Send in the Well-Oiled Clowns
Parades: Bleh A few years ago I was asked why I didn't attend any gay pride parades and events of a particular organization any more, especially since I was one of the few people of color. I simply responded "I don't feel welcomed, comfortable, or visible." To this day it's still my most succinct description of my emotional reaction to this time of year. When I was in college I would attend the Pride Parade in Chicago. I found the experience to be an exercise of masochism. It was white guys from my college, their outlier cliques of hanger-ons, a few lesbians, and me: the fat black guy with glasses cracking nervous jokes and sweating. I would stand there talking myself into 'enjoying' the loneliness, the complete lack of communication. My last Chicago Pride parade I was invited back to the place of my straight friends for a Sangria birthday party. It was a pity invite which I gladly accepted. That was the only event anyone ever invited me to during my four ...