The expansion of rights such as marriage equality is progress. Move forward to the day when gay people have had the temerity to become fully visible, to demand that they be treated with the same dignity as any other person in society. Eighteen and twenty-three years ago, you could destroy them one by one if they stepped out of line. Thirty-six years ago, you could ignore a health crisis and let it weed people out. Forty-three years ago, you could throw the ones who “flaunted” it in an institution. Forty-seven years ago, you didn’t have to massacre homosexuals in their “hideouts” you could harass them there while wearing a uniform. He asked how could the most horrendous shooting in US history happen during the time when we are the most tolerant? One ready possibility is that of backlash.
I didn’t march, though I did wave joyously at my coworkers as they went by.Īfter the Orlando massacre, I saw someone take umbrage at a post that stated that the shooter was born and raised in America and that the toxic stew that he swallowed whole didn’t have just one ingredient, and which followed with examples of the long history of atrocities visited on this community. This year, as with every year, there were numerous reasons to come together. Last year, I marched in the parade for the first time, with the San Diego County Library, during the downpour. The terrorist responsible was never found. Many other adults and children, including a pregnant woman, were treated for respiratory, skin, and eye complications. Four people were hospitalized, including a three-year-old girl. I felt along the wall until I could dimly see again and went down a side street where residents mobilized and provided water and support. I didn’t know what was going to happen during the chaos to the pregnant woman who had stood near us or any of the children in the audience. I had no idea where Arianne was and no way of doing anything to ensure her safety. In seconds, I was reduced to fumbling instinct–unable to see, disoriented, in pain.
An announcer in the stand across from us calmly but urgently spoke into the microphone: “This is teargas, people.” Moments later, it was on us. I saw a distant white mass of smoke drifting down the street. In 1999, someone threw a teargas canister during the parade. I cried when, for a moment, I was overcome by a glimpse of a world better than the one I had been told to settle for. In the early 1990s, I attended my first Pride parade.
This morning, Facebook showed me what I wrote on social media during Pride weekend in 2016: This last weekend, I participated in two San Diego Pride events with the San Diego County Library: outreach at Trans Pride and marching in the parade.