I almost decided not to write about this, and it was the strangest feeling. I love to write. Writing makes me feel more connected to myself and the world. I don't think I've ever had something special and thought, Wow, I really don't want to write about this before. For some reason, this time, it almost felt wrong. It felt like letting go of something I desperately want to hold onto. I guess the tradeoff of writing like this is that I end up having to share what I'm writing about with the world, or however much of the world wants to listen. I'm not sure if I want to share this. There's a piece of myself that wants it to belong entirely to me. That doesn't feel quite right either, though, so I'm going to follow my usual instinct and write. Hopefully, as writing always seems to, it will bring me answers.
On Saturday I attended my first major pride event, Pride Fest, with Chloe and some of her friends, at least some of which are now also my friends. I was really excited to go. I didn't know before that Pride Fest was a thing, but Chloe said she liked it even more than the parade. She described it as a big music and food festival with a lot of pride merch. It was a pretty accurate description.
Our group of six boarded my usual transit line into the city toward Boystown, the gay capital of Chicago and the heart of Pride. As we got closer, I could see the landscape change. Boystown is regularly studded with rainbow flags, but there were even more that day. The people changed as well. Soon there was almost no one without some outward show of pride. We joined the huge throng of people in line, and I tried and failed not to be intimidated by how large the crowd was. I was wearing my gay agenda t-shirt, and the man at the bag check was way more interested in reading it than investigating my purse.
As I walked through the gate to join my bagless friends, a band on a nearby stage was performing I'm Coming Out by Diana ross. If I remember right, while we were waiting for our final friend to make it through the security check, they transitioned into I Will Survive. I couldn't contain my grin. Still, as we moved on, I started to feel just a bit overwhelmed. The crowd was huge, not something I have experience with navigating through, and our group kept getting split up a little. The two in the lead seemed to have a pretty good idea of where they were headed, but I had no clue where that could be. I was just trying to take it in.
Eventually, after a brief strop for a sizable, if disappointingly non-alcoholic piña colada that was shared between the six of us, we reached the apparent destination. It was a stage with live music and performances that I would later learn was the dance stage. Here, I was taught by one of my companions that dancing through was the way to navigate the crowd. It was basically a big gay mosh pit, but a lot friendlier than I imagine a mosh pit to be. Following Chloe, we managed to get pretty close to the stage to dance and watch the performances. At first I had a little difficulty setting into the crowd, but then I looked at Chloe who was practically glowing in the middle of the crowd and remembered what the dance parties with SEA had been like. I decided if there was any other group I could get anywhere near as comfortable in, it was the sea of people who had amassed for Pride, and let myself go. Sometime after that, We Are the Champions by Queen came on. I think it might have just been the backing track, as an army of voices rose with the words. I'm not ashamed to say that moment made me tear up. Something in me felt warm and whole in a way it never had before.
We broke away from the dance crowd when the need for food overtook the need to dance. Due to the difficulties presented by the sheer volume of people and the slightly inflated prices, we decided to leave the Pride Fest area to get food. Before we left, however, I had to find something. I had never seen so much pride merch in once place in my life, and I had watched people walk around draped in flags all afternoon. I found one for myself, a giant bisexual flag about the length of my own arm-span. It came conveniently wrapped into a square, but I had to open it. I had to see it. For the rest of the day, I took to wearing it around my shoulders like a cape. As I write this, it's wrapped around me like a favorite blanket.
We walked just a little bit out of Boystown to get some pizza. Once our stomachs were full, we decided to head back to Boystown and go to The Closet, which might just be my favorite place in Chicago. I still had it marked in my locations on my phone, so I lead the way, flag trailing behind me in the wind and making me feel like a really gay superhero. I felt more and more comfortable with that the closer we got to Boystown. We had to get through a line of people waiting to get into some club, and when I said "Excuse me!", finally loud enough to be heard, a gay man let us pass, patting me on the flag-clad shoulder and saying, "You are excused! Stay fabulous!" Further down the street, I was practically accosted by another gay man, this one drunk and closer to our ages. He wrapped an arm around me and walked with us for a little bit, talking about how much he loved the flag and me and we all needed to love each other our whole lives, not just this month. Under normal circumstances this might have made me a little uncomfortable, but there are few places I've ever felt as safe as I did in Boystown during Pride.
