The LGBTQ community is no stranger to evolution. We’ve marched, protested, danced in the streets, mourned, celebrated, and painted rainbows across cities worldwide. But in recent years, one symbol in particular has undergone a transformation that reflects not only where we’ve been—but where we must go next. The Progress Pride flag is more than just a redesign. It’s a cultural wake-up call, a moment of reckoning, and a necessary expansion of what it means to be seen, valued, and included in the queer community.

The events that reignited this conversation were nothing short of seismic. As the world mourned the murder of George Floyd and turned its gaze toward the systemic racism that has long plagued Black and brown communities, LGBTQ folks began asking hard questions: How inclusive is our community, really? Who do our symbols represent—and who do they leave behind?

These questions brought fresh urgency to a movement already in motion. It wasn’t the first time people of color had raised concerns about racism within the LGBTQ community, but it was one of the few times the wider community truly listened. The Progress Pride flag emerged as one visible answer to those concerns.

The Legacy of the Rainbow—and Its Limitations

The original rainbow flag, created in 1978 by Gilbert Baker, was a symbol of love, hope, and visibility. With its vibrant stripes, each color held meaning: red for life, orange for healing, yellow for sunlight, green for nature, blue for serenity, and violet for spirit. Over the years, this flag became synonymous with queer liberation. But even as it waved proudly over Pride parades and queer bars, many members of the LGBTQ community—especially those who are Black, brown, trans, or disabled—continued to feel unseen.

Let’s be honest: the rainbow didn’t always reflect everyone. For many queer people of color, the traditional LGBTQ flag often felt like a celebration they were invited to—but not truly part of. The symbols we hold dear must evolve when they fail to speak to the full truth of our community.

The Progress Pride Flag Redefines Inclusion

That’s where the Progress Pride flag comes in. Created by nonbinary designer Daniel Quasar in 2018, the new flag builds on Baker’s design, adding five arrow-shaped stripes along the hoist. These colors—black, brown, light blue, pink, and white—aren’t just aesthetic choices. They represent queer people of color, trans and nonbinary individuals, and those lost to HIV/AIDS.

The arrow points to the right, symbolizing forward movement. But it’s intentionally placed along the left side of the flag, a reminder that progress begins by lifting up those who’ve been pushed to the margins. The black and brown stripes honor the lives and leadership of Black and brown queer folks, while the trans colors acknowledge the often-erased contributions of transgender people.

This wasn’t a random design update. It was a response to decades of erasure—and a necessary step toward centering the voices too often silenced within the LGBTQ narrative.

Honoring Our Roots with a Broader Lens

The Progress Pride flag doesn’t just modernize a classic—it reframes history. Too often, our community remembers Stonewall without fully honoring who was there. Marsha P. Johnson, a Black trans woman and sex worker, and Sylvia Rivera, a Latina trans activist, were both on the front lines during the 1969 riots that launched the modern queer rights movement.

Their legacies are not footnotes—they’re foundational. And yet, they’ve been pushed aside in favor of palatable stories and polished narratives. The Progress Pride flag helps bring those voices back to the forefront, where they belong. It’s a reminder that the movement was built by the hands of trans women of color, and that true Pride includes every identity under our rainbow.

Representation Is Not Symbolic—It’s Powerful

In a recent survey, over 50% of LGBTQ individuals from Black, Asian, and other minority ethnic backgrounds reported experiencing racism within the queer community. That’s not just disappointing—it’s devastating. These aren’t isolated experiences. They’re part of a larger system of exclusion that persists even in spaces that claim to be inclusive.

Symbols matter. Visibility matters. When Black and brown queer people see themselves in the flag, it’s not just about feeling welcome—it’s about knowing that their lives, their identities, and their struggles are woven into the very fabric of the LGBTQ movement. The Progress Pride flag isn’t just symbolic—it’s a statement that inclusion is no longer optional.

The Flag Is a Starting Point, Not a Solution

Let’s be clear: changing a flag doesn’t fix racism. It doesn’t undo the harm caused by exclusion, microaggressions, or outright violence. But it does serve as a starting point—a visible commitment to do better. It opens the door for conversations that lead to action. It tells the world (and ourselves) that we are ready to expand our understanding of queerness, and to center justice in our fight for equality.

More than that, it challenges every one of us to reflect on our own biases and to show up for every letter in LGBTQ. Because allyship isn’t about words. It’s about actions. It’s about unlearning privilege, advocating for others, and sharing space, power, and resources.

A Flag for the Future

The Progress Pride flag is flying high at Pride events around the world, from major cities to small towns. And its presence is sparking important conversations: about race, about trans visibility, about how we define community. It’s not about erasing the past—it’s about expanding the future.

In this moment, we have the opportunity to redefine what it means to be inclusive. Not in theory, but in practice. Not just during Pride month, but every day. That begins by acknowledging the pain many in our community still carry—and making space for healing, equity, and shared leadership.

Share Your Pride, Share Your Thoughts

What do you think about the Progress Pride flag? Has it changed how you view inclusion within the LGBTQ community? Drop your thoughts in the comments below—this conversation belongs to all of us.