Pride 2015

Church Street. Monday morning. 

Cars drive by. 20 or so people are walking. Some stop at Starbucks for a coffee on the way to work. A dog, tied to a pole waiting for its owner, barks at a passing truck. 2 men walk down the street holding hands, whispering to each other and laughing. A woman stops to buy some fruit. There are a few people sitting on the steps of the BMO. And a teenager is camped out on the corner asking for change. 

A typical Monday morning in The Village. 

The only evidence that anything happened is the glitter on the road, which will be washed away by Tuesday's forecasted rain. 

Pride Week is over. 

My first Pride was in 1994. I was 17 and a baby dyke. I was excited and shy and nervous and overwhelmed. And back then it wasn't nearly as huge as the 1,000,000 + people who descend on Toronto to celebrate these days. I didn't even know that there was more than just the parade on Sunday. My friends and I took the subway to Yonge and Bloor and had no idea where to go next. A woman hobbled by with a rainbow flag sticking out of a cast on her leg. So we asked her where to go. 

We stepped out into an enormous crowd and watched happy people celebrating in the street. I had found where I belonged. 

Let me go back. 

17 and a baby dyke. My coming out story is short and sweet. I was a straight girl who was boy crazy and constantly in love with one guy or another until one day I wasn't. 

It was April 1, 1994. I was in the front foyer at school. A graduate, F, was visiting the school for an event they were hosting. I had met F in grade 9. She initiated me by writing "niner" across my chest. I had thought she was a boy. I had thought she was a cute boy. 

We were standing in a small circle that day in April. F and some friends of mine. It was just after my 17th birthday. Someone asked F what she wanted to do when she grew up. F reached out and stroked my cheek and said "I'm going to marry April." 

Everyone laughed and the conversation continued. 

Everyone laughed but me. F marry me? I still thought F was cute, even though she was a girl. Maybe it didn't matter. So the next step was obvious. I gave her my phone number. 

That night she called me and asked me out. I said yes. I hung up the phone and said to myself, "holy shit, I just made a date with a lesbian!" I cried. 

For a minute or two. 

Then I wiped away my tears. Took a deep breath. And thought, I guess I'm a lesbian too. 

And that was it. 

Shortly after that I started to come out to my friends. I don't even remember how or when. It wasn't a big deal. Nothing had really changed. Except that instead of being boy crazy, I was madly in love with F. 

I'm 38 and I still haven't officially "come out" to my parents. I never thought I should have to. My brother didn't have to come out as straight. So why should I have to say out loud that I'm a lesbian. 

When I was 20, I brought my girlfriend home from university for a visit. Before she arrived, I was trying on a dress and I said to my mom "I just want you to know that I'm dating her." My mom didn't even blink and replied "I know that already. What? Do you think I'm stupid?" My response was "no, but this dress doesn't fit." 

And that was it. 

5 years after that, I started dating DP. 

This year was our 14th Pride Week together. 

Pride week in Toronto started as a riot and turned into a giant week long party. Although it has become commercialized and a major cash grab (like the $9 French fries I had on Sunday!!) its mere existence is a political statement. 

I love Pride and I hate Pride. 

It is hot and crowded and expensive and sometimes it feels like we crawl out of the woodwork and then disappear again until the next year when we are allowed to take over the streets of The Village. 

It is also important. 

The Pride movement was born out of the Stonewall Rebellion in 1969 when the police raided the Stonewall Inn, a gay bar in New York's Greenwich Village. That night, the queers fought back. It was an historic moment. Thousands of angry queers raging in the streets with the message: we aren't going to take it anymore! Last week the Stonewall Inn was declared an historical site. 

Pride happens around the world. 

June 2015, the Supreme Court of the USA declared same-sex marriage legal. This matters. 

I don't particularly care about same-sex marriage to be honest. There are millions of people around the world suffering from war, slavery, civil unrest, oppression, child labour, and unimaginable atrocities. At the same time, a powerful country like the United States recognizing marriage rights of same-sex couples is a big move. It is a move towards human rights in North America. It is a model for the rest of the world. It is a way to ensure that same-sex couples can inherit, can be co-parents, can make medical decisions for their spouses. 