The Closet was much different than I remembered it, though I suppose that was to be expected at around nine on a Saturday night on a Pride weekend. There were a lot more people there, the music was louder, and the bartender from the first night I spent there was replaced with a well-muscled young man. We still went in. Almost as soon as we crossed the threshold, yet another gay man started singing the lyrics of whatever gay song was on at the moment to me. I went with it and sang back to him on the way to the bar. My group hung out, danced, and drank for a while. Eventually I split off to make a trip to the bathroom. I had to ask the same man from our entrance to get past him, and we sang at each other again, which lead to dancing together. To my delight, it was a version of the same dance Shane taught our class at SEA.
After a while my friends and I decided to leave and head for a club that was more made for dancing. When we got there, we were deterred by the long line and cover charge, but a bar across the street advertising discount Jello shots drew us in. The shots were six for five dollars, and conveniently there were six of us. I bought one round and Chloe's partner bought another. After that we left, because the strange choice of a carpeted floor was sticky with what I hope was alcohol. That marked the end of our night, save the journey back.
As soon as I split away from the larger group for the leg of my walk home that was in the opposite direction, I became overwhelmingly aware of the bi flag still marking me as a gay superhero. For a moment, I considered taking it off and putting it in my bag, but the thought of ending this day of proud openness with an act of fear made me furious, so I squared my shoulders and marched home with the pride I'd been feeling all day on full display. I think that might be why I hesitated to write this post. That day was so important to me, such an amazing moment of rightness and belonging, that I didn't want to hand it out to the world and take the chance that someone might find a way to taint it. I know the secret now: no one can. This Pride is a special one not just because of personal significance, but because it is the fiftieth anniversary if the Stonewall Riots. Just like the people who fought at Stonewall, we are out here now because there are yet more victories to be won, even victories as small as walking down the street without putting away my flag. I am here. I am proud. I will not hide.
On Saturday I attended my first major pride event, Pride Fest, with Chloe and some of her friends, at least some of which are now also my friends. I was really excited to go. I didn't know before that Pride Fest was a thing, but Chloe said she liked it even more than the parade. She described it as a big music and food festival with a lot of pride merch. It was a pretty accurate description.
Our group of six boarded my usual transit line into the city toward Boystown, the gay capital of Chicago and the heart of Pride. As we got closer, I could see the landscape change. Boystown is regularly studded with rainbow flags, but there were even more that day. The people changed as well. Soon there was almost no one without some outward show of pride. We joined the huge throng of people in line, and I tried and failed not to be intimidated by how large the crowd was. I was wearing my gay agenda t-shirt, and the man at the bag check was way more interested in reading it than investigating my purse.
As I walked through the gate to join my bagless friends, a band on a nearby stage was performing I'm Coming Out by Diana ross. If I remember right, while we were waiting for our final friend to make it through the security check, they transitioned into I Will Survive. I couldn't contain my grin. Still, as we moved on, I started to feel just a bit overwhelmed. The crowd was huge, not something I have experience with navigating through, and our group kept getting split up a little. The two in the lead seemed to have a pretty good idea of where they were headed, but I had no clue where that could be. I was just trying to take it in.
