Join my fun & free 30-day Pride Month Creativity Challenge to explore voice, identity, and belonging—together. Featuring art, poetry, and LGBTQ literature rooted in queer expression and subculture on Substack.
What is so beautiful about this prompt is 'bloom where you're planted' has been an integral part of my life, it seems forever, but from when my paternal grandmother gave my mother a fridge magnet with these words on it when we moved from Australia to Canada in the 1970s. We lived there for 2 years, from age 4 to 6 for me. It was the impetus for me to start creating and embracing the idea of flourishing (hence Flucking Flourishing) and my business name: Flourish. Blooming and flourishing, whatever your circumstances and wherever you are, is central to my life. Such a beautiful and generous month of prompts, Jay 💖
Lisa, that magnet story lands somewhere deep. I can almost feel the cool smoothness of it in your childhood hand, resting quietly on the fridge door while everything else in your world kept shifting. You turned that small phrase into a lifelong practice—and then into a name, a path, a whole language of living. “Flucking Flourishing” says it all, with mischief and muscle. I love how you carry blooming as something you do, not something that waits for perfect soil. That’s where your voice meets this prompt so vividly—it doesn’t quote the magnet, it embodies the blooming, right where you are. Thank you for participating.
WilM, I am so grateful for you saying that. Exactly so had I imagined this Challenge to be received. Opening perceptions, promoting diversity, letting ourselves be seen and heard and see and listen to other at the same time. Thank you so much for sharing it.
I believe that was when the Seed of Advocacy for Others was planted, as it was also around this time I stood up to a bully who was bothering my little brother.
Having felt the sting of words hurled at me, I know how it feels.
I will continue to strive for the day that We Just let each other Live.
Cassandra — I am so glad to see more of your words here. You speak with such clear-hearted presence. The way you traced the seed of advocacy through your own experience moved me. So often, those early wounds become the very ground where deep compassion grows. And yes — I stand with you in this: may we create spaces where we simply let one another live, fully, joyfully, in peace. That vision threads through this whole challenge, and your voice strengthens it. Thank you for sharing this piece of your story — I look forward to reading more from you here.
—Jay 🌈🪶
Thank you for your contribution to #PrideOnThePage Day 1 NAME
I was called “gifted and talented,” but aren’t we all?
I’ve been called “too sensitive” because I have strong emotional reactions and can’t bear to see innocent people harmed or killed, even in a fictional horror movie
I’ve been called “wise beyond my years” (when I was a teenager adults trusted and confided in)
I’ve been called “pastor,” a title I used to be proud of and identity I once cherished.
I’ve been called “sweet meat” by a clergy supervisor who sexually harassed me
I’ve also been called “my sweet” and “my love” by my husband for the last 34
years - and I still am. These are my favorite names, and always will be.
Wendi, I’m so thankful and humbled to have your voice in this #PrideOnThePage challenge. Your reflection brings so much depth to what naming can carry: praise, pressure, projection, and sometimes harm. And also love. Real, lasting love.
The span you name—from “gifted” to “sweet meat,” from “pastor” to “my love”—reveals just how layered and charged the words attached to us can be. Some names uplift, others burden. Some we once cherished and had to let go of. Others become touchstones of belonging.
That you held all of these in one response speaks to the fullness of a life lived with presence, care, and courage. I’m grateful you shared this here.
Thank you, Jay. Other names also came to mind, but these stood out. As you said, some I once cherished no longer fit (or I no longer like them), others were always harmful, and my husband’s affectionate names for me are still wonderful.
I was an ugly baby. I had long limbs and resembled a chickling who hadn’t grown any feathers.
But Daddy thought I was the most beautiful baby girl in the world. He named me after his favorite movie star. But he began calling me by my family nickname soon after he presented me to his mother. Tiny Diny, I am no more.
But when I visit him at age 65 he a shaky 87 he ask me “How is my Diny girl?”
And I am transported through time. I’m right back to the awkward wallflower. The girl who could always sit in his lap and be comforted after being teased. The “Diny” who all her cousins shouted at their loudest to from across the school yard. So embarrassed.
