The word is 'pride'," the boyfriend told me during our long-distance video call last evening. It was hard to swallow. It's always a challenge when someone you love and who loves you holds a mirror up to you, compelling you to re-examine and question something fundamental to your personality and identity. I had to confront this piece of information. I've been focussing so much on self-doubt and empowerment, I hadn't been negotiating the complexities of my pride.

So last night, after his call, I decided to introspect. I'd relegated the word pride to queer parades. I love the insinuation of taking pride in an elemental part of one's identity, especially when it is non-mainstream and non-heteronormative. I had to agree, though, that because I had begun to derive a sense of pride in my pursuit of independence and autonomy, I had inadvertently positioned myself as someone more comfortable with helping others and accruing their gratitude, thus actively discouraging others from assisting me in moments when I felt most precarious.