I’m sorry to cut and paste a block of someone else’s writing, but in the Seattle Weekly this week, there’s an excellent piece by Roger Downey discussing his separation from the events and celebrations of Seattle’s Gay Pride weekend, which is about to take place in Seattle. Having just seen Brokeback Mountain – yes, rather late – he sees the film from a different perspective from many people who criticised it and who loved it. He thought it was largely about poverty and class, and how being poor in rural America massively reduces your chances at sexual liberation. Long before the time of the events pictured in the film men and women of sexual minority groups were finding companionship with one another in major cities like San Francisco and Miami. By urbanising and grouping together they were strong. But it was and still is those gays and lesbians who are caught in the rural states, in areas detached from support mechanisms, that need help and still need our help. Downey says Pride is now more about celebrating how great we are and what we’ve got rather than what we have achieved. It was those that came before us that made today’s ‘tolerance’ if not acceptance possible. Now we have to do something to be proud of, help those minority groups and racial minorities who aren’t educated in the language of sexual politics to liberate those members of their communities who are still hiding.
I’ve been feeling more and more remote from the events of Gay Pride for years, but seeing Brokeback Mountain, even if I saw it differently than most, got me thinking hard again about what it’s for, about just what it is that’s being celebrated. Pride? Proud of what? Proud of our “difference”? Proud of our struggle to overcome fear, intimidation, and opposition? Twenty years ago, even 10, I could go along with that. But when I look at the Pride marchers today, if I see anything more than a sort of multicolored St. Patrick’s Day celebration, I see people celebrating being, on average, the most privileged people on planet Earth, free to do exactly as they please, absolved even of the implied injunction on heterosexuals to reproduce, to foster their offspring, to devote the best years of their lives and much of their income to providing for the next generation. I’m not saying that’s not cause for celebration. I enjoy the same privileges as they. What I don’t understand is why we call it “Pride,” and why the hets are willing to let us disrupt traffic with our boasting.
Seattle Weekly: The End of Pride
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