questions back then. They were practical ones.

The Florist Shop

Now here’s the part folks always find a little ironic when I tell the story. I worked at a florist shop for a short time. I won’t mention the name.

Yes sir. Flowers, ribbons, wedding arrangements, the whole delicate business. And I was good at it, too, because I had learned from the best in the business.

Customers asked for me by name. My arrangements sold. My boss praised my work more than once. Said I had “an eye.”

Turns out, I also had a life.

One day, out in the car park, I kissed my boyfriend goodbye. Nothing scandalous. Just a quiet moment between two people who cared about each other.

That was enough, though, I reckon. Next thing I knew, I wasn’t employed anymore.

Didn’t matter how good I was at my job. Didn’t matter how well I treated customers. Didn’t matter that I showed up, did the work, and did it right. What mattered was that I had stepped out from behind the curtain for just a second.

And somebody didn’t like what they saw.

So Why Pride?

Now here we are, all these years later, and some folks ask: “Why do we still need Pride Month?” Well, I’m just the one to tell you why.

It’s because there are still people, right now, sitting in quiet rooms, living careful lives, asking the same questions I asked fifty years ago.

Because there are still folks who can lose a job, a home, or a family for telling the truth about who they are.

Because there are still places where a simple act of affection can cost you more than it ever should.

And because silence, left alone long enough, starts to feel like the natural order of things.

Pride Ain’t About Showing Off

Pride, as I understand it, ain’t about shouting for the sake of noise. It’s about this:

Being able to stand in the daylight without fear of what might happen to you for simply being yourself.

It’s about making sure the next young man or woman, or anybody else trying to figure themselves out, doesn’t have to live their whole life in a whisper.

It’s about saying: “You don’t have to hide. Not anymore. Not if we can help it.”

A Porch Light Left On

Back in Piedmont, a porch light meant something.

It meant:

You’re welcome here
Somebody’s home
You don’t have to stand out in the dark

For a long time, folks like me lived our lives with that light turned off. Not because we wanted to. Because we knew it was safer that way.

Pride Month, to my mind, is nothing more and nothing less than turning that light back on. Letting it shine where people can see it. Letting it say, plain as day: “You belong here, same as anybody else.”

Closing

Now, I ain’t angry anymore the way I used to be. Time sands some of that down. But I do remember. ‘Course I do. I always will. And remembering has its uses.

So, if you see a rainbow this month, or a flag, or a post like this one, don’t take it as noise.

Take it as a signal.

A light in the window.

A quiet promise that fewer people will have to live the way I, and countless others, did. And that, as far as I’m concerned, is reason enough to keep it burning.

About Ol' Big Jim

Jim L. Wright is a storyteller with a lifetime of experiences as colorful as the characters he creates. Born and raised in Piedmont, Alabama, Jim’s connection to the land, history, and people of the region runs deep. His debut novel New Yesterdays is set in his hometown, where he grew up listening to stories of the past—stories that sparked his imagination and curiosity for history. Today, Jim lives in Leeds, Alabama, with his husband Zeek, a tour operator who shares his passion for adventure and discovery. Known affectionately as “Ol’ Big Jim,” he has had a diverse career that includes time as a storekeeper, an embalmer, a hospital orderly, and a medical coder. There are even whispers—unconfirmed, of course—that he once played piano in a house of ill repute. No matter the job, one thing has remained constant: Jim is a teller of tales. His stories—sometimes humorous, sometimes thought-provoking—are often inspired by his unique life experiences. Many of these tales can be found on his popular blog, Ol’ Big Jim, where he continues to share his musings with a loyal readership. Jim’s adventures have taken him far beyond Alabama. For seven years, he lived in Amman, Jordan, the world’s oldest continuously inhabited city. His time there, spent in smoky coffee shops, enjoying a hookah and a cup of tea while scribbling in his ever-present notebook, deeply influenced his worldview and his writing. When Jim isn’t writing, he’s thinking about writing. His stories, whether tall tales from his past or imaginative reimagining is of historical events should read from his past or imaginative reimaginings of historical events, reflect a life lived fully and authentically. With New Yesterdays, Jim brings readers a rich tapestry of history, fantasy, and human connection. Visit his blog at www.olbigjim.com to read more of his stories, or follow him on social media to keep up with his latest musings and projects, one of which is a series that follows Bonita McCauley, an amateur detective who gets into some very sticky situations. His book, New Yesterdays, can be found at Amazon US, Amazon UK, Smashwords, and Barnes and Noble.

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