At a recent drag brunch, a woman approached with tears in her eyes. She explained that the event was especially meaningful because she had brought her transgender child. Watching her child see people like themselves living openly and joyfully was a gift.

Moments like these are why I do this work.

As a producer of LGBTQ+ events across Connecticut, I spend my days creating spaces where people can laugh, celebrate, connect, and simply be themselves. Whether it’s a drag brunch, a comedy show, a concert, or a Pride event, I get to witness people finding community.

That sense of connection has always mattered. Today, it feels more important than ever.

On the surface, this should be a hopeful moment. Pride celebrations are growing. New people are showing up. Allies continue to stand with us. Connecticut remains one of the most welcoming states in the country for LGBTQ+ people. But not too far beneath the surface, I see something else.

Over the last year and a half, I’ve watched many people arrive at events carrying a different kind of anxiety. They are worried about attacks on transgender people. They are worried about access to health care. They are worried about whether rights and protections that once seemed secure can be taken away.

The fear isn’t coming out of nowhere. Across the country, LGBTQ+ people, especially transgender people, have become the targets of an unprecedented wave of political attacks. National leaders have questioned our identities, restricted our rights, and turned our lives into political talking points. For many LGBTQ people, the message has been unmistakable: you are less welcome than you were before.

Public acceptance appears to be moving in the wrong direction. Recent polling from Gallup found that support for LGBTQ rights and acceptance of LGBTQ people has declined from recent highs, particularly when it comes to transgender people. After decades of progress, we are now losing ground.

There is no doubt that Pride still matters. Pride is a celebration, but it has never been only a celebration. It began as a protest against exclusion, discrimination, and violence. It was built by people who understood that visibility, community, and collective action are often our best tools for survival.

So, I worry when people assume Connecticut’s work is done. Yes, our state has been a leader on LGBTQ equality. Yes, we are fortunate to live in a place where many elected officials voice support for our community. But being better than other states is not the same thing as being safe. Progress is not permanent, and rights do not protect themselves.

This legislative session presented opportunities to strengthen protections and support for LGBTQ people, particularly transgender residents. Too many of those opportunities were left on the table.

As Pride Month unfolds across Connecticut, I hope our elected leaders will see what I see every day: a resilient community that continues to show up for one another despite growing uncertainty and fear. But resilience should not be mistaken for invulnerability.

The LGBTQ community needs more than words of support. We need leaders willing to act, invest, and stand publicly with us when it matters.

This year, as acceptance shows troubling signs of slipping and fear continues to grow, I hope Connecticut chooses not to be complacent. I hope our leaders choose action over symbolism. And I hope all of us remember that the true measure of a community is not how loudly it celebrates people when times are easy, but how firmly it stands with them when times are hard.

Sky Casper of West Hartford runs an events production company in Hartford.