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I have to take a moment to make a confession. As I look at the calendar of events for the month of June in the local gay magazine, as I think back to all of the gay prides that I’ve been to, the entertainment, the information booths, and the “you could buy it online cheaper” places that pop up only for Pride, it hits me as it usually does about this time of the year. I don’t like Pride, I’ve never liked Pride. Sitting on the capitol steps, listening to the mediocre speeches, under the hot sun, while two guys with signs sit across the street watching us, it all seems so useless.
We’ll march through the streets as if we have something to march about, in over the top outfits that nobody would get away with otherwise, while the passersby wave at us and cheer us on. I don’t think it detracts from my “manhood” in any sense to say that some of the women scare me, and to be completely honest some of the men scare me too. And don’t get me started about the drag queens. Why are men in drag so interesting to the community? Every time I see someone up their flouncing about I think to myself, I could do that if I ever had a reason to. Then I think about all the times I’ve heard drag queens talk about other drag queens to other drag queens and I realize that I could totally do without more of that in my life. I don’t really like drama, and I try to work to minimize it.
No, I don’t want to go to Pride; it is in fact the very last thing I want to do, but come this Saturday you’ll find me down there at the steps of the capitol building with everyone else. I may go with friends, I may go alone, but go I will.
I remember what it was like to be taking my first couple of steps out of the closet into the big, wide world around me. I remember the THRILL I got when I marched in my first parade. There were 700 people then, and there are projected to be 7,000 this weekend. The sea of glbt folk around me gave my young mind the impression that no matter what happened I was not alone. I can just imagine what it would be like for a closeted youth sitting at home with their disapproving parents--something that is unfortunately quite common in this part of the U.S.--watching the news and seeing the sea of shining faces. What must that young man or woman be thinking as they listen to the newscaster talk about 1,000 or 5,000 or 7,000 homosexuals in the state who are taking the time to drive into the capitol city for Pride? I also volunteer, a lot. Most of the organizations I help out are going to be there and I’ve been thinking about picking up a few more. Call this a dry run to see what some of the others do and how they do it.
So this is me, doing my thing at Pride, hating a lot of it, but loving the chance at giving a modicum of hope to some young mind waiting to break free.
Q3JR4
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