What Have You Done Today To Make You Feel Proud?

The following story was written for a different blog I have and the response has been so strong, I have decided to post it, here, to reach a wider audience. Peace. SM

My feet are killing me. More to the point, my big toe on each foot is in so much pain that it is difficult for me to walk, today. Its no small wonder that I am in this kind of pain, nor is it any wonder that all the muscles and joints on my body, not to mention my head, itself, are all in pain. I am in recovery. I am in recovery from Gay Pride Weekend.

Last week, in the middle of the week, a friend instant messaged me, asking if I was having a good Gay Pride Week. I was a little taken aback, since I did not know it was a week of celebration. I knew there was a Gay Pride DAY and that the celebration for Gay Pride started on Friday and continued through to Monday (for some of the Sunday parties extended into the start of the week.) I did not, though, think that the week beforehand was considered part of the celebration. For me, the weeks before Gay Pride were all about preparation for the parade on Sunday, June 25th. Pat and I had been working out, very hard, with our trainer, Ray. We were dieting and lifting and exercising so that we would be in the best physical shape possible for all the events and parties. And, indeed, we were. By the time Gay Pride rolled around we had not eaten a carbohydrate for two weeks and we had lifted weights to the point of exhaustion but we WOULD look good in our pride outfitsespecially me, for I was to appear in an extreme state of undress on a parade float in the Gay Pride Parade.

This was my second year on the H/X float. My dear friend, Guy Smith, produced the float last year and this year and he asked me to dance on said float, both years. Last years float had a western theme and I danced to some of my favourite music, dressed in jeans, boots, a wife beater that came off almost immediately and a cowboy hat. This years float was a circus theme. Guy hired stilt walkers, acrobats, fire eaters and aerialists. The go go dancers on the float were dressed as animal trainers, circus animals and clowns. The celebrity guests on our float were the great drag performers Peppermint and Kevin Aviance. It was a wonderful float and I am extremely grateful for having had the opportunity to dance on it.

I will not, though, be dancing on the float next year.

Like all things in my life, there are two sides to my Gay Pride experience. Like all things in my life, there are lessons that have been learned and changes that have been made; changes inside of me. I love doing things with Guy. That is the most important thing to me. We have had great experiences working on the last two floats. We have had fun working together on other events. I have helped load in for Guy during events, I have photographed his light grids for him during circuit parties, we have worked on plays together, we have spent simple time together as friends and fellow artists. That is the nature of the adventures that we will continue to have, together, in the future. Knowing and working with Guy is a source of great pride for me, because I believe him to be a talent, indeed a genius, and a good friend worthy of my feelings of pride.

However, it is my thoughts regarding GAY pride that have left me a little confused.

There are parades for people all year round. St. Patricks Day, Puerto Rican Day, Memorial Day, Easter. There are lots of reasons why people have parades and lots of pride felt during these events. Do you know what my photographers eyes see, though, during these occasions? People use St. Patricks Day as an excuse to become inebriated. A few years ago, on Puerto Rican Day, there were news reports of hazing and the public molestation of women. Is that what the Irish and Puerto Ricans are proud of? Is that what their heritage is about? I have some Irish blood in me but not enough for me to consider walking in a St. Patricks Day parade; besides they wont let homosexuals march. I dont have any Puerto Rican blood so I am not a part of that day. Lets face it. The quality that most leads my existence is that I am a homosexual. I am many things but, at the root of my being is the label HOMO. For many years I did not participate in Gay Pride. Like many gay men, I grew up with a sense of shame over who or what I was. We have been taught, since the beginning of our lives, that it is unnatural and a sin to be a homosexual. If we are lucky, as individuals, we are able to step out of the shadow and into the light and live, happily, as the persons we are. I have, for years, been proud of who I am, of the long term relationship in which I am, happily, engaged. I have become, slowly, more participatory in activism and in having a voice for my people. I am proud to be a gay male. I am proud to know other gay people. There are all different types of gays out there; we are all different and we all deserve to march in the Gay Pride Parade and show the world that we are proud of who we are.

