How the Stonewall Uprising Sparked the Spirit of PRIDE
Rahel Atalay
Photo by: Fred W. McDarrah
When you see the rainbows painted on crosswalks, the parades full of glitter and music, and the brands suddenly sporting rainbow logos every June, it can be easy to forget what PRIDE really stands for. Yes, Pride Month is a celebration — but it was born from a fight. And that fight? It began on a hot summer night in New York City at a little dive bar called the Stonewall Inn.
Let’s take it back to 1969. At the time, being queer was criminalized. Police raids on gay bars were common, and LGBTQ+ people — especially those who were Black, Brown, transgender, or gender nonconforming — were routinely harassed, beaten, and arrested simply for existing. The Stonewall Inn, located in the heart of Greenwich Village, was one of the few places queer folks could gather safely (well, somewhat safely — it was still run by the mafia and subject to frequent raids).
But on the night of June 28, 1969, something shifted.
A Spark in Greenwich Village
It began like so many nights before: with police barging into the Stonewall Inn, demanding IDs, shoving people around, arresting those who didn’t “look” like the gender on their driver’s license. But this time, the community’s patience had snapped.
While accounts differ, many believe it was Stormé DeLarverie — a biracial butch lesbian, drag king performer, and a known presence in the NYC queer scene — who may have thrown the first punch or shout that stirred the crowd. According to witnesses, she was handcuffed and hit over the head by officers. Bleeding and bruised, she looked out at the crowd and allegedly yelled:
“Why don’t you guys do something?”
– Stormé DeLarverie
The Uprising
That moment — defiant, wounded, loud — was the spark that lit a fire. Soon, the scene around Christopher Street erupted.
People began resisting. Bricks were thrown. Trash cans were lit. Drag queens fought back with their heels. Bottles shattered. Hundreds gathered that first night, refusing to be shamed back into the shadows. Police were forced to barricade themselves inside the bar to escape the crowd’s fury — a dramatic reversal of power.
In the summer of 1969, activists filled the streets of lower Manhattan, igniting a new era of resistance and visibility in the fight for LGBTQ+ rights following the events at Stonewall.(Photo: Leonard Fink/The LGBT Community Center National History Archive)
Over the course of the next six days, the uprising continued. LGBTQ+ people from all walks of life flooded the area. There were chants. There were flames. There was joy. There was rage. And in the middle of it all were two fierce trans women of color: Marsha P. Johnson, a Black trans activist and drag queen, and her close friend Sylvia Rivera, a Latina trans advocate. These activist icons stood on the frontlines, organizing, shouting, and surviving. Together, they later co-founded STAR (Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries), one of the first shelters and advocacy groups for homeless trans youth.
Marsha P. Johnson radiates pride and power as captured by photographer Barbara Alper during the 1982 NYC Pride Parade—a timeless image of queer liberation and joy.(Photo: Barbara Alper / Getty Images)
This wasn’t just a one-night scuffle. This was a revolution — a breaking point in a long history of erasure and abuse. The Stonewall Uprising (sometimes called the Stonewall Riots) marked the birth of the modern LGBTQ+ liberation movement.
From Stonewall to PRIDE
This wasn’t just a one-night scuffle. This was a revolution — a breaking point in a long history of erasure and abuse. The Stonewall Uprising (or Stonewall Riots), as they came to be known, marked the birth of the modern LGBTQ+ liberation movement.
“It was a rebellion, it was an uprising, it was a civil rights disobedience– it wasn’t no damn riot”
– Stormé DeLarverie
Other key figures helped shape this moment into a lasting movement. Miss Major Griffin-Gracy, a Black trans elder and fierce advocate for incarcerated trans women, was arrested that night and went on to become a lifelong voice for the most vulnerable in our community. And Craig Rodwell, a white gay activist and bookstore owner, helped organize the very first Christopher Street Liberation Day March on June 28, 1970 — a direct response to Stonewall and the beginning of what we now call the Pride March.
And while we may never know exactly who threw the first punch, what’s undeniable is that the Stonewall Uprising was ignited by the most marginalized among us — Black and Brown trans women, lesbians, queer youth, and drag performers — whose bravery made it possible for us to be loud, proud, and seen today.
PRIDE Today
What started as protest has since transformed into a powerful, global celebration of love, identity, resistance, and community. But don’t get it twisted — the spirit of Stonewall is still alive. Pride isn’t just a party. It’s a reminder that visibility is revolutionary, especially for Black and Brown LGBTQ+ folks who are still disproportionately targeted by violence, discrimination, and political attacks.
Activists from ACT UP staged a powerful ‘die-in’ in 1992, spotlighting the urgent shortage of hospital beds for AIDS patients. (Photo: Kate Callas/Fairfax Media/Getty Images)
The movement sparked at Stonewall was led by voices often left out of the spotlight — and it’s those voices we must continue to uplift.
So as we pop out for Pride this June, dancing in sequins, waving flags, and kissing in public without fear, let’s honor the legacy of the Stonewall Uprising not just in rainbow fits, but in our fight for equity and liberation. Let’s donate to grassroots queer orgs. Protect our trans siblings. Speak out against anti-LGBTQ+ legislation. And show up — not just in June, but always.
The first Pride was led by Black and Brown trans women who dared to demand freedom.
Because Pride isn’t just a party, it’s a protest born in the flames of resistance. And it started right here, in New York City— with bricks, with bravery, and with the bold belief that love is worth fighting for.
