Today was an educational experience. B and I attended our first LGBT Pride Festival since we met and were dating in San Francisco in 1991.
After that - living in San Francisco's Castro District as we did - Pride for us meant a huge inconvenience. Throngs of people, no parking, and usually...someone eventually urinating, defecating, fornicating and/or passing out on our front steps. So for Pride, Halloween - any gay high holy day - we split for points North. Mendocino, Napa, Petaluma - anywhere the thousands of gays weren't - we were there.
Living in the Castro is difficult if you are a committed couple. It's great if you're single and on the razz, as it were, with bars every few doorways (handy if you need a restroom!) - but when a spontaneous demonstration prevents you from getting home for three hours after innocently walking two blocks to the Walgreens for toilet paper...just because you are on the wrong side of the street...well, it's a bit wearing.
Anyway - back to present - we have actively avoided Pride festivals since - for better or worse. But our memories of that one that we did attend was about community and friends and neighbors. We bought art and crafts and whatever from GLBT artisans - I still have the tank top that I bought that reads "I'm not gay but my boyfriend is." It was a celebration of ourselves and our abilities and our joy of living.
Our local Pride event today was a sobering encounter. To begin with - we were there as a vendor trying to introduce ourselves as a half-gay-owned business to the community while simultaneously raising funds for the local LGBTQ center here in town. Only to find out that the only other vendors there was some woman who painted celestial visions that she had apparently channeled while downing a fifth of Jack Daniels, three food booths (Caribbean BBQ, corn dogs and funnel cakes, and hot dogs), and us.
The first wave of interest we encountered was from the insane and addicted, who came before the parade because there was really nowhere else to go and get free things. Their contribution amounted to "Oh those are pretty", "Can I have this?", and "bebbebEEE NEE souhahaha - Martha (drooling noise)!"
As the parade and attendees arrived some time later (hours - goddamn, we set up at 10:30 and had to wait till 1:30 for people to show up) we actually had some lucid customers buying flowers and were able to shake the hands of noted dignitaries who had appeared first thing so they could escape the sad spectacle as soon as possible.
Then the disco/rap/hip hop tent launched and nobody heard anything for an hour.
Following this - sadly - came the speeches and the local talent. And in what I refer to as the Holly Near-Death Experience - (Google Holly Near if you don't get the joke) - we were then subjected to nearly two hours of ululating lesbians and zaftig belly dancers and drummers -- singing and drumming and wailing about social justice and empowerment and peaceful protest - until the entire tent became a huge, vaginal sweat lodge.
Estrogen-sicles formed on the tent poles and anyone walking by became disabled. I swear this is true.
Side note - what the hell is up with lesbians and being disabled? Do they put you in a wheelchair when you declare your lesbianism? Honestly - does someone just show up and mess with your ovaries or knee-cap you or something? Jesus. If I saw one more paraplegic lesbian today, I was so going to cry.
Needless to say, this was a huge surprise for our straight but supporting business partners who were experiencing this for the first time. And for us.
I mentioned how many vendors we had - they were only outnumbered (and easily) by the number of tables featuring mental health providers, "ok, we'll accept you" churches, and "Hi - we're masquerading as an affordable housing developer with Mafia connections that no one talks about. Trust us." organizations.
No alcohol. Anywhere.
Except for the totally cool interfaith minister and his boyfriend next to us who turned out to be really fun and cool and snarky - and who live just a few blocks away (YAY!). Their friend, who looks and dresses like Snookie and owns a winery, dropped by with six bottles of Syrah.
And there was not a corkscrew in sight.
Besides, today was totally cloudy but warm - a Rose' or unoaked Chardonnay kind of day.
-->To be continued<---
3 comments:
Sounds interesting to say the least. Maybe something exciting, or at least positive, will happen in Part 2. Let's wait and see.
I have to confess that I, too, am looking forward to an epiphany of this event.
I am simply still too tired and disappointed to sort through my impressions of the day.
Maybe I posted too soon, but this was a significant event, mentally and emotionally - and it leaves me wondering.
I'm hoping Part Two brings with it a lovely conclusion, though, and I hate to say this, but the bit about Dykes In Wheelchairs caused me to giggle, and ensured me a front row seat on the bus to hell.
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