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I spent the morning out in the suburban area I'm staying in right now, Oak Park, with my friend Chloe, her mom, and my roomate Sylvia. We went to see the live-action Aladdin remake, which was actually really good. They changed enough to keep you wondering what would happen, but kept true enough to the original story that it didn't feel like a betrayal. After the movie, we stopped in a bookstore across the street, The Book Table. There were a lot of interesting books, but the thing that caught my eye and absolutely floored me was the small display of pride flags in the window.

Honestly, the display wasn't anything fancy. It was just a couple plastic bins filled to the brim with pride flags, but it was filled to the brim. There were so many pride flags, some I didn't even recognize. With shaking hands, I picked up my own pride flag, the bi pride flag. It was the first time I'd ever seen one in person, not just in a picture or a drawing. It was a real, tangible thing. I didn't expect how much it would affect me. I felt like I was in a daze for the next five or ten minutes. I put the flag back and wandered, almost lost in this incredibly small space. When Chloe came in, back from feeding the meter, I pointed it out to her with hands that still shook. To Chloe, who grew up here, this was perfectly normal, but she understood what it meant to me. She let me stutter in awe for a few minutes, then hugged me and asked if I was going to get one. I realized how much I would regret it if I didn't, and I went back to the bin and made sure I picked out the first bi pride flag I had ever touched, feeling some satisfaction in holding onto it for a while before putting it in my bag. It was so satisfying to feel like I could carry it and no one would say anything to me.

There have been a lot of little things like that ever since I got to Chicago. My landmark for getting back to the house I'm staying at right now while I'm still getting my bearings is the house across the street with the big rainbow flag. The sign in the picture is in the yard a few houses down. Still, nothing compared to the feeling of actually seeing my own pride flag for the first time. I don't want to act like where I'm from is terrible for me being bi. It's just really nice to go from grudging acceptance (we know we can't change this about you and that's okay) to enthusiastic acceptance (this is who you are and we're proud of you). My little bi pride flag is sitting on top of my headboard now.

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