Eventually, after a brief strop for a sizable, if disappointingly non-alcoholic piña colada that was shared between the six of us, we reached the apparent destination. It was a stage with live music and performances that I would later learn was the dance stage. Here, I was taught by one of my companions that dancing through was the way to navigate the crowd. It was basically a big gay mosh pit, but a lot friendlier than I imagine a mosh pit to be. Following Chloe, we managed to get pretty close to the stage to dance and watch the performances. At first I had a little difficulty setting into the crowd, but then I looked at Chloe who was practically glowing in the middle of the crowd and remembered what the dance parties with SEA had been like. I decided if there was any other group I could get anywhere near as comfortable in, it was the sea of people who had amassed for Pride, and let myself go. Sometime after that, We Are the Champions by Queen came on. I think it might have just been the backing track, as an army of voices rose with the words. I'm not ashamed to say that moment made me tear up. Something in me felt warm and whole in a way it never had before.
We broke away from the dance crowd when the need for food overtook the need to dance. Due to the difficulties presented by the sheer volume of people and the slightly inflated prices, we decided to leave the Pride Fest area to get food. Before we left, however, I had to find something. I had never seen so much pride merch in once place in my life, and I had watched people walk around draped in flags all afternoon. I found one for myself, a giant bisexual flag about the length of my own arm-span. It came conveniently wrapped into a square, but I had to open it. I had to see it. For the rest of the day, I took to wearing it around my shoulders like a cape. As I write this, it's wrapped around me like a favorite blanket.
We walked just a little bit out of Boystown to get some pizza. Once our stomachs were full, we decided to head back to Boystown and go to The Closet, which might just be my favorite place in Chicago. I still had it marked in my locations on my phone, so I lead the way, flag trailing behind me in the wind and making me feel like a really gay superhero. I felt more and more comfortable with that the closer we got to Boystown. We had to get through a line of people waiting to get into some club, and when I said "Excuse me!", finally loud enough to be heard, a gay man let us pass, patting me on the flag-clad shoulder and saying, "You are excused! Stay fabulous!" Further down the street, I was practically accosted by another gay man, this one drunk and closer to our ages. He wrapped an arm around me and walked with us for a little bit, talking about how much he loved the flag and me and we all needed to love each other our whole lives, not just this month. Under normal circumstances this might have made me a little uncomfortable, but there are few places I've ever felt as safe as I did in Boystown during Pride.
The Closet was much different than I remembered it, though I suppose that was to be expected at around nine on a Saturday night on a Pride weekend. There were a lot more people there, the music was louder, and the bartender from the first night I spent there was replaced with a well-muscled young man. We still went in. Almost as soon as we crossed the threshold, yet another gay man started singing the lyrics of whatever gay song was on at the moment to me. I went with it and sang back to him on the way to the bar. My group hung out, danced, and drank for a while. Eventually I split off to make a trip to the bathroom. I had to ask the same man from our entrance to get past him, and we sang at each other again, which lead to dancing together. To my delight, it was a version of the same dance Shane taught our class at SEA.
After a while my friends and I decided to leave and head for a club that was more made for dancing. When we got there, we were deterred by the long line and cover charge, but a bar across the street advertising discount Jello shots drew us in. The shots were six for five dollars, and conveniently there were six of us. I bought one round and Chloe's partner bought another. After that we left, because the strange choice of a carpeted floor was sticky with what I hope was alcohol. That marked the end of our night, save the journey back.
As soon as I split away from the larger group for the leg of my walk home that was in the opposite direction, I became overwhelmingly aware of the bi flag still marking me as a gay superhero. For a moment, I considered taking it off and putting it in my bag, but the thought of ending this day of proud openness with an act of fear made me furious, so I squared my shoulders and marched home with the pride I'd been feeling all day on full display. I think that might be why I hesitated to write this post. That day was so important to me, such an amazing moment of rightness and belonging, that I didn't want to hand it out to the world and take the chance that someone might find a way to taint it. I know the secret now: no one can. This Pride is a special one not just because of personal significance, but because it is the fiftieth anniversary if the Stonewall Riots. Just like the people who fought at Stonewall, we are out here now because there are yet more victories to be won, even victories as small as walking down the street without putting away my flag. I am here. I am proud. I will not hide.
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