Mustering up a sense of PRIDE

[Composed June 14th, 2018]

It's Pride in New York. This means that it is the day of the Pride Parade. The parade kicked off at noon today, and right about now there are huge amounts of people out in the sun celebrating their gayness. I am not there. And I'm feeling emotions about it. Why am I not there? What would keep me away? And, doesn't my absence make me a bad gay person? Isn't it my duty to go out and be counted, to be amongst the throngs? And yet... this day? This is "Gay New Year's Eve" with all that that implies.

You should have your Pride planes cemented way in advance so you know what you are doing, with whom, and where. Then you can choose your outfit, "slenderize" and tan up for it. As you will be seen by many, many, gays and others alike. You need to look good. It isn't a requirement, per say, but it feels like one. Just like New Year's Eve. And just like New Year's Eve, it is very important to have a good time. It is kind of a sign of your gay year to come. And will you? Well, do you on New Year's Eve?

I think if I'd had close friend here who were going, I would have dragged myself out, but one of the few gay friends I have is currently out of town, and not many other people I know are motivated to celebrate. And yes, I was invited to join a couple of different sets of plans, but that comes with its own set of social anxieties. Those of fitting into a small social group, as well as being respected and admired my the people at large. And there will be throngs of them. And I don't always do well in crowds. I tend to worry. This, plus the fact that I didn't wake up early enough to do the laundry and get in to the church service that would be the beginning of the first set of plans, and that I couldn't bring myself to join the second set of plans which involved the guy I'm dating and his much younger than me female friends, added to the fact that I hopped on the scale this morning and saw a horrific number, and that I have no cute clothes that are "gay enough", all caused me to stay home on Gay New Year's Eve. And now that I'm feeling like I should have gone, it feels to late to strike out.

I'd told myself I would stay home and be incredibly productive, and yet that has not manifested itself enough to justify the absence.

Am I doing this to myself? Did I do this to myself? Or is there a lot of very real pressure out there? I think the answer is "yes" to both questions. Pride is essentially a very amped up microcosm of society, and I cn make what I want to of it. I can overlook all the twinks that I only ever was for about two years from the age of six to eight, and then it would have been illegal for me to do anything about it (WITH GOOD REASON) and yet, I am kind of sad tat my truly skinny years were wasted on a child.

And I can avoid spending a ton of money (another reason I was laid out for skipping) and I can avoid eating a bunch of bad food. I mean, it's not like it's a fair. There's no Funnel Cake being served at gay pride. And if I run into the 6 ft 7 guy that dumped me a couple of months ago, and now will have the joy of seeing me fifteen pounds heavier than the last time I saw him? I mean, he would be easy to pick out in a crowd, because it's kind of hard to  Well, there are worse things that could happen, right?

I guess a big part, outside of all of these "what ifs", what if I do, and then I have a bad time, and I miss out on doing the things I have been telling myself for weeks now that I had to get done?

Next year? I promise I will be better. I mean, it is the 50th anniversary of the Stonewall Riots, and not incidentally, the death of Judy Garland. So I have to go. And it is being turned into the location of a World Pride Event. So I really can't miss it!

I've always done this to myself. Psych myself out of doing something and then at the last minute I change my mind and go, and whether I feel good about it or not, I at least went. I at least tried. I may do this yet.

[I ended up leaving to meet a friend around 3PM, and while many people were heading home at that time, it turned out not to be the worst time to go. I was alone for much of it, waiting for my friend stuck on the opposites side of the parade, while I mingled and awkwardly joked and sang with strangers. When my friend and I caught up it was about 5:30 and we ducked into a darkened bar and I had a glass of rose while he drank a Coca-Cola. I am glad I went. Glad I participated in the world, even half-heartedly. I think a large part of enjoying it is about keeping expectations low, and making plans early. Next year being the fiftieth anniversary of the Stonewall Riots, added to the fact that New York City is going to be the epicenter of World Pride, it's one not to miss. I decided not to post publish the original post at first, fearing that it was more about me than about any real observations of the outer world, but I do think it has some value, so... just like my subway journey on June 14th, this post is a little late.]

Is It A Rock Band???

Last Wednesday I did something pretty atypical for me. I stopped by the local gay bar on the way home around 6PM and ordered a drink. It was Happy Hour after all, and I figured that there would be a solid group of people taking advantage of two for one drinks, and yet... it was me, the owner, the bartender, and a regular who seemed more staff than patron. And yet, I've always been one to dive into social situations head first. So after about fifteen minutes of solitary sitting, watching them gab amongst themselves, I got a notification for discounted tickets to the upcoming revival of Angels in America, a production that had begun in London and is headed to New York, and which I'm frankly, very excited to see. So I thought to myself, "here's an easy icebreaker, I'll bring up the new revival and we'll have a lively theatrical discussion." But the response? Quizzical looks, and a tilted head from the bartender as he asked "Is that a band?" The bartender asked.

