Pride Is PROUD

"Knock knock.

Who's there?

Pride.

Pride who?

Pried the door off the closet and KICKED ASS!"

Okay, that was really, really bad. But Boston Pride, however, was not. It was awesome.

I've been to Provincetown Festival two years straight, and I thought I'd been at the pinnacle of gay celebration. Certainly Provincetown is more compact than Boston, which meant that all the gayness was concentrated and therefore very very very very potent. Think of this: literally thousands of gay men and women, many cross-dressing or not truly dressing at all, and quite a few dressing in leather and nothing else, running around with the fire of homosexual pride burning in their hearts, throwing Mardi Gras beads and slapping every other person on the ass, and all of this activity set to the dulcet tones of "It's Raining Men." You have Provincetown Festival.

See, Boston was like that, only to the power of seventeen. It was huge and crazy and ridiculously awesome. There was a giant burrito and men in LEATHER CHAPS and boatloads of balloons and as many drag queens as a girl could want. Boston Pride is also one of the places that anyone can feel comfortable at. I mean, there are men and women who are, to put it politely, sloppily put together by God or whatever, walking around wearing swimsuits and short shorts. There are teenage kids screaming their heads off and square-dancing. There are fifty year olds shimmying. There are SEVENTY year olds shimmying. Nothing I or anyone else could do could top that.

I got there a little late and alone, and only managed to find my way by calling various friends, asking my dad to read me GoogleMaps directions over phone, and following the thin trickle of gay people heading towards the parade (I followed these two girls who I subconsciously dubbed "The Star Lesbians" because they were obviously gay and had matching star tattoos above their elbows; they also led me two blocks in the wrong direction). In the end, I found it; how I managed to miss a gigantic crowd of rainbow people screaming and singing in the middle of the South End is a mystery, but it is something that I am apparently skilled enough to do. Go ME.

After a little exploring and numerous shouted phone calls, I found a Sierra! She was marching with Sophie Epstein and her church, so I decided to join. Let me tell you all, Sierra Schwartz (also known as one of the funnest and loveliest human beings you will ever meet) is an enthusiastic Pride marcher. She ran to and fro like the world's most adorable Mardi-Gras-necklace-bearing squirrel, handing them to everyone who looked like they had a jewelry deficiency. Her awesome cheeriness was really infectious, and before long I was like her squirrelly partner in crime. Some people responded...better than others, but it was great to see them burst into cheers when we ran by and threw beads at them. Ah, sweet satisfaction.

The parade continued to wind its way through Boston, and it was incredibly fun, mostly because I was marching in it with Sierra (who, again, is made of pure and solid amazingness). I was just so pumped up and jazzed and happy to live where I do...Pride is great. Like I always say, I think homophobes should be forced to attend one Pride parade and try to hate such nice, happy people. After all, what's not to like about us? We have colorful clothes, we like pretty beads, we chant happy slogans...we're so much fun!

Anyway, Sierra continued her crazy running-around-and-getting-people-to-cheer thing all the way up Tremont Street and up to the Statehouse. She did drink some water and rest for up to ten feet at a time, but her enthusiasm could not be curbed. Good side: she made people happy, was happy herself, helped spread gay Pride, and was generally the best person ever. Bad side: she almost passed out from heatstroke and overexertion. Seriously, Sophie and I were this close to forcibly restraining her. She was the color of lox.

The parade came to a halt at Government Center, aka City Hall. There, Sierra and I parted ways. I came upon Danika, also known as my friend whom I love but constantly fall out of touch with. It was wonderful to see her again, and we set out on a quest to find her girlfriend, which was sort of hilarious and culminated in me meeting her girlfriend whom I DEFINITELY approve. Go, Danika!

Went with Danika and Scoot (girlfriend) to Starbucks, where I got lots of water and a yummy cookie. From there, transferred to Roze and Shawn, who were suitably cranky with me for ditching them earlier (SORRY GUYS SORRY SORRY SORRY). After they became their lovely selves again, we walked around for a bit and ran into people we knew, eventually settling for a bit with people from True Colors. Leora, Red Headed Queen of Awesome, came by and I hung with her for a bit, then Lilly showed up and I couldn't miss an opportunity to see (and poke the boob of (don't ask)) a senior friend, could I? Anyway, after a long while I walked to the T with Leora, went to Harvard Square to buy my stepbro a birthday present (a cow toy that poops jelly beans, and an assortment of jelly beans for him to refill). I hung in Harvard Square by my lonesome for a while, got lunch, and went home, where I watched LOTR Extended Edition bits and IMed with people for a while. Then I went on a walk.

I love being around people; I'm a very social person. But more than anything, I need a certain amount of time alone inside my own head. Sometimes I make excuses not to see friends or family, simply because I need time to myself. Today, I went out and walked to Magazine Beach just as it was getting dark, and sat on a picnic table as it grew darker and darker. I listened to some RENT and got more emotional about it than I have in a long time. I watched the very few stars in the sky come out, and I calmed myself down. I've spent so much time with people these last few days...and spending time with myself made it all even better.

Closing rant: any arguments against gay marriage and gay civil rights have become more and more ludicrous to me recently. This is AMERICA. God damn it, we keep telling the entire world how our Constitution--the founding basis of our government--guarantees freedom and rights to EVERYONE. All genders, all races, all levels of financial and social statuses, all sexual orientations, EVERYONE. For god's sake, Martin Luther King Jr. marched the streets of our country not fifty years ago. Arab-Americans and Muslims were, and still continue to be, persecuted simply because of 9/11. Jews have had to struggle against anti-Semitism in every area of life for centuries. Women have to deal with glass ceilings and sexual harassment. I mean, have blacks forgotten "Colored Only" drinking fountains? Have the Irish forgotten "Irish need not apply" signs? Have Jews lost sight of Leo Frank, the word "kike" and boatloads of refugees turned away during World War II? You name an ethnicity or social group, it's been discriminated against in American history. Maybe not the WASPs...but whatever. The point is, I don't understand how people can look at themselves in the mirror every day, knowing that they stand in the way of another person's marriage or parenthood or happiness. This country...so wrapped up in screwing with other people's affairs, we still manage to fuck up our own. Matthew Shepard, Harvey Milk, Carl Joseph Walker-Hoover...when are we going to stop piling up the bodies? I can't even begin to name the countless LGBT persons who are not alive because of prejudice or discrimination...or even by proxy of these things, struck down by their own hands. It's sad. And it's fucking insane.

Ending on a cheerful note, aren't I?