And yet, we mustn't forget that in more that 80 countries, homosexuality is still illegal. Here in Canada, queers are still underemployed, ostrisized, and face discrimination and violence in their daily lives. Young queers commit, or attempt, suicide. And Trans visibility and rights are a challenging battle. 

So Pride Week matters. 

This year, it rained the entire weekend! But that didn't stop us from celebrating. 

It began with the Trans march on Friday night. Thousands of Trans people and their allies took to the streets and demonstrated their right to exist. To be seen. To be free. 

Saturday, the Dyke march.  An event for queer women to take their space in the world and celebrate their right to be. 

The Dyke march begins with dykes on bikes. A symbol of strength and, well ... coolness. I mean, C'mon. They're dykes on bikes!!  

Rainbows are EVERYWHERE!! It gets kinda cheesy after awhile. But you gotta love a rainbow. 

Each colour of the flag represents a part of Pride. 

Red: life

Orange: healing

Yellow: sunlight

Green: nature

Blue: harmony

Purple: spirit

Back in the good ol' days, before the amazing renovation of the 519 Community Centre, there was a wadding pool that was fenced off as part of the beer garden. Queer women would gather there on dyke day to frolic with their friends or their children. To cool off after the hot march through the streets of the city. 

This year, despite their being no pool, queers celebrated their day soaking wet in the rain. And it didn't stop anyone from frolicking or dancing. 

Pride is a time for celebration. And it's also a time to people watch. To cruise. To explore your sexuality. To play with your visibility. To experiment with your fantasies and desires. And quite frankly to pick up and be picked up. Free condoms are available in the thousands and safety is encouraged. 

Pride is a time to dress your best. To strut your stuff. To express your identity. To be visible. 

When I was younger, we would buy tickets to dances and pack into bars like sardines. We would dance the night away with our friends and with strangers. These days, we find ourselves "too old" for such things. We enjoy going to parties. Spending time with friends. Celebrating life and love and friendship. 

When I was a baby dyke, I found myself drawn to a woman-centred bookstore. There I met a woman named E. She was so very kind to me and allowed me to hang out at the bookstore talking. I didn't know any queer people. I didn't have any role models. I put E on a pedestal and took in everything she said. One day, in reference to F, she said "it takes all kind of people to make up this world." That sentiment stayed with me. 

Pride is a time when queers of all kinds celebrate and express who they are. Everyone is welcome. Everyone belongs. 

Queers, lesbians, gays, dykes, Trans, bisexuals, intersex, leather, bears, pansexual, polyamorous, genderqueer, rubber, BDSM, daddies, gym queens, drag queens, drag kings, androgynous, asexual, cisgender, genderless, questioning, two-spirited, twinks, tops, bottoms, dominants, submissives, cubs, otters, lipsticks, butches, femmes, celesbians, kink, vanilla, bulldagers, chickens, gold star lesbians, soft butches, stone butches, pillow queens, kikis, bois, sporty dykes, baby dykes, curious, fetish, and all the other people I have missed. 

We all belong. 

I am idealizing Pride. There are of course pockets of judgemental and discriminating queers on the streets. There are protestors who tell us we are going to burn in hell. There are straight tourists filming us, gawking, and pointing like we are animals in the zoo. 

But none of this stops us from celebrating. 

People create elaborate costumes. Wear very little. Or wear nothing at all. There are flowers and feathers and glitter. There are people painted, people in mascot outfits, cops in uniforms with rainbow flags hanging from their holsters, and people with body parts hanging free. 

And of course there are the drag queens. gorgeous queens in the most elaborate gowns and outfits you can possibly imagine. Full make up. Large hair. Crowns and jewelry. And eyelashes that go on forever. 

Pride. 

It's about celebrating who we are. Our right to exist. Our right to be free. It's about justice and struggle and our history. It's about family and friends. It's about raising a generation of acceptance. 

And most of all, Pride is about love. 

Be kind to yourself, 

xoxo

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