Note: I’d like to apologize for sucking at life and totally not posting here in well, forever. I don’t really have an excuse except I’ve been hella busy. Campaign season is here, and well it’s been kinda crazy. I’ve been pulling long days and working weekends and really after working 70 hours a week, who wants to take the time to write something prolific and poetic for the world to read. But none the less, I have returned to talk about a subject very dear to me. I hope you will too.
I have been a fag hag (or as I prefer a fruit fly) for all of my adult life and most of my adolescent life. I’m not sure why Gay men are drawn to me, but I have a theory that I release some kind of pheromone that only gay men can smell. Or perhaps it’s my very round bottom and sassy attitude that attracts them. Whatever the reason, I have been involved in gay rights since before I could drive and lobbying lawmakers since before I could vote. And I really don’t see that ever changing.
This past weekend was Capital Pride. I love DC Pride. The whole weekend is a time of camaraderie and fellowship, celebration and… well… pride. It’s the one weekend a year when strangers come together to share in something together. It’s a great weekend and I’m very glad I have been able to participate in it for the last five years or so. Midweek last week I got a call from a friend I haven’t heard from in a long time. My old intern partner from our Human Rights Campaign days called me up and said he and his partner would be driving down from New Jersey for the weekend. I was elated, I hadn’t seen I. in a very long time and I hadn’t seen his partner B.(who lives in Seattle) in pushing four years.
Friday night, I. and B. drove down and our friend S. who lives in DC and still works for HRC, came over and the four of us plus my roommates (gay men in a relationship…with each other) sat up until 4 in the morning watching movies, talking about Pride, our glory days as HRC interns, politics, music, boys (for me not them)… you know… one of those wonderful long nights with good friends and good wine that you just don’t want to end.
I found myself pondering a lot of the same things with them that I did ten years ago and unfortunately, recognizing that not a whole lot has changed. Hate crimes legislation is still no where to be found, nor is there an ENDA (employment non-discrimination act), don’t ask don’t tell is still kicking, and every time a state legislature or court does the right thing, four other states have a knee jerk reaction to pass constitutional amendments to ban everything including buying dinner for someone of the same sex. It’s all so very frustrating.
Saturday night, I went to Freddie’s. If you live in Northern Virginia, head over there and check it out, think Jimmy Buffet meets drag queens and you’ll have a blast. There were a lot of us out together. Friends from college, high school, friends from work and organizations… gay/ straight… lots of people with the same concerns and beliefs, a true hodgepodge of my friends all out to celebrate Pride.
It was karaoke night, Saturdays always are, and a few of my more gifted friends were taking turns belting their hearts out on the stage. My friend P. straight, activist, male (ha, bet you weren’t expecting P. to be a straight guy!) told me while one of our friends were singing that karaoke at a gay bar is a lot like karaoke at a straight bar, but with talent. I couldn’t agree more.
So, P. and I were sitting together while another patron sang “Strawberry Wine,” and two men stood up and started slow dancing together, the one that was not leading had this most amazing smile on his face, he was totally in love and it was beautiful. P. leaned over to me, obviously looking at the same thing I was and said “Do you see that? He is generally happy. I don’t think I’ve ever been that happy.” I nodded my agreement trying to catch the happiness vibe off this couple in front of me. “Clearly sanctifying that relationship would be bad for our society.” P. and sarcasm are like two peas in a pod, and his commentary on how demeaning our society is to GLBT people because of whom they love made me terribly sad… again. As the song closed, the one leading dipped the one following and kissed him chastely and sweetly. It was like a scene from a movie and their happiness cast this shield of contentment around the bar. People were smiling and hugging each other close, it was a happy feeling, one I don’t feel too often.
This couple faces a great deal of adversity. They live together but in the eyes of the government they are strangers. If one were to be in the hospital the other would not be able to visit like family members or make medical decisions for them. They can’t file joint taxes, and they live under the constant fear that they could be fired from their jobs because they love each other.
Yet, on Saturday night after a long day at the Pride parade, they stood in a little beach bar and slowed danced as someone sang the karaoke version of “Strawberry Wine.” And they loved each other.
I don’t know that couple who danced in front of me Saturday night. I’ve never had dinner at their house or sat in the cubicle next to them. I don’t know their kids (I was told by another patron that they have two little girls that they adopted from China) and I’ve never bought them a drink to ask about their day.
Even though I don’t know this couple, I fight for them, as I fight for all of those living as second class citizens. I do it for all the reasons I’ve listed above, but I really do it for that one perfect moment when two people look at each other with love and contentment and can truly be happy.
We should all be so lucky.
Happy Pride!
Posted by notnancysinatra 