emma b. says

Saturday, June 25, 2005

Pride of Lions

I've just come from the Castro and I've got George Michael on the head phones and that's facile and doesn't do justice to the plethora of pink boas freely floating on softly sloping and muscled and waxed shoulders across my fair city on this drizzling evening. Asses on parade, asses proudly on display.

Tonight is the eve of the thirtieth gay pride parade, birthed here, , in the heart of the Castro, where a few good men and women knew in their hearts that they were no deviants, no perverts, but that they loved and were loved in return and could take it out, and would, would take it out to the streets.

For myself I am grateful to my parents, who told me that lucky is the person who loves, regardless of the packaging. To the men and women I have known... oh whatever, I think I might gag on my saccharine sentiment. I was proud tonight, proud of my city and proud of my friends, proud of my mayor.

So even though I will be leaving the City tomorrow to play tennis with a gay boyfriend, and as much as I poke fun at lesbians I got a shiver and cheered the dykes on bikes tonight. I will stand and fight the good fight for your rights, to marry and to divorce, to bear chidren or to not, to hold hands and to sheath your selves in outrageous fortune, not just here or New York, but all across the land like some queer manifest destiny, and no one will ever mind, or lash you to a cattle brace in the middle of the Montana emptiness to wither and die beneath the absent moon. Sexuality would never again be an excuse, for hurt or power.

But I am wandering into to darker territories when I meant to be happy, just as pinking and as featherlight as a boa, and I meant to tell all of the fearfully ignorant to embrace their sons and daughters, good god, how could you not?

so to all of you brooked by your spires of intolerence, hiding under pews and waving versions of the new testament, to all of you churchgoing peoples whose sexual proclivities would make a libertine blush, in particular all of you conservative cross dressers who shame your long suffering wives into recalcitrant submission, but would condemn my boa wearing, prideful friends to a lifetime of furtive and fraught gropings in bathhouses.

fuck you.
fuck you.

fuck you and your assbackwards suitablepersituation, fuck you and your "christian" values , if I had half a chance at connection I would seize it in both fists and have, and have been burned for the the better for it. For all of you chasing the devil, take a good, hard look at the white house and ask yourselves which is more punishable, and if the scales of justice were to mete out justice... a man to marry another man or a man who has directly caused the deaths of over 1700 men and women. On which side would the scales tilt. Whose hands are bloodied. Ask, I only implore you take a good hard look around, and I will look too. Though I am girded and ready for the mother of all revolutions. Don't scoff, at some point in the culture wars, we are all going to have to choose a side and stand at arms.

I sense that I must shortly to bed, that is if I plan on whoopng my gay boyfriend B's cherry ass into submission on the court tomorrow, my backhand may be inconsistent, but it is fierce.


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