Pride

So, last weekend I spent pretty much the entire weekend volunteering for Pride and have been meaning to post about it for quite some time now. Pride this year was a fair bit of drama. Not awful or anything, I'd say that last year there was more issue with the personalities that were involved and this year there was more issue with the disorganization. Due to a shift in the coordinator of Pride, there were a few (to be expected) flub-ups in terms of getting things all coordinated, and so a few mistakes were made. (one particularly bad oversight involved me attempting to direct traffic away from the parade site, and a number of rather large people, in rather large SUVs telling me that they would run me over if I didn't get out of their way) But overall, the Pride was a success! It is odd now. I still volunteer at Pride, and I do get a sense of accomplishment about the work I do for this event. But now, the actual event means so much less to me. I now live Pride vicariously, through my memory of my former self. I recall the first time that I went to Pride, I was just blown away (not literally, you sickos!). I remember how incredible the feeling was, to feel like I was surrounded by a crowd of people who understood me and supported me. I was so new to gay culture then, and all of the drag queens, leather men and just plain 'ole vanilla queers were such novelty. It wasn't as though I could identify with everyone in the crowd of people that I met, but it didn't matter. I felt unified with the community, and for probably the first time, I felt accepted. It all sounds so terribly corny, but it is true. Pride is still an affirming event for me, but these days I guess my need is just so much less. Several years ago, I anxiously sought out a community that I could call my own. To see the thousands of people gathered at our small Lansing event meant something much deeper. Now, I suppose that I don't really need that anymore. Of course I still seek acceptance from society in general, but the pursuit no longer feels as desperate as it did then. I tend to forget the meaning that Pride once had to me, but I do hope that somewhere, amidst the drunken crowds, there is another person to whom Pride still means the world.