For All Parents During Pride (One Year Later)

A reflection on belonging, safety, and what it means to build a home where every child is seen, known, and loved without condition.

I have a million things I’d love to say during Pride Month. How expansive and vibrant my life has become alongside the LGBTQIA+ community, how much I’ve learned from them, how generous they are. How they have given the world a Masterclass in resiliency. I could gush for infinity.

But I decided to narrow my effusive ramblings to a specific audience this year, because some of them might be listening to me, and I don’t want to waste the chance.

Last year, I wrote this blog for Pride 2025. I reread it recently and realized I still stand by every word. If anything, I feel more urgency now. Another year of conversations with LGBTQIA+ kids, parents, pastors, teachers, therapists, and advocates has only deepened my conviction: the safest thing a child can have is not certainty from their parents. It’s belonging.

Sorry for getting granular, but this is for you if:

You think you might have a gay kid.

You have a kid (because gay kids live silently inside millions of families).

Your kid has gay friends.

Your kid has friends (because same).

Republicans have gay kids. Southern Baptists have gay kids. People in Alabama have gay kids. Preachers have gay kids. GOP elected officials have gay kids. Country folks have gay kids. Families of color have gay kids. Macho dads have gay kids. Church people have gay kids. It’s not just us Woke Libs™ who obviously turned our sons gay by letting them play with dolls.

My point is this: whether you suspect it or not, you very well might have a gay kiddo in your house right this second.

And they are listening to every word you say.

They absolutely know if you feel disgust toward the LGBTQIA+ community. They totally hear the gay jokes. They see how you talk about queer characters and commercials. They clock what other people are allowed to say under your roof. They absorb every word your pastor says from the pulpit, and they register your agreement whether overtly or simply with your sustained commitment to a religious space where queer people are disparaged and excluded.

It is very obvious to them whether they will be safe in your home or not.

Here’s something I understand better now than I did when I first wrote this: kids are not waiting for perfect language. They are watching for evidence. They are gathering clues. Every comment, every church choice, every conversation at the dinner table becomes data. They are asking one question over and over again: “Will I still belong if you know the whole truth about me?”

What we need are families committed to becoming safe before they know they need to be. Every mom and dad in America should act like one of their kids is gay.

How would the language of your home change?

Where would you go to church?

What would you stop allowing?

What hard conversations would you have with your mom and uncle and sister?

How would you vote?

Where would you march?

What would you fight for?

What would you say?

Can you imagine the relief and joy a gay kid in the closet would experience if their parent started saying:

I love you exactly how you are.

I will love whoever you love.

We don’t allow homophobic language in this house.

Your gay friends are welcome and loved here.

You will always be safe with me.

We will choose a church where queer people are affirmed.

I have your back.

I have your friends’ backs.

You can tell me anything.

And let me add one more sentence to the list: You do not have to earn your belonging here.

We need safe homes for gay kids to come out in long before they are ready to do so. We need places of refuge for their gay friends who know they will be rejected by their own families. Our LGBTQIA+ kids should not have to imagine traumatizing rejection for one second. They should not lay awake terrified of their own parents, afraid to jeopardize their own belonging in the family. They should not sit in church afraid someone might notice the gay on them.

Why would we want our kids to suffer like that?

And hey, maybe they are straight as a Kansas highway, but even then, all you’ve done is teach your kids how to be a good human.

I didn’t get this right soon enough. I had no idea a little baby gay was living upstairs watching her parents reckon with a theology that harmed queer people so completely. I didn’t know she was terrified of her own truth, of her good standing, of harming our Christian careers. We contended ferociously with non-affirming doctrine and finally got there, but not before we terrorized our own daughter. To this day when I think about it, I could full body sob.

The older I get, the less interested I am in defending my intentions and the more interested I am in reckoning with impact. I know we loved our daughter. I also know she carried fear that no child should ever have to carry. Both things can be true. That realization changed me forever.

Be safe now. Go ahead and create a house that functions as a harbor now. Let’s build safe homes in every small county, every Bible Belt town, every block around any given church. We can, literally, make a safer world for LGBTQIA+ kids. As their protections and safe spaces are being eliminated in real time, we will simply create the world they deserve. Because no DEI initiative on earth is as powerful as having parents who loved and affirmed you.

And if all of this feels overwhelming, let me offer the same reassurance I now give parents every day: perfection is not required. Start with one conversation. One apology. One new thing learned. One declaration of unconditional love. Kids do not need perfect parents. They need parents who keep showing up.

Make this choice now, because it might matter more than imaginable to the precious, beloved, beautiful child you tucked into bed last night.

And if your child is not LGBTQIA+? Then you’ve still built a home where every person who walks through your front door knows what love feels like. There is no downside to that kind of safety.

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A Conversation About Love, Truth, and What I Missed

If you’d like to hear this from a kid’s perspective, you can listen to my most downloaded podcast episode of all time: A Moment of Pride: Jen and Sydney Hatmaker on Being Gay and Loved.

In this episode, Sydney bravely and tenderly shares how she grappled with reconciling her sexuality and her spirituality, all the while wondering if God would still love her if she decided to build a life where she could be who she was meant to be.

We candidly discuss Sydney’s initial silent journey and my deep regret at not being more aware of what my daughter needed during these early days as Sydney wrestled alone with who she was.

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The Course I Wish I'd Had Sooner - $25 this month.

Because of the mistakes I made in this journey with Sydney, I decided to create a Me Course for parenting teens and tweens in the LGBTQIA+ community a couple of years ago — all in partnership with the amazing Sara Cunningham of Free Mom Hugs and also the incredible Isaac Archuleta, LPC (he/they) of iAmClinic.

Today, use code PRIDE25 at checkout to get this course for $25 (regularly $69)!

This online, on-demand course is not just for parents, though, it’s for teachers, allies, family members, faith leaders… anyone.

Learn more and get the course here.

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A Free Guide for Loving Your LGBTQIA+ Kid Well

If you’re parenting an LGBTQIA+ kid and you want a real starting place, I made something for you.

I created a free resource guide with Sara Cunningham and Isaac Archuleta specifically for parents who want to show up well but don’t know where to begin. No Ph.D. required. No perfect theology required. Just a genuine desire to love your kid better than the silence does.

👉 Get the free guide here

You don’t have to have it all figured out. You just have to take one step.

xo, Jen

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