There will always be a need for the LGBT community to bare its soul on Pride day

In the dim, 2am lamplight of Washington St, my fingers fumble over my shirt buttons. Anxiety penetrates through inebriation.
I know it is not safe to be outside dressed like this. On the dancefloor of Chambers, I was a show-off — here, I shrink. After a minute’s struggle, my drunken digits succeed in closing the demure shirt fabric over my lurid pink crop top. Phew! Safe at last.