Halifax kicks off its 28th annual Pride festival this week, and while many of my queer sidekicks are giddy with shirtless, crotch-pulsing enthusiasm, I am not among them.
I remember well my first official Halifax pride. Twas the summer of 2009, and I had just come out—publicly, in the pages of Frank, no less—three months before. After years of sitting on the sidelines, struggling with my own sexual identity and trying in vain to fend off the “demons,” I was finally free to let my thinning hair down and be myself. Betwixt the unbridled drinking and non-stop dancing, I experienced a camaraderie that week I’d never before known. Surrounded by queers of every age, size, shape and colour, everything (except maybe the hangovers) seemed magical.
I’ve never again felt that same sense of belonging or euphoria during Pride—at least here in Halifax. In fact, last year, I left town altogether and this year, I have similar plans. Why? I’m not entirely certain. Maybe it’s the ghosts of gay prides past that continue to haunt my former social circle. Maybe it’s the fact that the camaraderie I experienced that first summer has since been replaced by oversexed “friends” who would thoughtlessly throw me in front of a fast-moving bus to get closer to their next conquest. Or maybe I’m just a bitter old queen, exhausted by conversations that barely evolve beyond the “top or bottom?” question, or the shameless co-opting of the rainbow flag by Pride-sponsoring corporations.
Either way, I will not be participating.
But lest I end up being labelled a self-hating homo, I’d like to make it clear that my personal biases (and I freely admit, they are personal), do not stand in the way of my overall support for the gay community or the gay pride movement.
We often take for granted that, in this country, we are free to openly kiss the person we love (or drunkenly think we do) regardless of sex or gender and without fear of persecution, or worse, prosecution.
In 1976, two men were charged with and subsequently convicted of indecency for kissing at Toronto’s Bloor and Yonge Streets. Today, gay marriage is a decade-old, nation-wide institution. This move didn’t happen overnight.
By comparison, homosexuality remains a criminal act in 36 of Africa’s 54 countries, with gay marriage being legal in just one—South Africa.
Here, Pride festivities allow us the freedom to officially celebrate who we are (even if we don’t like each other), without having to worry about the arrival of tear gas-wielding, rubber bullet-firing police. Individuals taking part in a peaceful parade in Istanbul last month were not so fortunate. Sadly these sorts of incidents are far from isolated and will only end with perseverance and a united desire for change.
So even though you won’t see this bitter old queen at any of the festival’s events this year, rest assured that I am nonetheless aware, and grateful that I am free to make the choice.
Happy Pride!
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Scenes from growing up gay in small-town Nova Scotia
This article appears in Jul 16-22, 2015.
It’s odd that someone who ran a magazine filled with ads and gay culture would critique a festival for being too corporate and filled with gay culture. All valid critiques, but perhaps this is why Gaze dissolved.
Waste of a platform. I wish the Coast would have skipped this whiny little rant. There has to be some better reflection on Gay Pride out there than this … and if it has to be negative, at least from some place a bit more reflective and critical than “oh poor me, all my friends are shallow and no one likes me or wants to have exhausting long coffee talk and take longs walk on the beach with me…I’m a bitter old queen…” I’d say you are bitter, but rather not that old and I’d hardly say a queen.
To reflect on pride at that level seems to take so much away from the festival’s progression. A progression easily forgotten for someone who came out in 2009…long after the times where the pride parade was protested, fought, and ridiculed. When people were fighting to be themselves yet had to wear a bag over their head for fear of retribution for participating. When young men of an entire generation were dropping from HIV related illness and no one fucking cared enough to do anything about it until a movement bursted from within the gay community and demanded attention.
The fact that pride has become a huge party (one of the biggest festivals in the biggest city in Nova Scotia) should be more of a reason to celebrate. To have corporate sponsorship can be annoying (it’s all about the gay dollar) but it is a fact and a necessity in any large festival. And, it sends a message–you are valuable and you are a part of our society (mainstream). Pride is not just a party and a parade where you can break out your assless chaps and play with water guns on the back of a mack truck. There is more to it–much more important activities that continue the activism and allow us not to forget the deep history that got us here today. It is a movement. And, I suppose anyone can mark pride in their own way– even leaving town if you can’t feel that you have some contribution to make. But, I hardly think that’s what you are doing. Sounds more like you lament the pressure of trying to get laid at “gay Christmas” so you’re taking your toys and throwing them out of the pram, so to speak.
If you can’t do anything but bemoan your bitter old queen status (even though you are only 6 years out yourself), save the ink for someone who can make a difference with their words. Someone who might have something positive to say to a self-hating, shame filled gay or trans youth who could really use the positive message of acceptance and “it gets better” right now. If you can take a minute to read Sherwood’s article, you can see that there’s still a huge fucking need for positivity, light and safety for many gay, bi, trans, queer people young and old. There’s still a need for the PFLAG and Parents of Trangender floats for those kids scrounging for the courage to come out, or those who have been beaten or said terrible things to them after coming out. Maybe someone could use this space to write something that would give hope to those who are feeling alone and isolated.