June 30 was Seattle’s 50th Annual Pride March and Pride Fest. I was in such a good, hopeful mood after attending that I intended to share my optimism about our country in a diary, but was too tired that night. Then I woke up to the End of the Rule of Law and it seemed trivial and misplaced to share my joy and optimism about spending a day with normal people who enjoy life and aren’t trying to control the lives of others. I moped and wrote angry comments on DK all day Monday. Today I wrote to Joe Biden. It’s overwhelming trying to figure out how to mobilize against the Death of Democracy. And it’s likely to remain that way. There isn’t much room for optimism at the moment.
But tonight there were a few good things that happened in the perpetual drama that is my daughters, grandkids, and great-grandkids (more on that below). Pride swag is still lying around my house, and I received some more photos from my Pride buddies and from extended family. I can’t let the dismal state of our country stop me from enjoying these small victories. So let the good times roll and buoy us up in the fight to keep democracy.
Seattle Pride Fest began in 1974 with about 200 people. I lived in Salt Lake City at the time, had just graduated from high school, but coincidentally ran into my first Pride protest (with a party of two protestors) at Independence Hall in Philadelphia that summer on my way to Germany for some language immersion. I was a virgin, still considered myself straight, and wasn’t exactly sure what to think, but it stuck in my mind. A decade later I was considering whether I was bisexual and moving to Seattle for graduate school, where it didn’t take me too many years to hook up with the bi community and begin attending Seattle Pride Fest, one of the largest such celebrations in the country, currently variously estimated to attract 150,000 to 300,000 people. Over the past 35-40 years I have usually attended Pride, either as a spectator or as a marcher with various groups, but I had never marched with my fellow employees of the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Center, and since I am retiring in two months, I didn’t want to miss my last chance.
The march is long from south downtown to Seattle Center. The day started cool but became sunny and warm, so the sunscreen vials, fans, and scarves we handed out were appreciated. Most of the swag unfortunately ends up getting distributed to spectators near the beginning of the march. People cheer so enthusiastically that it is easy to imagine that at least some of them really do appreciate the work of the Fred Hutch Cancer Center. One of the announcers urged people to use sunscreen so they didn’t have to come visit us.
At the end of the march at Seattle Center there are bands, arts and crafts booths, clothing, flags, food, community organizations, and excellent people-watching. I never tire of looking at the diversity of states of dress and undress, mostly very colorful and frequently gender bending, or at the ethnic diversity of our community. Years ago BC (before children), I would often run into my fellow bi activists and other queer friends at Pride, but it has been long enough that I’m not sure I would recognize most of my friends even if I happened to run into them in the crowd of 150K+ people.
Not everyone here is queer, there are lots of allies, but I have the impression that most of us are queer to one extent or another, with our rainbow flags/stickers/socks/dress/facepaint/jewelry, etc. It is hard to imagine anyone attending this event voting for Trump or being a secret MAGA, hence the joyful hope I felt being here that I wanted to share in a diary. I’m aware that Seattle is a blue bubble, but it is hard to be in this crowd and remember that troglodytes like Mike Johnson, Martha Ann Alito, and Ted Cruz exist. I looked to see if the Log Cabin Republicans had a booth. Last year (or maybe the year before) they had a lonely booth with two guys. This year I was in the mood to go up and tell them “Give it up. You know Republicans hate you and want you not to exist.” and perhaps they do, since I couldn’t find them anywhere. I did find and donate money to a queer city council candidate to help her qualify for Seattle’s voter voucher program that allows citizens to direct $25 of city money toward four candidates of their choice.
Every age is present at Pride, from seniors like me to babies. There are always kids. Not as many as at, say, the SeaFair Torchlight Parade, but quite a few. They all seem to be into the rainbows, facepaint, bright costumes, and sometimes even genderbending. I’ve never seen one not having a good time, though of course I’m sure that sometimes happens. (My 3-year-old granddaughter might have loved it for a while, but not for the long march and in any case her mother took her to Spokane for the weekend. Besides, she got a colorful hippie dress in Woodstock NY earlier in the week, so she is not missing out.) In our Fred Hutch group the older kids enjoyed giving out swag while the under 3 crowd got to ride in wagons or on bikes. I was pleased to see in the community groups that Lambert House, which provides housing to queer teens who can’t live with their families, is still active. I talked to the Lavender Project, which seeks to provide advocacy and legal services especially to the Black Transgender population. I stopped for information at the GenPride Center booth. Maybe I’ll check out some of their programs and see if I can make some new senior queer friends when I retire in two months.
Some of the signs and T-shirts were fun, and some I won’t print here. I liked the shirt on an older woman that just said: “WEIRDO”. A couple of women had “Girl Kisser” T-shirts. There were some variations on “I heart sluts”, and one shirt had Jesus saying “Ah, men!” I asked one guy where he got his “Bi Girlfriend Energy” shirt and he said his girlfriend, now wife, had it specially made. Maybe I’ll have to get a “Bi Wife Energy” shirt made for my wife.
I resisted buying ridiculously expensive gay-marketed underwear and “gayprons” for the kitchen, but i did buy a delicious Filipino BBQ skewer and lumpia, a CD of Andean music, and a smaller bi flag. There are so many different pride flags these days that it is hard for old codgers like me to keep up with the colors and symbology, but it is still surprisingly hard to find a simple bi flag, so I thought i should grab a smaller one when I saw it. I have a big one, but I am not really into the cape look for myself or into carrying around heavy flagpoles.
Good days don’t only come from knowing there are millions of tolerant, creative, colorful people in our country who probably wont vote to take away our rights, but sometimes from small personal accomplishments, as i mentioned at the beginning. Today my wife has a second contract job to give her some more hours. Daughter #1 got her first paycheck from her new job. Daughter #2 is in the process of moving in with her boyfriend and his daughters. Daughter #3 moved out from her construction zone rental with the crazy landlord and onto a farm near Kona with chickens, room for the dogs, and affordable rent, thereby avoiding homelessness. Daughter #4 dumped her sleazy boyfriend (again, hope it sticks this time) who brought a gun along on a car trip to Spokane with her 3 year old (Granddaughter #1). Keep guns far away from toddlers, please. Grandson #1 made the first payment on the loan we gave him to buy the lot next to his so his boys (great-grandsons #1 and #2) would have more yard to play in. Nothing too exciting, but I feel like today, at least, all is right with the family. Cherish this and don’t let the Extreme Court divert your simple joys. Then keep fighting.