Why Pride? A reply.

Foreword

June 2002

I wrote the following piece about three years ago in response to a friend. In fact, the friend was one of my high school French language teachers, Mme. Margo Weber. In months just prior to receiving Margo's e-mail, I told her that I was gay. She reacted positively -- as I had anticipated -- although, I knew Margo was a "traditional" woman living in rural Ontario. So, after she watched clips of the Pride celebrations in Toronto on television, her questions and reactions neither surprised nor offended me.

A few years have passed since my reply to Margo. And sadly, at an early age, Margo herself has passed on. Last year, I visited her on campus, in the hospital. We had a delightful discussion. A few months later, I received the sad news by e-mail from another of Margo's friends. My shock and despair were deepened upon learning that I had missed the funeral. Thus, I dedicate this piece to her memory -- to her joviality, patience, openness, and friendship. Margo was a gentle, passionate teacher with a big heart.

Looking back, I remember sharing this piece with a very close friend. His main criticism was that my reference to the "three, burly, young men" was too melodramatic and seemed to reaffirm the stereotypical juxtaposition of effeminate, helpless gay men and threatening, aggressive (presumably) straight men. I agreed with him, in part, but my recount was as I had experienced it. So, I left the piece untouched and then sent it to a larger, public audience throughout the internet.

Within the last year, I moved to Toronto and became rather active politically. Yet, despite these recent changes in the direction of my life, I still hold the views I expressed to Margo a few years ago. However, because of recent life experiences, if I was replying to Margo today, then I would likely emphasize different themes -- and downplay others. My political involvement, for example, has led me to march in this year's parade with an activist contingent under the banner, "people not profit." Moreover, for the first time in my life, I was recently gay-bashed; thankfully, I survived the incident with minor injuries. (The violent attack was a sucker-punch in the mouth -- resulting in my own "blood on the dance floor.")

In other words, I'd probably add emphasis to the notion that one can never be too careful. And I'd likely advocate -- in stronger terms -- for a more humanity-focused Pride with the aim of building towards global peace, justice, and liberation from oppression and economic exploitation. Pride serves certain positive purposes, but it could -- and should -- rid itself of corporate influence while simultaneously challenging police and state repression. Indeed, a better world is possible, and I think that the humanistic ethos of Pride would be a good start.

Though I've already written -- by way of introduction -- far more than I had planned to, I wish to conclude with words borrowed from the author of another e-mail that was recently forwarded to me:

"As long as gay teenagers are disproportionately at risk of suicide, we will have a Gay Pride Day. As long as Canadians are still beaten or murdered for being lesbian or gay, we will have a Gay Pride Day. As long as the government will not allow us to marry the person of our choice, we will have a Gay Pride Day. As long as people are still denied jobs, promotions or denied accommodation because of their sexual orientation, we will have a Gay Pride Day. As long as we are still made to feel uncomfortable when holding the hand of a partner while walking down the street, we will have a Gay Pride Day. As long as our books are still censored by the government and banned from schools, we will have a Gay Pride Day. As long as our relationships remain unrecognized in hundreds of provincial and territorial laws, we will have a Gay Pride Day."

I hope that even after justice is ours we will continue to have Pride -- and the conviction to spread justice to others.

* * *

Why Pride? A reply.
Richard S. Telfer
London, Ontario, Canada (c. 1999)

What follows is my response to an e-mail from a friend.

Let me begin by stating that I can't possibly speak on behalf of every gay, lesbian, bisexual, and/or transgender(ed) person. As a young, white, Anglo, decidedly middle-class and "rural-turned-urban" gay male, my perspective is just that -- my own. Nonetheless, although my standpoint is privileged in many ways, I strive to be self-reflexive and always critical, to see (myself in) the bigger picture and to identify what one might call "common threads" (though, certainly not "universals"). Having disclaimed as such, I'll do my best to answer your questions -- but I'll wrap it with a narrative.

Last Friday I had an appointment with a close friend to have my hair cut and styled (he's a hair stylist) just before the big Toronto Pride weekend. When we were finished, we crossed the street from the salon to one of London's more, shall we say "high-brow" and "artsy" coffee shops where we joked, chatted, gossiped, and made loose plans for the weekend, all in the company of another friend. We're all gay -- some more "obviously so" than others.

Just before parting from one another on the street, outside of the coffee shop's doors, I kissed my friend (the hair stylist) on the lips as part of our "good bye" -- as we usually do. In a short performance of humility, our 40-something year-old friend cringed and light-heartedly scoffed. But for the two of us, there was no shame -- until we noticed a table of three, burly, young men at a nearby table on the terrace, all sporting dark clothing and sunglasses, over which they glared at us in silence. Their reaction was less an act of surprise than a gesture of intimidation. Our own response went unspoken, but my friend's eyes reflected my mixed-bag of sentiments: fear, embarrassment, and anger. We parted. I couldn't help looking over my shoulder as I walked alone toward the bus stop. You can never be too careful.

After watching some of the Gay Pride parade telecast from Toronto, you stated that "it all seemed rather artificial, contrived, self-conscious, and freakish." And after reading the Sunday Star's articles you felt somewhat "offset by the issue." Where do I begin?

