After many years of wanting to attend, but never getting around to it, I finally witnessed the San Diego Gay Pride Festival and Parade.
As I wandered the festival, it reinforced a belief I’ve had for a long time now that, for all their ignorant, arrogant, chickenshit notions about homosexuality, the anti-gay movement was right about one thing: There is a gay agenda, and the agenda is to jam it right into the face of mainstream America.
As I traversed the festival and delighted at its brazen queerness, it gave me such a warmy sense of satisfaction to know that the homophobes are looking at these LGBT events and shuddering. They shudder because Pride embodies everything the LZBT community (Liars, Zealots, Bigots and Tormentors) fears and loathes about LGBT culture:
Leather-clad bondage fetishists walking ball-gagged slaves on choke leashes; thoroughly oiled, topless men wearing tiny man-panties with the outlines of their ample three-packs fully visible; gangs of male and female goth gays with purple hair, black mascara and more ear-piercings than a duet by Yoko Ono and Axel Rose; nearly naked men mauling each other under the glaring light of day; handsome, lion-hearted lumberjack lesbians firmly holding hands as they marched around the loop of the festival; trans-splendored guys and dolls walking the path with their heads high and their dicks tucked; aging Judas Priest leather-brutes in studded leather vests, chaps and pointy bulldog chokers; a dunking booth with nearly naked, young, yoked studs emerging from the water, their muscle lines glistening under the splashing sunlight; a wedding chapel where men could marry men and women could marry women and everyone forever held their peace when asked.
And I nearly wept for joy to see families in attendance—little kids frolicking in the Children’s Garden, dancing, laughing and, yes, being indoctrinated into accepting homosexuality as something normal and natural—while somewhere, some right-wing Christian conservative howled to the heavens, “Not the children, Lord! The children!”
Then there were the vendor and exhibitor booths, like Manhunt—an online male hookup service. There was also Back Door Boxers, which sold gay-friendly underwear with a little flap in the back for easy access. There was a booth by The Dildo Doctor, who sold glass dildos (apparently the rubber ones retain bacteria). There was Girl on Girl Concepts, San Diego Gay Women’s Chorus, several queer-friendly churches and, my favorite, The National Association of Black and White Men Together, because, well, what will send a bigot running for the hills faster than homosexuality and race-mixing?
And I tell you no lies when I say that quite a few men—men who knew I was straight—openly flirted with me, trying to convert me, just like the homophobes always said they would. Naturally, I flirted right back. And it was freaking fun! I was even asked to join a threesome. I told them, “Sorry guys, not enough vagina for my liking.”
“No problem,” they said. “We’ll throw in a girl and make it a foursome.”
“Um, not quite what I meant, fellas, but thanks anyway.”
And while the DJ spun techno music on a stage with two half-naked men in glittery, gold leotards undulating over each other with orgiastic abandon, I saw a small Asian femme on the shoulders of a broad, black bear wildly waving his rainbow flag, and I thought, Yeah, man—Pride. That’s what it’s all about.
And just in case the intolerant didn’t get to see or hear about what goes on inside the festival, there was the Pride Parade, which had gays of every race, creed, color, style and proclivity literally parading their gayness down University Avenue. And the best part about that—the part that must’ve made the LZBT community fall to their knees and pray to their homophobic deities—was that for the first time in U.S. history, military personnel were permitted to wear their uniforms in the parade.
“Et tu, military?” cried the LZBTs.
Yup, even the U.S. Armed Forces opened their big, sinewy arms to embrace the gay, proving the point that— despite their ignorant, hateful, frightened little minds— the bigots were right. This country is on a slippery slope toward the normalization of homosexuality in America.
When the Supreme Court struck down anti-sodomy laws in 2003, the bigots shouted, “Slippery slope! Slippery slope!” When the U.S. Senate added “sexual orientation” to the definition of hate crime, they hollered, “Slippery slope! Slippery slope!” Ditto when the push for gay marriage finally got some traction. And when President Obama repealed Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell—itself considered a slippery slope from the previous No Homos Allowed policy—it was another giant step toward acceptance.
You’re damn straight we’re on a slippery slope! Thing is, some slopes are righteous. Like a slope that slips into a vat of silvery Rumple Mintz, or into a vault of money, or a giant pool of liquid chocolate—yes, yes, that’s what this is: a slippery slope into the chocolate tub of tolerance. And the slope is slippery because it’s coated with the sweet, slick gelatin of progress.
So, keep it up gay community. Don’t stop until every day is a gay-pride parade and you can walk the streets just as you are, in all your regalia. Fuck ’em if they can’t take a choker.