visible vocal proud and strong

Believe it or not, that was the last line of my high school graduation quote...it seems like a long time ago that I celebrated my first Pride Day, and for a long time it was the most important holiday I had. This year was a little weird. I feel like Pride snuck up on me, and I wasn't ready for it, wasn't looking forward to it. We didn't do the annual getting-folks-together, and I wasn't sure I was even going to march. But then we had brunch with Rebecca, and when I came up to the beginning of the march to try and meet up with people I ran into Jenny, who I haven't seen in months, and ended up marching with her, using the route as a way to catch up.
Even though I started this weekend feeling kinda cynical about the whole thing, it still makes my throat hurt to see all the shiny people gathered in one spot, happy--even if they are stepping on my feet, even if it is all sponsored by beer companies. There have been so many times this year when reading the news made me want to scream. The whole equal-marriage debate sure has taken up a lot of air space, much of it filled with people who want queers to be ashamed, be quiet, go away, or as mr. pixie pointed out, want us never to have existed in the first place. It isn't so easy to feel good about yourself living in a world that still hates you a lot, and I'm glad we can have our party.

I've gotta go. There's a show with ladies doing the can-can in combat boots, and there are seven-foot-tall drag queens and girls with fairy wings and big bears in their leather to dazzle me. There are old friends to kiss and street music to yell over. There's a whole queer wonderful glittery world, and it's practically on my street.