I
was pushed into finally getting up from my desk and going on vacation this last
weekend; a task I should try to do more often in general. My girlfriend Jamie wanted to go to San
Francisco, where she used to live. It
ended up being the perfect weekend for this, as we left on Friday, June 26th,
a day which will live in the history books as the day homosexuals won the right
to marry everywhere in the United States.
There
could be no more perfect place to go than San Francisco on a day like that. This is the city that has typically been
accepted as the mecca for gay rights. And
to place the cherry on top, it was Gay Pride Weekend. We expected it to be hopping with
celebrations when we arrived. Our only
fear was the amount of traffic that was likely awaiting us.
We
were pleasantly surprised to find there wasn’t much traffic at all. This was soon to turn into a
disappointment. There really wasn’t much
celebrating going on. Everywhere we went
was business as usual. There was
apparently one area of town that was celebrating, but the city in general was
pretty darn quiet.
Late
on Friday night, (close to midnight) we heard booming. Jamie and I feared it was explosions, then we
thought it was dumpsters being moved, and at last we realized it was
fireworks. I ran outside in my sock
feet, anxious to finally see celebrating happening. But there was none. The few people I came upon seemed annoyed by
the fireworks, and uninterested in their meaning. I followed the sound one way until I realized
they were coming from a different direction, then determined they were coming
from yet another direction, and then another.
The booming was bouncing off the sides of buildings such that it was
impossible to figure out where they were.
When I finally figured out the proper direction by the smoke drifting
over the moon, I headed toward it. By
the time I got high enough to see, though, they were over.
As
I chased these ghost sounds I ran across several people; none of whom were
interested in the historic event taking place in their city. The same was true on Saturday. I’ll speak more about San Francisco in
general in another post, but I was disappointed to learn that the city seems to
be losing its spirit.
On
Sunday we went down to City Hall to see the Pride Parade, and there at last saw
crowds of people celebrating. They had
all congregated in one place, and they were so packed together we could not get
through to anywhere close to the front.
Here they were not merely commemorating who they were as people, they
were celebrating a triumph, and the march was a victory parade. Contrary to what some people would have you
believe, their cheers were of love and acceptance; their joy unbridled. They were free.
I
will, however, make one criticism. Along
with the celebrations of gay pride and the Supreme Court’s decision came a faction
of people who often connect themselves to gay rights activism; I call them
fetishists. It’s the people who wear ass-less
chaps, merkins, tasteless lingerie, sadomasochistic attire, bondage equipment,
slave collars, and sometimes nothing but a cock ring. I will not judge these as perversions;
everyone has a right to their own desires in sexuality. But I will argue that it is a different
issue, and bringing them out to something as important as marriage equality
distorts the issue. It provides
ammunition to the detractors, and scares away those who would otherwise be
allies. Most of all, it’s not truly the
same issue. Fetishism is a right for
straight couples as well as gay couples, and there is certainly a place for
that entire conversation. (And by the
way, I will be on the side of the fetishists as I believe in that right as well.) But the basic right to love and marry who you
want is what is being commemorated at Pride, and this year in particular is
being celebrated for its victory. It is
a celebration for everyone as it improves our democracy. It should be done with dignity, and should be
visible to all, including children, without being clouded by other issues.
All
in all, however, I am grateful and, well, proud, that I was there to see this
historic Pride march. As for the rest of
San Francisco, well, that’s another story of which I will write later.