I wanted to write something with regards to PRIDE month, but in the light of everything going on in the U.S. right now, it’s really hard to focus on just a single thing. So this may ramble on a bit.
PRIDE and I have always had a contentious relationship. I remember going to my first in Long Beach, CA and having to confront my discomfort with everything on display: folks in drag, in kink attire, etc. It was nothing I’d ever really been super exposed to in such a fragrantly open display of defiance. My only exposure were brief sitings at otherwise very stereotypical WeHo clubs. It made me uncomfortable because I was not savvy enough in my teens to really sit and confront my own internalized homophobia. I didn’t have the luxury of having a guide to being gay. My internal response was, “THIS is pride? What’s there to be proud of? We still don’t have many of the rights we need! Why isn’t this more of an angry protest? Why isn’t this more educational?!”. This was in the nineties into the early 2000s. My take away was, well I guess this is just meant to be a party/excuse for people to feel uninhibited. I wasn’t entirely wrong, but it was also coming from a place of a lot of internalized judgement.
In my youth, I couldn’t see that it was a necessary celebration for activists to celebrate their accomplishments in the face of still so much work to do. That for many folks it was the only time of the year they could celebrate who they are without feeling shame for it, or worse, putting themselves in danger.
I couldn’t yet reckon with the little white policeman inside my brain telling me: this is wrong, we shouldn’t be doing this in the streets, look it’s probably making so many people uncomfortable, this is why there’s always a backlash, we need to make sure the straight white christians are comfortable. It’s a gross little voice.
It’s a voice that has long since kept me from truly realizing my potential, my inner and outer beauty, and my own liberation. He’s made up of a lot of internalized/socialized racism, classism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, ableism, ageism, etc. He’s the voice that has draped a cloak of shame on me my entire life for not having a athlete’s body, for being too hairy, for being such a feminine child, for being too short, being too fat, not cool enough, too poor, not having a perfect family, the list goes on and on. And while now at the ripe old age of 38 I can sometimes recognize when that voice is around and I can often go toe to toe with him, I also recognize that it will always be with me and that it’s a constant lifelong fight.
We all have some version of this voice, though most of us choose to not confront it because we have been socialized to not see it. We’re socialized to believe that self-criticism/judgement should be normal. You always need to be striving to be the best. I know people often frame that as a positive attitude to have, but the damaging corollary to that belief is that you will never be good enough because there will always be something or someone moving the finish line. To borrow from Sonya Renee Taylor, it’s Body Terrorism. And it took me a long time to get to a place where I can name it, if not always fight against it.
What does that have to do with PRIDE and our contentious relationship? Well, aside from wrestling with my internalized oppressions, there was always an internal acknowledgement that something just wasn’t quite right. I always somehow felt like an outsider in the queer community. Somehow being both in the queer community, but also somehow stuck on the outside looking in and coveting the happiness so many other folks had in their own personal liberation. I wasn’t gay enough or gay in the right way. I didn’t look or act the right way. I didn’t like a lot of the same music or activities that other gay people did. Growing up in and around LA, I was confounded at learning that there was a separate Latin Pride event. Why was this necessary?
It took a couple of years, but over time I began really piecing together that I could never really feel a part of the “community” because I never saw myself reflected in the community or its celebrations. The gay culture I was exposed to and saw celebrated everywhere was essentially White (and wealthy) gay culture. I was not welcome. Too brown. Too poor. Too fat. Too hairy. Too punk. I would go out to West Hollywood clubs to find some sense of belonging in the world (and maybe a boyfriend, of course), only to be met with disdain or just feeling invisible because other gay men my age couldn’t even bear to look at me or acknowledge my presence or humanity. I have never made a gay friend at a night club or bar.
To be fair, it’s a culture that has helped and lifted many people up. However, it was (and in many ways/places still is) a culture that would never look inward at who was being left behind and/or pushed to the margins again. So many White queer people cling to a sense of internalized victimization as an attempt to distract from their own racism, misogyny, transphobia, etc. Over time I got so sick of hearing, “I can’t be racist, I’m gay! I’m oppressed too!” or the even more disgusting variants of, “I’m not racist, I love latin guys! Hi Papi!”, “It’s not racist, it’s just a preference.”
I guess PRIDE, popular “gay culture”, and myself have always had a strained relationship for all those reasons (and more). I am glad to see this gradually changing over time with more wide spread of adoption of things like the Philly Pride Flag, and its even more inclusive modernizations, and individual PRIDE organizations really working on make their celebrations more inclusive like Providence Pride in Rhode Island and Fierté Montreal.
I hated seeing queer cops marching in 2018 Pride parades with some of them having the disgusting audacity to have “Blue Lives Matter” flags in their pockets while holding rainbow flags. In 2019, I saw Providence Pride prohibit those flags from being displayed, and while Pride 2020 was effectively canceled (yes I know they held alternative events), I would like to see no more police marching in our parades. Assimilation of queer folks into their ranks is not progress. Not while the police still brutalize Black, Brown, and Trans lives. They sided with our oppressors, not our liberation.
I was proud to see Montreal’s PRIDE parade feature the Asian queer community FIRST in line AND holding a moment of silence for those lost to and still impacted by HIV/AIDS. Things I’ve never witnessed in any major PRIDE celebrations back home in SoCal growing up in the nineties into the 2000s. Apparently the moment of silence used to be a lot more common, and then people decided it was taboo? I don’t know. I hope it happens in many more places that I don’t see. I know many organizations hold separate commemorative events, but it really needs to be front and center, lest people forget that we lost a generation of men (and others) to the disease, and that many lesbian (and other) activists also chose to set aside their political fights/inroads to aid a gay community in crisis. So many lives lost or forever altered. A political and social movement that faltered just as it was gaining momentum.
So I want to end this rambling rant with these final thoughts. If you celebrate or are celebrating PRIDE, Happy PRIDE. Celebrate what it means to you and what it’s done for you. But also, honor the fact that we still have a long way to go. Demand that your local PRIDE organizations center those members of the community that are marginalized the most: Black, Brown/Latinx, Indigenous, Asian, Trans, Muslims, the disabled, our seniors, etc. Demand that parade marshals and event headliners are actually members of the QUILTBAG+ community. Not cisgendered straight allies. Not White female pop-stars. It’s great that they support us, but centering their presence often overshadows and displaces our own queer activists, artists, and entertainers who deserve their moment, our support, and acknowledgement. We need to support our own, not rich celebrities. They’ll be fine.