Now, I yearn for the times of being Diny. The little girl with promise, the tiny one with her whole life in front of her. Instead I feel so old, tired and spent, most of the time. How I wish I could be gathered into my fathers arms in his lap and cherished.
Only the special few remember Diny. Only those I feel like are family do I allow them to call me Diny.
Diana — I somehow missed this beautiful contribution on Day One, and I am truly glad I found it now. No such thing as too late when words like these land with such tenderness.
The way you wove time and memory through this reflection touched me deeply. Names hold so much more than letters — they carry voices, gestures, the whole felt sense of being known. The image of your father calling you "Diny" with love still in his voice — this holds such resonance. We often speak here of chosen names, and yet it is just as true that some names gifted with deep affection remain sacred to us, even across time.
Thank you for bringing this layered story to #PrideOnThePage. I read it slowly, with care — and I honor both Diana and Diny here in this space. Your words remind us how naming can hold both tenderness and agency.
Looking forward to more of your voice through this month.
Kris, that is perfectly fine. As long as you restack my note, post or tag my name I will be notified and read. The tag actuallly is more a gimmick, as Substack is not using Hashtags, more like Heading. Thank you for participating.
On mirrors.. reflecting on self. I wrote this a while ago... but seemed fitting here: to share... https://millerandybeth.substack.com/p/the-mirrors-edge
What is so beautiful about this prompt is 'bloom where you're planted' has been an integral part of my life, it seems forever, but from when my paternal grandmother gave my mother a fridge magnet with these words on it when we moved from Australia to Canada in the 1970s. We lived there for 2 years, from age 4 to 6 for me. It was the impetus for me to start creating and embracing the idea of flourishing (hence Flucking Flourishing) and my business name: Flourish. Blooming and flourishing, whatever your circumstances and wherever you are, is central to my life. Such a beautiful and generous month of prompts, Jay 💖
Lisa, that magnet story lands somewhere deep. I can almost feel the cool smoothness of it in your childhood hand, resting quietly on the fridge door while everything else in your world kept shifting. You turned that small phrase into a lifelong practice—and then into a name, a path, a whole language of living. “Flucking Flourishing” says it all, with mischief and muscle. I love how you carry blooming as something you do, not something that waits for perfect soil. That’s where your voice meets this prompt so vividly—it doesn’t quote the magnet, it embodies the blooming, right where you are. Thank you for participating.
Jay, I love this brilliant concept. I wake up excited to see the day's prompt. 🥰
"Writing opens a door.
Not just to the page, but to each other."
💯❤️
WilM, I am so grateful for you saying that. Exactly so had I imagined this Challenge to be received. Opening perceptions, promoting diversity, letting ourselves be seen and heard and see and listen to other at the same time. Thank you so much for sharing it.
I am Cassandra.
When I was a child, I was bullied.
I was called Lassie and barked at.
I believe that was when the Seed of Advocacy for Others was planted, as it was also around this time I stood up to a bully who was bothering my little brother.
Having felt the sting of words hurled at me, I know how it feels.
I will continue to strive for the day that We Just let each other Live.
Peacefully🕊️💫🙏💕🇨🇦
Cassandra — I am so glad to see more of your words here. You speak with such clear-hearted presence. The way you traced the seed of advocacy through your own experience moved me. So often, those early wounds become the very ground where deep compassion grows. And yes — I stand with you in this: may we create spaces where we simply let one another live, fully, joyfully, in peace. That vision threads through this whole challenge, and your voice strengthens it. Thank you for sharing this piece of your story — I look forward to reading more from you here.
—Jay 🌈🪶
Thank you for your contribution to #PrideOnThePage Day 1 NAME
I was called “gifted and talented,” but aren’t we all?
I’ve been called “too sensitive” because I have strong emotional reactions and can’t bear to see innocent people harmed or killed, even in a fictional horror movie
I’ve been called “wise beyond my years” (when I was a teenager adults trusted and confided in)
I’ve been called “pastor,” a title I used to be proud of and identity I once cherished.
