Thoughts on a Pride Weekend
It’s Pride Weekend here in San Francisco, which, as if you couldn’t guess, is a really big deal.
I will not be attending this year for obvious health reasons. Even if I could walk more than ten steps without falling over, my time at Pride is over. I marched for several years, and later, Ms L and I rode with Dykes on Bikes for almost a decade. Maybe if I had one of those little electric powered chairs I could do it, but somehow it just doesn’t appeal to me any more.
I do not feel like celebrating because the Pride I want to celebrate will most probably not happen in my lifetime. Considering the political agenda of hate in this country for all things not “christian” or whatever other bullshit label they put on it, it may never happen…
What I really want is to celebrate when the idea of a Pride Parade and Pride Weekend is no longer necessary. When it doesn’t matter with whom you sleep, or what’s between your legs, because people will have finally learned that it just doesn’t matter. I know, I know, it’s a fantasy, but one to which I cling. When the whole idea of being gay or lesbian or transgendered is just not a big deal to anyone else, but only the people directly involved. When the idea of “gay marriage” is no longer considered a “threat” to a bunch of scared and withered old men who are so sanctimonious in their own twisted way, that making a “war on women” seem like a viable political agenda. When “gay marriage” becomes simply another celebration of love between two people. When LGBT kids stop committing suicide because of bullying. When preachers and politicians STFU about women’s reproductive rights.
When hate stops.
When we all become just people, some on a different path than others, and we’re not considered a threat to anyone else.
That’s the Pride I want. It may never happen, but if it does and I’m still around, the drinks will be on me.