The Vancouver streets lit up with the colours red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, purple, and every shade in between this past weekend during the pride celebrations and events. Needless to say, it’s one of my most treasured weekends of the year every year. And I would like to sum it up with more than just this word: exhausting.
I went to my first Pride Parade exactly five years ago, in 2010. I was just coming out then – a wee baby dyke, you could say, and I felt like my experience* was more freeing than a prisoner released from confinement after serving a 10 year sentence. It was mind-blowingly liberating even though I navigated the entire event by myself. I didn’t want to go home afterwards!
Now, fast forward five years: pride has become an annual event in my life. I look forward to it every summer. The mere thought of being able to deck myself out in rainbows without getting strange looks from people is exciting enough to celebrate, let alone being able to be who you are without giving a fuck.
I have been volunteering as the ASM for both the Davie St Block Party and the main stage at the pride sunset festival for the past two prides. It is one way I could get involved with the community, but it’s also a way I could get myself to participate in this annual celebration. Otherwise I honestly don’t know if I’d have enough courage and energy to go by myself. Yes, it’s been five years since I’ve come out; yes, I have queer friends or friends that identify as LGBTQ; yes, I have friends who are allies; and yes, I have friends who will gladly bear the rainbow at any given time of the year. But for the life of me, I have no friends when it comes to pride season.
Okay, there may be a couple of friends that I’ll see over the weekend or say hi to when they’re enjoying the festivities, but for the most part, a lot of my friends choose not to participate in what has now turned into one big gay propaganda (so to speak). A lot of people think pride is one big political debate and gimmick. Nothing’s without its bureaucracies, right? One friend posted on facebook the night before festivities began: “and the social pressure weekend begins”.
I never understood why it’s such a stressful weekend for the very people this celebration is for. I’ve always had a blast because not only do I see how unique people are, it’s the one time of the year where I feel the world is colourful and alive. The population is suddenly so diverse and interesting that you kind of get lost in the world you’re in. Not that the city isn’t already so on a regular basis – pride adds glitter and helps make everyone shine! It lets you see the diversity in everyone beyond skin colours and orientation (or at least that’s the feeling I get).
Perhaps there are deeper incoherencies within the organization and its event, and politics between groups of individuals that make other people feel very differently about pride. Maybe I’m glorifying the event. Maybe I’m exaggerating how it affects me personally. But I know it is still an important event, and it would be nice, for once, if everyone could forget or look beyond the political agenda and just celebrate.
*password: purple
Where's My Dime? 