Rowello described what happened when her young children first saw what happens at Pride:
Just as we got settled, our elementary-schooler pointed in the direction of oncoming floats, raising an eyebrow at a bare-chested man in dark sunglasses whose black suspenders clipped into a leather thong. The man paused to be spanked playfully by a partner with a flog. “What are they doing?” my curious kid asked as our toddler cheered them on. The pair was the first of a few dozen kinksters who danced down the street, laughing together as they twirled their whips and batons, some leading companions by leashes. At the time, my children were too young to understand the nuance of the situation, but I told them the truth: That these folks were members of our community celebrating who they are and what they like to do.
“Nuance of the situation”? To summarize, that’s an elementary school
child and toddler looking at a man in a thong acting out BDSM with
another man hitting him with a whip. In public. The way Rowella put
this, however, was that it was good for her children because “they got
to see that the queer community encompasses so many more nontraditional
ways of being, living, and loving … If we want our children to learn and
grow from their experiences at Pride, we should hope that they’ll
encounter kink when they attend. How else can they learn about the scope
and vitality of queer life?” Lifesite