Yesterday, I went to my first Pride. Well, to be technical, my 1.5th Pride.
Around 15 years ago, after I first came out, I was supposed to meet friends at a Pride celebration. I got there separately and, as I was parking my car, a passel of presumably gay men walked in front of me. I say presumably as there was one Liza Minelli, one original and VERY elaborate drag queen, and three men in various bits of leather, one on a leash.
I decided this was NOT my scene and drove home immediately.
I would like to say my attitudes have mellowed/changed over the years, but truth is drag queens and leather daddy’s still wig my shit out. To be fair, I think it’s more that they offend my aesthetic of appropriate public conduct, like Renaissance Fair performers who wear their costumes in non-Renaissance Fair situations, emos and hippies. It might be internalized homophobia (and there are many who would be quick to label it as such), but c’est la vie.
So it still wasn’t my scene, but then again, judging by the attendance, it wasn’t much of anyone’s scene anymore.
