I feel like I’m living in a time warp. How can it possibly be Sunday already? Have I really gone a week and a half without a blog post? Why is it hot like July when I’m sure it’s only March? And what . . . is . . . ON . . . THIS . . . SPATULA??
It’s been a busy, busy week and a half, people - a busy, busy June, actually - and I cannot begin to tell you how pleased I am that it is indeed July. You know when you’re away at university and you’ve bought your plane ticket home for April 22 and you’ve got 4 exams, 3 papers, 2 shows and a “feelings journal” due over the last two weeks and you don’t know how you’ll get it all done but you know that it’ll happen SOMEHOW because goddammit, you’re getting on that plane on April 22nd?? Well, July 1st was my April 22nd. I don’t know when I’ve ever had a dreamier Canada Day. And yes, that’s because I slept through most of it.
In the midst of all this personal excitement came the public excitement of Toronto Pride. The gays were out last weekend, people, and it was a lovely sight. Blender drinks were consumed, shirts were doffed by male, female, and inbetween alike and I got that great cat-throat that comes with shouting over loud dyke music while people smoke heavily around me. The guys across the hall do Ecstasy . . . I do Benadryl.
The gorgeous and talented Katr had this to say about our experience at last Saturday’s Dyke March and as for Sunday . . . we stayed indoors and watched the parade from our dining room. We had the one pair of binoculars and Katr provided the colour commentary for our lovely indoor guests, Bege and Krsh, while her intrepid bro witnessed the event from the ground - all the better to “oops, i’m sorry, were those your nuts?” the boys with. I would venture to say that good times were had by all.
Pride wouldn’t be Pride for me, of course, without a little bit of gay identity angst. This year, it came at the hands of the sticker people. To raise money for all the great things that go on at Pride, the Pride Toronto folks set up little donation bins where you can pay a twoonie and get a gay pride sticker. The last time I went to Pride, the stickers had the Pride logo on them and they read “I paid my twoonie, now leave me alone!”
THIS year, things had gotten far more complicated. There were SEVERAL different stickers to choose from, which led to the aforementioned identity crisis. “Family Pride", “Str8 Pride” and “Boi Pride” were out of the question, but what the hell’s the difference between “Girl Pride” and “Dyke Pride"? Did the bear-admirer in our crew dare to wear “Bear Pride” or should he stick with “Single Pride"? Or would that come off as too needy? WHAT WERE WE SAYING WITH THESE STICKERS?
The friendly girl doling out the stickers refused to get involved. She seemed like the kind of girl who prefers not to label her own sexuality, let alone ours. I suppose that if we’d gone with “Gay Pride” (I didn’t see a “Lesbo Pride", oddly), we could have avoided controversy altogether, but that seemed lame. After an embarassing, yet necessary, amount of hemming and hawing, an assortment of “Girl Pride” and “Dyke Pride” stickers were chosen, while the non-girl/dyke with us eventually decided to eschew his “Single Pride” sticker for his far more interesting t-shirt, which read “Personne ne sait que je suis gai.” ‘Cause everyone loves a bilingual queer! “Oops, je m’excuse, est-ce que ca c’est vos nuts?” Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaah!
Anyway - the stickers were worn and then discarded, but the trauma of having to label myself with someone else’s words remains. Never one to complain without offering a solution, however, I’ve figured out what I’ll do next year. Always one to support Pride, I will happily pay my twoonie, but I will design my own damn stickers. They will read “Creampuff Pride” and I’ll be taking orders in June.
Comments:
Yea! After a great weekend, we’ve been back in the Land O’Oppression for almost a week now (ugh!), anxiously awaiting the next blog post to process the experience for us. Just so glad to see that it didn’t say “Pride was great, except for these obnoxious guests….” On the other hand, you knew we’d read this, so I guess we never will know the truth, now will we?
Thanks again for a great weekend!
Comment by Beth — Sunday, July 3, 2005 @ 7:54 pm
It was our pleasure!! And allow me to assure you both that even my SECRET blog didn’t start with “Well, these jerks came up for Pride . . .” We look forward to future updates from the Land of Oppression and we cherish the Wild Cherry Diet Pepsi that land produces. Thank you, guys. Thank you.
Comment by Rose — Sunday, July 3, 2005 @ 11:18 pm
well, after virtually stalking you all weekend…i swear i wasn’t!!! I have to say i completely agree with the sticker issues…i chose not to put my money there simply because i couldn’t decide which one to choose! I did however, put my money to good things…like a hat i made my mother wear a few days later…it said only PRIDE 25 in pink on pink, and i had to convince her that it simply meant i’d been there, not that it meant anything to anyone we walked past as i showed her around the islands…oy! my beef was the $3 water you had to buy if you got thirsty at any of the stages, because you were forced to dump out or garbage your own water bottles….but overall, as a first timer it was an awesome time and thanks for showing me some of the ropes and i’m sure we’ll see you around come Hysteria season!
Comment by Suzie — Monday, July 4, 2005 @ 5:25 am
Alls I can say is that the French shirt got me more looks and action than the “Single” Pride sticker did.
Comment by Drew — Tuesday, July 5, 2005 @ 5:26 am
I totally want some of those stickers.
Comment by Chezza — Friday, July 8, 2005 @ 2:46 am