From Grand Marshal to Human Balloon: My Most Unforgettable Pride Moments

Every June, as rainbow flags start appearing, glitter somehow finds its way onto every available surface, and social media timelines become a beautiful explosion of Pride, I find myself reflecting on the moments that shaped my journey.

Now, asking me to pick a favorite Pride memory is a little like asking me to pick a favorite snack. It’s nearly impossible, and frankly, a little rude.

But if I had to narrow it down, two moments immediately come to mind.

The first happened in 2022.

If you know anything about me, you know I occasionally enjoy being the center of attention. (Pause here for laughter from everyone who has ever met me.)

In 2022, I was selected… well, technically voted upon, as the 20th Grand Marshal for the St. Petersburg Pride Parade in Florida. It was a particularly special year because it marked the 20th anniversary of St. Pete Pride. The board selected 19 grand marshals who represented leaders throughout the Tampa Bay community. The 20th and final spot? That one was left up to the LGBTQ+ community and its allies.

And somehow, some way, they collectively looked at all the choices and said, “Let’s go with Julius.”

To this day, I’m still not entirely convinced everyone understood the assignment, but I’ll take the win.

Being named Grand Marshal wasn’t just an honor, it was deeply humbling. Pride has always represented visibility, community, and authenticity. To be recognized by the very community that helped shape me felt incredibly meaningful.

For one glorious parade, I got to wave at crowds like I had just won an election I never knew I was running for.

The funny thing is, 2022 wasn’t finished with me yet.

That same year, I was recognized as an Outstanding Voice Honoree by the Tampa Bay Business Journal for my work with FatMarker, my clothing brand that championed body positivity and encouraged people to be unapologetically themselves.

FatMarker is no longer around today, but its message remains one of the things I’m most proud of.

The brand was built on a simple idea: people spend far too much time trying to make themselves smaller.

Smaller personalities. Smaller dreams. Smaller bodies. Smaller versions of themselves to fit someone else’s expectations.

FatMarker pushed back against that. Its message was simple:

Be loud. Be proud. Be too much.

And if someone thinks you’re too much, that’s usually because they’re not enough.

Particularly within the LGBTQ+ community, where many of us spent years trying to hide parts of ourselves, that message resonated. The best version of ourselves isn’t the edited version. It’s the authentic one.

The one that takes up space. The one that laughs too loudly. The one that wears the outfit. The one that dances when nobody else is dancing. The one that says, “This is me.”

As if Grand Marshal and the award weren’t enough, 2022 also happened to coincide with another milestone: I turned 50. I know. I know. Take a moment. I’ll wait. Fifty.

People still seem surprised when I tell them my age, which is always appreciated. My standard response is simple: “Fat don’t crack.” It’s science. I refuse to entertain any evidence to the contrary.

Looking back now, what made that year so special wasn’t the title, the recognition, or even the birthday. It was what those moments represented: community, visibility, acceptance, joy and pride. The opportunity to stand fully in who I am and be celebrated for it.

But if 2022 was about being celebrated by my community, my second favorite Pride memory was about discovering community in an entirely unexpected place.

That happened in 2024.

Believe it or not, I had never been to New York City Pride.

For years, I had heard stories about it. The size. The energy. The sheer spectacle of it all. But life always seemed to get in the way.

Finally, in 2024, the stars aligned.

I packed my bags and headed to Manhattan to visit a friend who lived there at the time. He’s since moved to another borough, but for that weekend, Manhattan was home base.

My friend worked for L’Oréal, and on Friday night of Pride weekend, we attended the Pride concert. The lineup was incredible. We watched performances by Cynthia Erivo and Conchita Wurst, and the atmosphere was electric.

At one point during the evening, I was introduced to several of my friend’s coworkers, including his manager.

The manager casually asked me, “Are you walking in the parade with us tomorrow?”

Before I could answer, my friend jumped in.

“We were told no guests.”

Fair enough. I wasn’t expecting anything. I was thrilled just to be there.

Then the manager looked at me and delivered a response I’ll never forget.

“Julius isn’t a guest. He’s one of us.”

Then he asked, “What’s your t-shirt size? Pick it up tomorrow morning where we’re gathering.”

Just like that, I went from spectator to participant.

The next morning, I showed up, grabbed my Pride shirt, and before I knew it, I was marching in the New York City Pride Parade alongside hundreds of L’Oréal employees.

And because apparently subtlety isn’t my brand, they tied a giant yellow L’Oréal balloon around my waist.

Nothing says “blend in” quite like becoming a human float.

There I was, walking through New York City Pride, surrounded by strangers who had welcomed me as family.

I kept thinking to myself, “Is this really happening?”

Because growing up, none of this was part of the plan.

I never imagined I’d be Grand Marshal of a major Pride parade. I never imagined I’d create a brand that encouraged people to embrace who they are. I never imagined I’d find myself marching down the streets of New York City with a giant balloon attached to my waist because a group of people I’d just met decided I belonged there.

Yet there I was.

And honestly?

It was beyond my wildest dreams.

What I love most about these two memories is that they’re not really about me. They’re about belonging.

One memory reminds me what it feels like to be celebrated by your own community. The other reminds me what it feels like to be welcomed into a new one.

Both are reminders that Pride is bigger than parades, bigger than parties, and bigger than a single month on the calendar.

Pride is about finding your people.

Sometimes they’re the people who’ve known you for years. Sometimes they’re people you’ve only known for an evening. And sometimes they look at you and say exactly what you need to hear:

“You’re one of us.”

And if there’s one final lesson from marching with L’Oréal at New York City Pride, it’s this:

I am, in fact, worth it.