Now, there is much derision for some of the sub-groupings within our community; even from other members of our community. People in the world and people in the gay world often disdain drag queens, leather daddies, transsexuals, dykes on bikes. These are the extremists of our community. The straight world may have difficulty looking at a parade that features bare breasted, masculine, overweight lesbians riding Harleys. They may not be able to handle the non-professional and unbeautiful drag queens who do their best to show their inner beauty by putting on bad wigs from Sallys Beauty Supply and old prom dresses bought at the Salvation Army. It can be, nearly, impossible, to watch a group of men wearing leather g-strings and harnesses while walking down the street, showing off their big, fat, hairy bodies. These and other groups from within our culture are shown hatred and contempt by heterosexuals and homosexuals alike; but that doesnt lessen the fact of their right to participate. I applaud and welcome them and shower them with my affection, even though I may not understand. Indeed, I do not need to understand, only to accept. Within my circle of friends, there is great normalcy and great eccentricity. The stereotypes run rampant. I fall, in fact, into several of the gay stereotypes. I am an artistic man who listens to music created by the divas: you know the ones: Bette, Barbra, Liza, Judy, Shirley, Deborah, Kristine, Mariah, Madonna, J. Lo and all the rest. I go to musicals and cheer Donna, Idina, Sherie, Kristin, Marin, Karen, Jennifer, Heather and Audra. I have friends who are opera buffs and friends who are Martha fantatics. I also, though, know gay sci-fi geeks, computer nerds, young entrepreneurs, and even one or two republicans. I know lesbians and bisexuals, cross dressers and drag queens. I know party boys, serial monogamists, men in committed three person relationships and promiscuous crack-hos. I know men who go clubbing and use drugs on a regular basis and I know men who turn their noses up at them, while attending cocktail parties every night. I am personally acquainted with people who fall into all different categories of the gay, lesbian, transgendered, bi-sexual community and I offer them my respect because, as human beings, they deserve it.

However. Ah ha. There is a however, here. Is there not always a however, where I am concerned? Yes, there is.

I have decided that my days of being in the Gay Pride Parade are over. I have decided that my days of attending circuit parties are over. I have decided that I am going to settle back into a calmer, quieter life with my spouse because it is what feels right to me. For me, these days, life is about choices; and I have seen things this last weekend that have brought to me choices that have been a long time coming.

It would be dishonest to tell this story without admitting some inalienable truths about myself. I hesitate to do this because I have friends who read my stories who might judge me on these truths; however, the story would be incomplete without adding my personal history. I say, often, that I do not live the life of a spectator. To that end, I will announce, now, that I have used recreational drugs, and that I have been involved in more than a few sexual situations that would be considered unsavory. I will, also, say that I have never engaged in unsafe sexual practices, that I have a clean bill of health and that I do not use intravenous drugs. To be perfectly frank, I smoked hash with my first boyfriend when I was seventeen (it made me so sick, I never did it again), I smoked marijuana in college (and fell asleep during a party and drooled on a suede sofaand never smoked pot again) and during my adult life I have used, recreationally, ecstasy and ketamine. That is the extent of my drug usage. I have friends who have judged me on this drug usage; that is their baggage. I could not tell this story without having had these experiences. It would be impossible to learn the lesson I have learned. I have also been a falling down drunk, smoked a pack of cigarettes a day and been a terrible over eater of junk food. I no longer drink alcohol, smoke cigarettes or eat food that is bad for me. I am a health fanatic, now, and my highs come from working out, breathing the air around me and walking in the sunshine or the rain.

So what is the lesson showered upon me at Gay Pride 2006? The lesson comes in the form of a question. What Have You Done Today To Make You Feel Proud? It is a line from a Heather Small song most associated with my favourite tv show, Queer As Folk. I loved and love this show and hold up Brian Kinney as my idol. A large part of the five season television show was the club scene. Gay men and lesbians out, drinking, using recreational drugs and having promiscuous sex is a way of life for the gay community and has been for a long time. It is a part of our culture. However, the show Queer As Folk also illustrated the great love that we all feel for one another, that we are there to protect each other, to support each other, to settle down into committed relationships that break the boundaries of what is considered normal and to go on, no matter what changes and challenges take place. We can or not continue to embrace the lifestyle as it has always been; or we can create a delicate balance in which the past and the present live harmoniously. The characters in Queer As Folk are as stereotypical AND as astereotypical as can be found wandering the streets of Manhattan. And in the first and last episodes of the ground breaking show, Heather Small sang the words written above. What have you done today to make you feel proud?

During the Gay Pride Parade of 2005, I met some lovely people who were very friendly and easy going and fun to be with. It was different this year. Oh, there were some nice people on my float; there were also some gay men who exhibited attitudes of repellant outlook to me. I am a positive energy person and it bothered me to see certain members of my float exhibit such self-centered-ness that they would, actually, shove other dancers on the float aside so that they could have a better vantage point from which the crowds could see them. There was a man on my float who was so narcissistic that to look at him made me uncomfortable. He was (and is) so in love with himself that it would be apparent to even the youngest child. I could not bring myself to give him satisfaction by looking at him. I watched them deride the less confident, less muscular men on the float, observed them ignoring the dancers with less talent, and it was impossible not to notice their direct gaze into every passing window on the parade route so that they could stare, lovingly, into their own reflection.

