It’s not even June yet, and you can already feel it—the collective eye-roll of a weary nation bracing for another thirty-day parade of moral confusion, sexual exhibitionism, and corporate hostage videos. The rainbow flags are being ironed, the slogans reheated, the drag queens dusted off for another run at story hour.

And normal people—yes, normal, a word the left hates—are exhausted.

It’s not even appropriate to refer to it as “pride month” anymore…it’s more like pride monopoly. It’s on your cereal box, your sports broadcasts, your email inbox, your Roku home screen, your Google search page, your kid’s math worksheet, your toothpaste, and your social media feed. Nearly every commercial, every headline, every window display is standing two inches from your face, screaming, “Say it. Say we’re brave. Say we’re beautiful. Say it louder.”

And when you don’t say it—when you dare to sit quietly, with your jaw unclenched and your conscience unbent—they label you dangerous. A threat. An enemy of progress. Because neutrality isn’t allowed anymore. You will participate, or you will be punished.

It has become, and has always been, about reprogramming you, your identity, and your thinking.

And people are feeling it—pride fatigue. That bone-deep, soul-level weariness that hits when you realize the world has traded morality for sexual chaos, and now demands applause for the trade. They’re tired of having to pretend that they believe men can have babies. Tired of pretending that gender is a hat you try on at Target. Tired of smiling politely while someone’s mentally unstable grandpa in fishnets lectures the world on authenticity.

They’re tired of the flags—good grief, the flags. How did one subculture’s sexual preferences manage to spawn more flags than the United Nations?

It’s no wonder even formerly quiet conservatives are starting to mutter under their breath in checkout lines and at Little League games. They’re not activists—they’re just waking up now. And they’re not buying it anymore.

So what do normal people do? They stop pretending. They stop clapping for the emperor’s new wardrobe. They stop shopping at stores that fund the mutilation of children and call it medicine. They turn off the television when the parade starts. They swap the rainbow-logoed brands for ones that still remember what a woman is.

They homeschool. Or they find churches where the pastor actually opens a Bible instead of a DEI manual. Or they stop going to churches that confuse the pulpit with a diversity seminar. They build better libraries at home—ones without drag queens, but with Charles Spurgeon, Puritan Paperbacks, and a Greek-English interlinear Bible.

They stop explaining themselves. They stop whispering. They stop apologizing for being normal.

Because they know what this is. They know what’s really being celebrated. They know that every rainbow balloon arch is an altar to self, and every pride campaign is a pageant for the god of confusion. And they’ve had enough.

You can only gaslight people for so long before the smell of sulfur gives it away. You can only scream “love is love” for so many years before people start asking, “Okay, but what is love?” You can only shove propaganda down someone’s throat so many times before they gag, spit it out, and start demanding something with nutritional value.

June is coming, but the spell is breaking. The saturation point is near. And as the shrill cries of forced celebration grow louder, the quiet resolve of the fed-up grows firmer.

The fatigue is real. And it’s starting to look an awful lot like a reckoning. Let’s pray that this fatigue would continue to grow, and God would be glorified in it.