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Carole Gillespie is a U.S. history teacher and a graduate student at Gettysburg College studying American history. She lives in Skowhegan and writes about democracy, Black history, community, and the lived experiences of LGBTQ+ people in Maine.
I was born and raised in Maine. I moved away for a few years, but I returned to the state I love most. Every June since 1985 I have watched LGBTQ+ people gather to celebrate survival, community, and fight for dignity. Every June, a familiar chorus rises in response with a mix of outrage, moral panic, and claims that Pride is being “forced” on the public. But if you listen closely, I think you’ll notice something important: The loudest anti-LGBTQ+ voices aren’t speaking from faith. They speak from politics.
Real faith doesn’t need a stage. Political performance does.
In my own community, I keep reading about the burnout marks and tire tracks across the rainbow crosswalk in Bangor. A symbol that was meant to welcome people who have spent their lives being told they don’t belong and to honor Charlie Howard. The vandalism is predictable, but the comments that follow are even more revealing. “Why do they need a whole month?” What about other groups such as Veterans and Christians? “Why is Pride shoved in our faces?”
While all groups are entitled to celebrate or honor their cause, the truth is simple: Pride isn’t the only thing celebrated for a month. We have Men’s Health Month in June, Breast Cancer Awareness Month in October, American Heart Month and Black History Month in February. No one accuses those observances of being “forced” on anyone. No one leaves burnout marks on a pink ribbon or a heart-health banner. Only the rainbow seems to provoke this level of anger — and that to me says far more about the people doing the damage than it does about LGBTQ+ people.
If a rainbow painted on pavement feels like a threat, the problem isn’t the rainbow.
Some commenters insist the rainbow “belongs to Christianity.” But if someone wants to lean on the Bible to claim ownership of a color spectrum, then they also need to reckon with the part of that same book that says, “Love thy neighbor.” Not intimidate thy neighbor. Not burn tire marks across thy neighbor’s existence.
Real faith comforts the marginalized. Political performance targets them.
Across Maine, countless Christians — pastors, parents, congregations — support LGBTQ+ people quietly and consistently. They show up at weddings, they defend queer kids, and they practice compassion without needing applause. But that’s not the version of Christianity that often dominates headlines. Instead, we hear from political actors who use religious language as a shield for policy goals. Their goal often isn’t spiritual integrity. It’s political leverage.
Real faith asks for humility. Political performance demands attention.
Every major faith tradition teaches humility — the idea that one’s beliefs should guide personal conduct, not control someone else’s life. But political performance flips that on its head. It uses religion as a megaphone, not a mirror. It demands that LGBTQ+ people justify their existence to people with no intention of listening.
Real faith doesn’t need the government to enforce its values. Political performance can’t survive without it.
When politicians claim LGBTQ+ people are a danger to children, they’re not speaking from scripture. They’re speaking from strategy. History shows that LGBTQ+ youth are more vulnerable to homelessness, depression and violence because of stigma and rejection. Yet, political actors continue to use queer and trans people as symbols in a culture war that has nothing to do with children’s safety and everything to do with mobilizing voters.
Real faith protects children. Political performance exploits them.
I believe Pride Month exposes the difference. It shows us who stands with LGBTQ+ people in life, and who only shows up when there’s a camera, a microphone, or a bill to introduce. Real faith shows up with casseroles, not press conferences. Real faith listens before it speaks. Real faith doesn’t fear queer people, it embraces them.
The problem isn’t religion. The problem is the people who use religion as a prop.