Wear It Purple, Wear It Proud
When I think about Wear It Purple Day, I don’t picture a hashtag wall. I picture a kid version of me — not invisible, but afraid. I didn’t go quiet; I masked it. I tried to outrun fear by being better than every straight boy on the sports field. It “worked,” in a way, and it also wasn’t healthy. That competitive edge is still in me; these days I try to unleash it in ways that build me rather than break me.
Growing up in Tasmania, being gay wasn’t just taboo — within living memory, sex between men was a criminal offence. We didn’t talk about any of it. Sex ed was bare-bones. The only “role models” we saw were either radical activists or fabulous drag queens. Both vital, both worthy — and neither felt like a mirror for a kid like me who just wanted to be ordinary, safe, and okay.
Back then, the idea that schools — or workplaces — would celebrate a day about being who you are? Unimaginable. Which is why Wear It Purple hits me in the chest every year. It’s proof that in Australia — and in Tasmania, especially — change can be real and rapid. It’s a reminder to my younger self that the silence wasn’t forever.
Why Wear It Purple exists
Wear It Purple started in 2010 because young lives were being lost. A wave of public tragedies — including the death of 18-year-old Tyler Clementi after being outed and humiliated — made one thing painfully clear: when shame and bullying are allowed to grow, they kill. A small group of young people decided to answer with something simple and stubborn: visible support. “You are loved. You belong. You have the right to be proud of who you are.” From that seed, a movement grew.
Today, Wear It Purple’s purpose is straightforward: create supportive, safe, empowering, and inclusive environments for rainbow young people. They focus on four things:
Awareness: Practical resources for schools, unis, GSAs and youth orgs to run inclusive days — not just symbols, but usable guides and lesson starters.
Opportunity: Real chances for rainbow youth to develop skills, expand networks and lead inclusion where they live and learn.
Environment: Safer physical and digital spaces so young people can be proud, not just private.
Collaboration: Partnering across sectors so it isn’t one day or one school — it’s a joined-up effort that actually lands.
The principles underneath are just as clear: advocate and empower rainbow young people, celebrate diversity, raise awareness and challenge harmful cultures, champion role models so kids can picture a future with their name on it.
The youth reality (and the antidote)
We talk about “youth issues” like they’re a vibe. They’re not. They’re measurable. Surveys in Australia keep finding the same pattern: rainbow young people are more likely to be bullied at school, to feel unsafe, to experience anxiety and depression, and to think about self-harm. Social media can help some kids find community — and it can also turn every hallway whisper into a 24/7 feed. Add in homes or classrooms where it’s still risky to be yourself, and the load gets heavy fast.
The good news is just as consistent: affirmation protects. When schools take inclusion seriously — clear policies, trained staff, visible signals, quick responses to bullying — kids’ mental health improves. Belonging isn’t a poster; it’s a practice. Even one visibly supportive adult can make a life-changing difference. Not a superhero. Just an adult who says, “I see you. I’ve got you. You don’t have to earn that.”
Why days like this still matter
Because fear doesn’t disappear on its own. Because too many young people still learn to perform instead of belong. Because some of us are still carrying the survival habits that “worked” — perfectionism, people-pleasing, being the best at something so no one looks too closely at anything else.
Wear It Purple is not about rainbow cupcakes. It’s about telling a 14-year-old (and the 40-year-old they’ll become): you don’t have to win to be worthy. You don’t have to shrink to be safe. You don’t have to choose between being proud and being ordinary. You get to be both.
If you’re a student, a teacher, a manager (or all three)
Little signals carry big weight. Try one — today.
Wear the purple — and say why. “I’m wearing this because everyone deserves to feel safe at school/work.” Say it out loud. It lands.
Learn a name, remember a pronoun, use both. It’s not politics; it’s respect.
Invite, don’t out. “If you ever want company to the LGBTQIA+ group/event, I’m in.” That’s a door, not a shove.
Back it with policy. Check: Do we have a clear process for reporting bullying? Are staff trained to respond? Are our forms inclusive of names, pronouns, and families as they are?
Make room for ordinary joy. A lunch table that’s easy to sit at is activism, too. So is a zero-tolerance stance on “jokes” that isolate.
Resource up. Use the free Wear It Purple guides. Borrow what works, improve the rest, and share it back.
If you grew up like me
Maybe you didn’t try to disappear — you tried to excel. Maybe you still feel that old engine rev when you’re around certain people or places. Two thoughts that help me:
Let the skill stay, drop the shield. Drive, discipline, competition — welcome. You don’t need the fear that came with them. Put the energy into sport, art, community, service — anything that builds more of you instead of hollowing you out.
Be the role model you needed. Not the loudest, not the most followed — just a visible, decent, ordinary queer adult living well. For a kid who can’t yet imagine their future, that is rocket fuel.
What Wear It Purple says to my 16-year-old self
It says: you weren’t wrong. You were early.
It says: there are a thousand ways to be gay, bi, trans, queer — and “boring” is a perfectly valid one.
It says: the world is not done changing, and neither are you.
It says: come as you are, even if “as you are” still includes some fear. We’ll walk with you until it loosens its grip.
Making the day mean something after the selfie
If you want the purple to last longer than the post:
Turn “awareness” into a calendar. Book one follow-up action next month: a staff PD, a student-led panel, a pronoun-on-forms tidy-up, a review of your anti-bullying policy with students in the room.
Fund the future. If you can, donate, fundraise, or sponsor a youth-led initiative. Opportunity changes odds.
Give the mic to young people. Let them design what inclusion looks like locally. Back them. Pay them if you’re asking for real work.
Measure what matters. Ask your community if they feel safer, seen, supported. Believe the answers. Change accordingly.
My purple, this Friday
I’m proud of who I am now. I’ll champion inclusion and equality in my community and my workplace every chance I get — not because it’s my job, but because it would have saved me a lot of lonely miles if I’d seen more of it sooner.
So yes, I’ll be wearing it purple on Friday. Not because purple fixes everything, but because it signals something simple and radical: you belong, exactly as you are, and you don’t have to win at anything to earn it.
And to the kid who looks at a sea of purple and feels their shoulders drop half an inch: we see you. We’ve been you. We’re building a world where you don’t have to choose between hiding and performing. You get to be here — fully, safely, ordinarily — and you get to grow into someone who helps the next kid feel the same.
Join us. Wear it. Say why. Back it with action. Then do it again next year — a little deeper, a little steadier, a little more ordinary and a lot more free.