The owner, who is old enough, didn't know it either. And to be fair, while I feel like the play is ever present, it has been 25 years since it premiered on Broadway.  The patron though? The one who had been playing on his laptop? He had heard of it, and I felt a little vindicated. And yet, I'm still a little surprised, as this is considered the greatest American play in the past quarter of a century. But then, maybe it didn't matter.  maybe people today, even gay people, aren't as culturally aware as I would think.  I mean, I didn't think to toss out A Streetcar Named Desire and see what reaction that would have gotten. I would like to think that more people would have heard of that, but in truth, I don't know that they would have. And shouldn't they? 

I first saw the play around 1998, ironically, with a girl I had been seeing for a while. And it was a strange experience to see. It was a glimpse at a distasteful world. A world I didn't quite grasp, in spite of the fact that in my reality, I was reaching toward it with one hand and pushing it away with another. Holding hands with a man in the park as we chat about Come Back Little Sheba? Lounging around in full drag? Having random sex with a leather daddy? Embracing the full force of my feminine side in the daylight, owning every ounce of me?  I couldn't see it. Didn't want to. Would not be going there. Ever. And of all the characters, if I related to any, I related to Harper, the Mormon mother in denial who slowly but surely inched her way into a new and open way of being. Strange that I didn't see myself in Joe Pitt. And yet, I think I saw him as too far above me. Better looking than me, more manly than me, more chiseled, ramrod straight and respectable. All things I had never really succeeded at being. But, like Joe, I saw myself as above gay culture. They were the victims, thy were the weak ones. Weren't they? They luxuriated in femininity and vulnerability. Didn't they?

And I had already upon seeing this play experienced the giddy, floor shaking experience of a really great kiss from a man, but I did not consider myself gay, because I had not completely given into camp, into ceaseless emoting, into gooey public intimacy with a man as if we were romantic. 

And yet, now? I have done a version of every single one of those things that I cringed at before. And those that I haven't? Those are the experiences I long for. A long term relationship with one that I know intimately from day to day? I want that. That thing that when I first saw this play, that I saw as men "playing house"? I yearn for it. Ad I'm grateful. I know that what I am and who I am and what I've done isn't "gay" for everyone. But it is for me, and I am grateful. Grateful to be a part of a community who has been through the experiences painted in this piece. Grateful to have had some of those experiences myself, grateful to be watching the play from what feels like the inside out rather than looking from the outside in, like a petrie dish. Because there's so little redemption to be found in judgement, and so much to be had when one can look at himself and ask "Why am I judging? What is the fear here about?" And then step through that fear. 

Joe's resolution at the end of the play is ambiguous to say the least. But, as someone who's journey has been a version of his, even though he "pretended" so much better than I ever could have, fI see hope for him. We only see him at the beginning of his journey, and the years have a way of changing a person if you are able to strip away the false and look at the reality of yourself and who and how you are in the world. And so, yes. People, gay and straight need to know this play. They need to look back on our history, our post stonewall history, which was every bit as much a struggle for those who experienced it, as the closeted years of those before. We need to be able to see a time, which is close to the one we currently live in than it was just two years ago, if only to know that we can, and with strength and with our eyes open, we will.

Stepping Out and Back to The Past

Today's planned visit to Flushing Meadows Park has been postponed, as the U.S. Open is just a few hundred feet away from the museum, which means that not only is one of the major reasons for the journey closed, but the park will be a madhouse for today's final match of the tournament.  Instead I'm going to take book I picked up online a while ago, and be a tourist in my own city, exploring some of the historic LGBT spots in the East Village.  How do I plan to do that you may ask?  Why, with Stepping Out: Nine Walks Through New York City's Gay and Lesbian Past, of course. I found this on the bookshelf of someone I had a couple of dates with, and ended up purchasing it. I have barely opened the book in the six months I've had it, but often think about using it to walk the city, and today is the day to put it to good use!

I will report back, but in the meantime, I leave you with this little film about the 1939 World's Fair, which also took place at Flushing Meados Park, and which has the the catchy title The Middleton Family At the New York World's Fair. Yes, it is hopelessly cornball, very dated in its mindset, and blatant in its motives, but I also find it rather charming at moments. And if that Jim Treadwell isn't a dream walking, I don't know what is!