It’s June again—Pride Month. A time to celebrate the LGBTQ+ community, honor its history, and reaffirm the truth that queer people exist, have always existed, and deserve to live and love freely. As is tradition now, every brand with a marketing team starts posting rainbow-colored content to show “support.” Some do it performatively. Others, like Sesame Street, have been consistent and sincere over the years.
So when Sesame Street posted in support of Pride Month this year, it really shouldn’t have been a big deal. A beloved kids’ show acknowledging that queer people are part of this world? That’s not radical. It’s just reality. But here we go again: the anti-LGBTQ+ crowd flooded the comments with tired outrage.
“Stop pushing this on our kids.”
“Why does everything have to be about sexuality?”
“Let children be children.”
Let’s break this down.
Because here’s the truth: when people say “don’t push sexuality on kids,” what they really mean is, “don’t let my child see anything other than heterosexuality.” No one was screaming “stop sexualizing children” when Ariel gave up her entire identity to kiss a man she just met. No one batted an eye when Beauty and the Beast portrayed a literal romantic relationship between a teenage girl and her animal-cursed captor. No one freaked out when toddlers dressed up as bride and groom for Halloween. That’s all considered “normal.”
But let a kids’ show say “Happy Pride,” or let two cartoon moms drop their kid off at school, and suddenly the pearl-clutching begins.
It’s never about kids. It’s about control.
We’ve normalized straight relationships so deeply that anything outside that mold gets labeled “sexual,” “confusing,” or “inappropriate.” But guess what? Queer people exist. Queer parents exist. Queer kids exist. And representation isn’t an adult concept—it’s a lifeline. Seeing someone like you in media can mean the difference between shame and self-worth.
And can we just call out the hypocrisy?
If you’re really against kids seeing any kind of relationship, then keep that same energy across the board. No more princesses getting saved by princes. No more boy/girl crushes in teen sitcoms. No more singing “kiss the girl” as a romantic moment. Because if you’re going to cry foul about queerness, then stop romanticizing any kind of love in kids’ content. But you won’t—because what you’re actually doing is policing queerness. You’re not protecting children. You’re protecting your comfort zone.
And don’t even get me started on the whole “they’re too young to understand” argument. Kids understand love and family in all forms. They understand friendship. They understand inclusion. You know what’s actually confusing? Growing up in a world that tells you your family doesn’t count. Or that your identity is something to be hidden. Or that you’re “too much” just for existing. That’s the real damage.
So let’s be real here: Sesame Street posting about Pride isn’t hurting anyone. In fact, it’s helping kids feel seen, affirmed, and loved. And if that makes you uncomfortable, maybe the problem isn’t with the rainbow.
Maybe it’s with you.
Happy Pride Month. To all the queer families, queer kids, and queer adults who were once those kids: you belong. And love—of any kind—is never inappropriate.
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