On Sunday morning, following much preening and fluttering, we trouped down to the Praça da Estação. The city was still waking up, but as we approached, we could already hear the rumor of a crowd and music.
At one end of the square: an enormous stage covered in sound equipment and drag queens. Under an increasingly hot winter sun, we met people and drank, circulating occasionally in search of shade. I didn't pay much attention to the lip synced drag shows or the speeches by public figures eager to assert their support for human rights.I was too busy watching the crowd. Besides, campy entertainment and political mobilization were obviously not the point.
People were there to hook up S. E. X...
Even the festive atmosphere was a facade. Music blaring, confetti spraying, people dancing and kissing... basically a gay bar that's spilled into the streets. You get used to people not really paying attention as you talk to them. Everyone is looking for two things: a pretty face (or a passable one) and a willing disposition.
Seeing as I already had a date, I plodded along with one hand tightly gripping Ricardo's, the other shoved firmly into my pocket with my camera and money. Still, someone managed to get his phone number into my pocket without my realizing it - honestly I'm just impressed more than anything.
Poor Ricardo... one of the most intelligent, respectable guys I've ever met (he's a lawyer for an NGO, representing disadvantaged workers for crying out loud) he was the one who got an egg in the shoulder. Just as the parade was beginning, a punk kid started dancing up on him. When he pushed the partier away, I saw his cell phone had been nudged half way out of his pocket.
All along the trajectory, the people leaned out their windows watching the giddy crowd below. Along the street, people broke rank to urinate in a corner or to make out. I really didn't see many of the infamous exhibitionists, the traditional staple of gay pride parades. The two I saw in their underwear, one with angel wings and his little tush hanging out, were so young I'm not sure I can even call them men.
I would compare these two to the teenager who gets a bellybutton ring without asking her mom. Bucking society by flaunting norms... but in the process flaunting good judgment (and taste) as well.
Sadly, my friends, after my first gay pride parade, I must join the naysayers. A gay pride parade has little to do with empowerment. Pride might begin with a public demonstration like this. But an adult, hopefully, takes his or her independent identity for granted... Asserting oneself, making one's own life choices... and respecting other people's autonomy are some of the sweetest rewards of adulthood.
The goal is to move society in this direction. I'm not sure filling the streets with piss and loud music is the best way...
The real work of change happens in the courts. Not tolerating discrimination at work, in public life. Taking the trouble. Protesting. Integrity in your public, professional life. Writing. Speaking. Voting. You really don't need a crowd to help you with that...
In daily life, it's the courage to refer to my "boyfriend" instead of my "friend." Taking his hand on the bus - not to shock, but because I care for him and I expect others to respect that.
After walking for eight hours, though, I was holding my boyfriend's hand mainly because my legs were about to give way with every step. My little weightlifting feat a few days ago had come back to haunt me.
I think that's what it's all about. Someone willing to brave the snickers of ignorant people to hold you up when you're about to fall on your ass.
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I really like how this post moved along and developed :)
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