I did, of course, attend the Gay Pride celebrations in Toronto with my boyfriend. I also read some of the newspaper coverage of the event. Let me remind you that the press is, by its very nature, "artificial." Nothing can capture "eventness" in the same way that actual, lived experience can. Our modern methods of mass communication both beget and epitomize artificiality, especially when they're not self-reflexive. Similarly, any narrative is "contrived." Just as my recount of the event is rationally ordered and selectively pieced together, so too are news stories.

My 48-hour experience of Gay Pride was no less than carnivalesque. The festivities were a hullabaloo of laughter, music, dancing, interaction, performance, dialogue, absurdity, contradiction, tension, compromise, negotiation, food and drink. Gay Pride is a kaleidoscope of real, thriving, "queer" culture. Of course, there were schedules and line-ups, maps, fences, parking attendants, authority figures, and the usual, predictable clusters of vendors and opportunists. Nudists planned to be nude -- or at least, almost nude -- and drag queens planned to don outrageous wigs, pumps, and colourful gowns. Many -- "boys" and "girls" alike -- couldn't wait to exhibit their chests. Others couldn't wait to witness it.

If "to contrive" means to self-stylize with ingenuity and creativity, then I agree that Gay Pride is, in many ways, contrived at both the individual and collective levels. But Gay Pride is not contrived in the negative sense; it isn't conspiratorial, and it does not adhere to minute details of a rationally construed program. Above all, Gay Pride is about being oneself, or experimenting with new forms of oneself. It's not about being "fake." On the contrary, Gay Pride is about honesty, if nothing else.

I'm not sure what you mean by "self-conscious." Again, this is one of those concepts with a dual connotation. In a positive sense, it can mean "to be aware of oneself as an individual" or to be self-aware and in control of one's own destiny. Negatively, it means to be "uncomfortably" aware of oneself or "ill at ease" -- to feel ashamed before an audience. Let me sort this out by saying this: the former connotation reflects the way I felt at Gay Pride; the latter reflects the way I felt after I kissed my friend outside of the coffee shop in London. Thus, Gay Pride resembles a cultural oasis on the enormous terrain of a dry, asphyxiating mainstream. And, in any case, I'd rather be self-conscious than unconscious.

"Freakish" indeed! It's not every day that one has the opportunity to see what exists beyond the mundane boundaries of the normal. Gay Pride represents a rupture in mainstream culture in which humility and hilarity may be conjoined in innovative ways that both entertain and enlighten. It's ever-so puzzling to me that transvestism and nudity are perceived by some to be infinitely offensive and yet "dressing up" is a built-in feature of many mainstream rituals, while nudity is a basic, human and dare-I-say "natural" state. Let's face it, the Gay Pride parade is just that: a parade. The parade is a steady flow of theatre and conscious-raising. The parade is an avenue for diverse, marginalized voices and the subversion of suffocating normalcy. Without its circus-like features, the parade would not be a parade.

"Is all this parade stuff intended to draw awareness to homosexuality?" No. I think that Gay Pride celebrations (including the parades) have much larger "purposes." One might say that there are both "internal" and "external" goals. Internally, Gay Pride brings together diverse individuals for the purposes of networking and effecting understanding. The availability of otherwise unknown resources for people in need becomes public knowledge. The celebration allows friends who haven't been in particularly close touch for some time to check up on one another -- to ensure that they're in good health and that they're taking care of themselves. The night clubs, dance parties, and street festivals enable singles to meet others, to form new relationships, and -- if so desired -- to get sex. Gay Pride provides a sense of community, belonging, and solidarity to people from all walks of life.

Perhaps the "external" goals of Gay Pride have become less important since the 1970s. I often hear members of older generations lament that Gay Pride has lost it's original meaning and purpose. Maybe, maybe not. Nevertheless, it seems obvious that Gay Pride has evolved, in some sense. For better or worse, Gay Pride has become more commercialized and corporately sponsored. On the surface, Gay Pride seems to have less to do with politics and resistance and more to do with pleasure and aesthetics.

And yet, I think that the "original meaning and purpose" of Gay Pride has been preserved. I don't necessarily think that politics and resistance are incompatible with pleasure and aesthetics. After all, it seems to me that the political front emerged in defense of particular desires and styles of living. Some ground has been gained, and although the face of Gay Pride has changed, without it the solidarity necessary for larger cultural and political battles would be difficult to invoke. If nothing else, Gay Pride reminds the mainstream of our presence, pride, and perseverance.

Back in London. I just returned from a relaxing evening at the same coffee shop where I was glared at for being gay. I sat on the terrace with my boyfriend and two female colleagues, only a table or two away from the one where my opposition had been sitting four days earlier. I wondered if they were around. And when I parted from my boyfriend -- he had to leave the city -- there was an inkling of concern inside of me for his safety as he walked down the street. You can never be too careful.

But the experiential residue of the weekend's events gave me comfort. Gay Pride reminded me of a number of things: there is power in numbers; we must take care of each other; we must communicate; together, we must laugh, dance, eat and drink; above all, we must respect and remain open to differences, to negotiate the terms of our relationships continually, and to venture into new spaces with pride, every day.