Pride and Prejudice, but mostly PRIDE
PRIDE is a strange brew of joy, celebration, fierce activism countering the fear and violence queer and trans people face daily.
On some holidays, like Valentine’s day, we (North Americans) agree to dedicate our attention to romantic love.
And during PRIDE all the flavors of the LGBTQ+ spectrum get some national attention.
Stores fill with rainbow apparel. Houses of worship in liberal places peddle belonging, festooning their buildings with welcome and colorful banners reading things like, “In God’s House, All are Welcome!”
There are parties, parades, art events, dances, glittering galas, drag shows.
When I lived in San Francisco, we called the month of June “Gay Christmas.”
We celebrate, we commune with each other, and for a moment, it feels safer and more wonderful to be alive.
I traveled to DC this week, and everywhere I went, there were signs of businesses catering to LGBTQ+ customers, remnants of the Poor People’s Campaign with trans flags, streamers and flags.
It’s beautiful to see.
And yet on June 12, 31 members of the white nationalist Patriot Front were arrested near an Idaho Pride event.
They were packed in a rental truck, intent to wreak violence and chaos in the midst of queer joy.
Why?
No matter how hard I try, I can’t grok it, other than queer people are free, and that is not okay in a “democracy.”
We change our names. Our pronouns. Our hair color.
We love who and how we want, liberated from the shackles of heteronormativity and monogamy.
We make up our own gender roles.
Commune with our ancestors. Provide the tenderest of care and mutual aid.
Dance wearing too much glitter. As if.
I mean, if I saw a bunch of people experiencing the freedom and fun and play that my queer friends do… well, I’d be jealous too. “Why do they get to have that, and I don’t?” I can imagine my bitter heart berating.
It’s not super helpful to polarize into us and them, but how do I talk about the people who choose to spend their precious time in a body trying to hurt and control others?
Like, don’t you have any hobbies that are more interesting than hate and violence?
Because we sure do. Girl, you think putting on eyelashes is easy??
We’ve got no time to think about you and your anger, because we’re busy over here having a GRAND FUCKING TIME!
And you know what?
We are a welcoming, inclusive bunch.
So if you ever wanna stop playing GI Joe, and have complicated intimacy, learn how to queer process and let us put you into some gold booty shorts without getting a wedgy, well, you know where to find us. Follow the rainbow.
But seriously. PRIDE matters for all people because a diversity of being is always more resilient than monolithic culture to which all adhere.
Queer people make more space in society for all types of sexuality and gender.
More space benefits all of us.
Space where your expression of self isn’t regulated by the social conditioning you have received but rather guided by what beauty wants to emerge from your spirit.
The following piece was written by Robert Dennick Joki, AKA Starrlet O’Hara, who lives where I grew up.
A conservative, solidly red state that tries to squash queerness, but as Starrlet’s piece attests, cannot.
Several things strike me about this piece:
Starrlet’s mastery of reactivity: they don’t follow their violent impulses, giving themselves a moment, a sacred pause.
Their capacity in the moment to recognize the danger to not only themselves, but the young minds who are observing and consider the safety of all involved.
The faith in magick they trust that if they open their mouth, somehow the exact right thing would come out.
This is queer resistance, and activism born of practice, love, and sparkle.
I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. Cue the tissues.
Regarding The Incident At PRIDE
Robert Dennick Joki, AKA Starrlet O’Hara
First and foremost, I need to thank everyone who has reached out to me this week. If I haven’t responded, please know that I do appreciate your concern and your kind words. I just needed a minute to process this before I addressed it.
I was on stage for our Rust Belt Theater family friendly Kids Show, getting ready to announce the next performer… When a man with a megaphone rushed out of the crowd. He called me a “pervert.” He said that I was “grooming” and “indoctrinating” children. He was also filming my reaction.
My first instinct was to tackle him. I did not. My second instinct was to scream back at him. I did not. I have been doing theater for children for over 25 years. As a performer I am always hyper aware of my audience and what I consider to be APPROPRIATE, especially when it comes to young people. In the words of the late, great Stephen Sondheim:
“Careful the things you say,
children will listen.
Careful things you do,
children will see.
And learn.”
What I COULD do, was counter his message with my own, because the only way to banish the DARKNESS is to turn on a LIGHT. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and started to sing. The first words that came to my mouth were…
“Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high…”
It’s a song my Nana used to sing to me, probably the first song I ever learned all of the words to. It has always been a source of comfort for me when I needed it, and in that moment it was there for me once again.
The man with megaphone got LOUDER. He began to circle me, getting closer, becoming more and more agitated, screaming at the crowd…The crowd of CHILDREN, telling them I was a MONSTER. I was terrified, but I was determined not to show it.
“There’s a land that I heard of once in a lullaby.”
Then something unexpected happened…One by one, beginning with Esther Gin and Mrs. Goutfire, the other performers joined me. They linked arms with me, and started to sing along. We were then joined by people in the audience, singing in unison. Together we drowned his message of HATE with our message of HOPE. He had a megaphone, but I had a family.
In the end he ran off, pursued not by parents, not by security, but by queer and nonbinary teenagers. They were wearing pride flags as capes, like the heroes that they are.
“Birds fly over the rainbow, why then oh why can’t I?”
By the end of the song, the darkness was gone, banished by the light. By progress. By the future. Afterward, several people asked me if it was all part of the show. I promise you it was not
After it happened I was determined not to let anyone see me cry. I took a moment in the dressing room to get myself together, and we just continued with the show…Because that’s what we do. And what we do is important. This incident was a reminder of just HOW important.
Anyway….thank you for indulging me, and allowing me to get this out. I have been struggling with it all week and I’m hoping that writing down the experience will ease my mind a little. The anxiety, and especially the nightmares have been brutal. My mind is not always as kind to me as perhaps it should be.
“If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow…Why, oh why can’t I?”
Please know that I love all of you, no matter what.
Here is a photo from that day with my two nieces, Ellie and Ema, who rode on the pride float with me.
“Careful the tale you tell
That is the spell,
Children will listen...”