I’ve been called “sweet meat” by a clergy supervisor who sexually harassed me
I’ve also been called “my sweet” and “my love” by my husband for the last 34
years - and I still am. These are my favorite names, and always will be.
Wendi, I’m so thankful and humbled to have your voice in this #PrideOnThePage challenge. Your reflection brings so much depth to what naming can carry: praise, pressure, projection, and sometimes harm. And also love. Real, lasting love.
The span you name—from “gifted” to “sweet meat,” from “pastor” to “my love”—reveals just how layered and charged the words attached to us can be. Some names uplift, others burden. Some we once cherished and had to let go of. Others become touchstones of belonging.
That you held all of these in one response speaks to the fullness of a life lived with presence, care, and courage. I’m grateful you shared this here.
Thank you, Jay. Other names also came to mind, but these stood out. As you said, some I once cherished no longer fit (or I no longer like them), others were always harmful, and my husband’s affectionate names for me are still wonderful.
Name…
Day 1 of Pride Month
I was an ugly baby. I had long limbs and resembled a chickling who hadn’t grown any feathers.
But Daddy thought I was the most beautiful baby girl in the world. He named me after his favorite movie star. But he began calling me by my family nickname soon after he presented me to his mother. Tiny Diny, I am no more.
But when I visit him at age 65 he a shaky 87 he ask me “How is my Diny girl?”
And I am transported through time. I’m right back to the awkward wallflower. The girl who could always sit in his lap and be comforted after being teased. The “Diny” who all her cousins shouted at their loudest to from across the school yard. So embarrassed.
Now, I yearn for the times of being Diny. The little girl with promise, the tiny one with her whole life in front of her. Instead I feel so old, tired and spent, most of the time. How I wish I could be gathered into my fathers arms in his lap and cherished.
Only the special few remember Diny. Only those I feel like are family do I allow them to call me Diny.
Sometimes, that’s you, my readers.
Respectfully Diny
Diana.
Diana — I somehow missed this beautiful contribution on Day One, and I am truly glad I found it now. No such thing as too late when words like these land with such tenderness.
The way you wove time and memory through this reflection touched me deeply. Names hold so much more than letters — they carry voices, gestures, the whole felt sense of being known. The image of your father calling you "Diny" with love still in his voice — this holds such resonance. We often speak here of chosen names, and yet it is just as true that some names gifted with deep affection remain sacred to us, even across time.
Thank you for bringing this layered story to #PrideOnThePage. I read it slowly, with care — and I honor both Diana and Diny here in this space. Your words remind us how naming can hold both tenderness and agency.
Looking forward to more of your voice through this month.
#PrideOnThePage Day 1 Name
jay as canyon breathes
jay as canyon breathes
emerging from sediment layered by listening,
the name curves where stone leans toward
sky and shadow lingers in colors yet unnamed,
spoken in rhythm older than roots,
carried across mineral ribs
in tones only wind translates,
arriving through pulse rather than mouth,
drawn forward by the widening,
shaped through the gesture of becoming,
neither closed nor defined,
a name unfolding through resonance,
every echo deepens the valley of recognition,
every breath stretches the contour of self
further into space, further into sound,
a syllable flowing with horizon’s quiet confidence,
resting in spaciousness, s
eeded in movement,
held in place by nothing except presence.
You will find my full contribution to #PrideOnThePage Day 1 NAME in this full essay https://wildlionessespride.substack.com/p/prideonthepage-day-1-name?r=1sss7q&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web
I was sure if I did the tag properly, #PrideOnThePage1, so I posted mine as a Re-Stack of this with a Note. Thank you 🏳️🌈💜🏳️⚧️
Kris, that is perfectly fine. As long as you restack my note, post or tag my name I will be notified and read. The tag actuallly is more a gimmick, as Substack is not using Hashtags, more like Heading. Thank you for participating.
I'm excited to start and this prompt got me thinking a lot 🌈🤗😻
Lily, thank you for “this prompt got me thinking a lot” than it landed just I have intended it to land. Can’t wait to see read what you are creating.
I'm so joyful to share in this challenge for Pride 2025!
I am so grateful that you do. It means the world to me to have this kind of support. Thank you so much.