I would never march in the Pride Parade . . .
“The reason why PRIDE is important is because it’s the antidote to SHAME.”
– eduardo placer
Friday, June 14, 2024
“I can’t understand why anyone would ever march in a Pride Parade!”
I came out as a gay man in the Fall of 1995 . . . before Will & Grace and Ellen.
I was 18 years old and a freshman at the University of Pennsylvania. As I started the integration process of saying and speaking out loud my deepest and darkest secret, I clung to this belief that a Pride Parade was wholly unnecessary.
Being surrounded by unapologetic, loud, and flamboyant queer people was NOT the greatest strategy to gain acceptance. I remember explicitly telling my godfather and his partner (now husband), when I came out to them, that I would never go to a Pride Parade.
Well never say never.
In the summer of 1997, I found myself in Manhattan with my godfather and his partner, on the final weekend in June. I had been out at that point for almost two years, getting more and more comfortable being “out” in public . . . and let’s be honest, Fifth Avenue in Manhattan at noon is public AF.
I have two – clear memories:
- The Gay Marching Band led by a slender, fabulous, African-American, gay man wearing a baby blue jumper, twirling a baton. I swear I had never seen someone twirl a baton as high or spin as fast as that queen. She kicked, she marched, and she SNATCHED that baton like it was an extension of her body. I was envious of their grace and ferocity and remembered how in kindergarten I would stare at the girls baton twirling, desperately wanting to be a part of that world. (Little Mermaid reference intended.)
- The minute of silence at 2:00PM in memory of all who had perished of A.I.D.S. The cheers, the music, the clapping came to a halt and Fifth Avenue was covered in a blanket of silence. After two minutes, a tidal ROOOOOOOAAAAAAAAARRR overcame the island of Manhattan. There was a tsunami of sound – screams, shouts, whistles, horns . . . a defiant and unequivocal gesture of simultaneous grief and joy.
We’re here. We’re alive. DON’T RAIN ON OUR PARADE!
This year I mark 29 years as an out gay man. During Pride Month, there will be many who will question the need – to celebrate the LGBTQ+ community or the effectiveness of parades led by dykes on bikes, radical faeries, and half-naked queers prancing to the latest pop anthem.
Some of those voices even come from our very own community.
According to the ACLU, 510 Anti-Trans and LGBTQ+ bills were introduced in state legislatures in 2023, almost three times as many as 2022. I can think of no better way to mark this moment: Gathering collectively with our allies to grieve who and what we have lost, neutralize the fear felt by our community’s most vulnerable who are under constant attack, and face the future, courageously together.
Our bullies may have gotten bigger, angrier, and louder.
But hunny . . . our baby blue jumpers still fit like a glove, our kicks have gotten higher, our batons twirl faster and ain’t nothing going to silence our radical love and joy.
Our roar is only getting louder . . . HAPPY PRIDE!
Fearlessly Yours,
Eduardo
