esrosedotblog

No better way to be personal than to take to the street and be in a parade.

We have come a long way from the meager marches up Boylston Street with our gay brothers and sisters furtively watching from the sidewalk.

"Out of the closets and into the streets".

This date commemorates the time when the men of the Stonewall Inn in New York fought back.

The Stonewall Riots (1969)

I got the message in 1975. It took me a while to figure out how I could truly come out and have a life as a gay man. With all the trimmings. The marchers were the first to show me how in a kind of public way. I could watch and identify and see myself there.

That is why it is important.

It is also important to continually face down prejudice with a smile and a raised middle finger. Solidarity.

There are many fronts on which the battle for human rights has been waged but the parade is one of the most visible and, probably, confrontational.

In the old days, people would show up to demonstrate their opposition. They slowly disappeared from the sidewalks. More and more not gay people (and gay ones too) came to see and were impressed, won over, became allies.

There is nothing like seeing some real queers alive and well and in a range of types which theretofore was not comprehended. The outliers always had the courage to face the enemy. It took the rest of us to make it work. We were fairies too but we defied the stereotype.

In the old days, we would meet in the Boston Garden, then march up Charles in the heart of one of the gay communities. Then up Cambridge, the other side of the ghetto, and continue on Tremont to Boylston and back to the Common for a rally.

Here is our own Barney Frank warming up the crowd in 1976.

It felt good. We were together. People came out and cheered. Some left the sidewalk and came into the streets.

Such action catapulted those of us still hiding into visibility and commitment. It was a good exercise in being oneself. Cleansing.

Over the years, the Gay Pride Parade became the LBGT parade. Now called just PRIDE. Jeezus. Co-opted in my opinion. An old fogey in my own movement.

Out here in the desert we do not march in June. Too hot for the girls and boys.

We will have to wait until the first weekend in November when all the gay resorts and organizations run the parade. Individuals not invited. Highly organized and co-opted. I don't even go watch it any more. I am an old fart. I want today. The Stonewall time. The time when it all began. Oh well.

Labels: gay pride, gay rights