Pride

After she helped me attach the rainbow flag to the corner railing of my balcony, Stacy said, “Now everyone’s going to think you’re gay.”

I was so surprised to hear her say that. It’s not that I’m surprised about the rainbow flag being associated with the gay community – of course I’m not. I had spent Saturday morning volunteering at the Equality March check-in site in Highland Square and the bulk of the afternoon at Pride Fest. I’d worn a rainbow-striped hat, sports bra and tank top all day while hanging out with lesbians and drag queens. Stacy and I had held hands and kissed frequently at the event.

How much gayer could I get?

What surprised me was that Stacy could still default to such cautions about public opinion. She makes no bones about her own identification. At the volunteer training a couple weeks ago, we were given name tags that had a place for one’s name and then, “My preferred pronouns are…”

When she filled out her name tag at the training – and again at the parade check-in on Saturday – Stacy put her pronouns as “dyke.”

The trainers talked about how introducing yourself to new people by saying, “Hi, my name is so-and-so, and my preferred pronouns are she/her/her” would make it clear that you are accepting of all orientations and identities, and that you would be sensitive to referring to people in a way that is comfortable for them. You would be, in essence, creating a safe space. It’s like a secret handshake, they said.

Stacy and some of her friends had been a bit confused by this uber-politically-correct language. I got it right away, though. I understand that it can feel a little cumbersome to make such a labored point about pronouns, but not as cumbersome as having to absorb everyone else’s discomfort over not being able to fit you neatly into one of two boxes. If you don’t appear to be entirely feminine or masculine in the traditional sense, you might find that some people don’t know how to address you. Giving them a heads-up to the pronouns you’d like seems like meeting more than halfway.

I never did have an opportunity to greet anyone with my prepared pronoun speech at Pride Fest. It seemed like everyone there had marked out their own territory and was fairly content just letting their personal freak flags fly.

I’m sure there were some straight people there, but it was refreshingly difficult to tell who they were. Probably the cops – but that’s quite an assumption.

I think my favorite aspect of the entire event was the overall sense of acceptance that filled the park. No matter what you were wearing – and I saw leather dog masks, a pantyhose and hot pants combo, full-on furry mascot costumes, tube tops, big bellies, sky-high heels and hairy everything – you fit in. There was androgyny, cross-dressing, dressing up and dressing down in every possible combination.

There was spontaneous conversation in every line I had to wait in – for the bathroom, for food, for the trolley. I talked to old friends, new friends, strangers, children, cops. I witnessed a few same-sex weddings under the colorful balloons at the smaller stage. I shared a bathroom and a few jokes with a man I didn’t know who was only interested in peeing, as was I.

When I rocked out to the headliner, whom I hadn’t heard of before, I felt freer than I have in a long time. I can be self-conscious about dancing in public. My days of delivering singing telegrams resurface in anxiety about being over-sexualized and objectified. But at Pride Fest, the dancing was all about joy.

Stacy took a short video of me dancing without my knowing about it. I generally don’t like photos or video of myself, but this one I don’t mind. I actually look happy, joyous, free. The funny thing is, that’s really how I felt in the moment. I was moved by the music, not by how I thought I might look to others. And that is unusual for me.

I am proud that I could feel so free even for a few minutes. I realize that freedom is even harder for some others to find, so I want to honor that fleeting sense of freedom and safety with a rainbow flag on my balcony.

More, though, I want to honor that sense of freedom by welcoming it into my day-to-day life more often. I really do want to dance like no one’s watching, love like I’ve never been hurt and try like there’s no harm in failing. And if I can make it just a tiny bit easier for anyone else to feel safe enough to be that free, then I am proud of that, too.