It makes me wonder about myself. I wonder why I wanted to do the float, these last two years; why I always end up on a box or on a stage at the dance clubs. But then, I know myself. I know why. I was a performer for many years. The performing I loved the most was dancing. I think I am good at it and I like being admired for it. I have lived with low self-esteem for many years and, though I love myself now, I did not for a long time. I have needed the validation of being looked at, of being admired. I no longer need it, but I still like the performing and I still like being looked at. Its nice. To that end, I wonder if I am no better than the people I found myself judging. After serious contemplation, I decided that it is not for me to say whether I am betterbut in my heart I know that there is no negativity attached to my motives. I feel the negativity attached to narcissism; as a person who looks at the world through a lens, I see the negativity of narcissism.

There was a man on my float who exposed his private body parts to the crowds, crowds that featured young children. I am not a shrinking violet. I have been photographed nude, I have appeared in plays in extreme states of undressed and I have engaged in sexual congress in front of other people. I have not, though, used my exhibitionistic tendencies for my own gratification at the expense of children. I object to his behaviour and make the choice to judge him for it. Also, this was the same man who, with cynical contempt, criticized my costume and makeup, asking what I was supposed to be. My reply: I am someone who was too busy helping build the float to go to the body painter and get painted. I realize, in hindsight, that what I should have said was why do you want to make my experience here a negative one?

I am a proud gay male. I wish to promote positive energy for the gay community. I do not feel the need to tell the unsuspecting world that we are a bunch of debauched degenerates. We MAY be debauched degenerates but I believe that we can keep our lascivious behaviour in our private dwellings or, at least, in the private clubs where exhibitionism is the goal. Not in public, not in front of the families, not in front of the children. I dont wish to be a part of something that puts a negative slant on my people.

There is also the matter of my feet, which are killing me after standing and dancing for five hours straight on a moving vehicle. God, it was fun. I had such a grand time dancing with my friends and for my people and for my Pride. I have satisfied my exhibitionistic tendencies as far as they can go, comfortably, in public. Last year, I was shirtless on the float; this year I was in trunks. Any further and I would be no better than the self-involved men I am choosing to disdain. I have taken my Gay Pride Parade experience as far as I think I can; it is time to move on to a new one.

And speaking of new experiences: it is time for me to leave the party. I dont mean that I will leave it, absolutely; but I do mean to change it, for myself and for my body. We deserve a cleaner, a healthier lifestyle. I get such a charge out of going dancing. The music fills me, so; as does the experience of sharing the dance floor with Pat and with my friends. I just realized, at the Gay Pride Alegria party, that I can (and at this point, must) make my nights out dancing the occasional trip to my favourite club, Roxy, and skip the circuit parties and other drug-ridden nights of the party culture. I have had some good and bad experiences with the party crowd and this last weekend was somewhere in the middle, a perfect time to contemplate the scene.

My two Pride parades were vastly different: one sunny, one overcast; one with some clothing, one with almost no clothing, one with mostly friendly float partners and one with more less than friendly fellow dancers. My two Pride Pier dances were vastly different: one was about getting high and dancing, hard, in celebration, the other was about staying clean so that I could focus on my job photographing Jennifer Lopez (a task which yielded great results!). My Alegria experiences have ranged from heartsickening (times when the other men at the party were mean to me and treated me like the ugly stepsister) to uplifting (times when I made new friends and was ogled while dancing on the stage, in front of the entire party). This last Alegria circuit party was fun for me because Pat and I are more in love than ever and the chance to dance with one another is always a good one. The music was good and we looked good and had a good time. However, I have been on a track of good health and I can see things, clearly, that I could not see before. I spent a fair amount of time on Sunday night looking at the people around me. I had the presence of mind to wonder what are they here for? Why are there people who take drugs to the point of altering their minds so much that they can no longer formulate coherent sentences? Why are there people being held up on the dance floor because, without that assistance, they will collapse? Why are there people engaging in sexual congress on the dance floor? Why are there people who are so desperate to be looked at that they must climb up onto the stage, onto a speaker, onto a box, where they do not belong, to dance a dance that is neither attractive nor appealing? And what of the woman we call Booby Lady? Who is she? Why appear in public in pasties and a Pink Pippi Longstalking haircut with some fleece sweater tied around her waist? There is nothing attractive about her: what is her message? I suppose I can understand these things at The Black Party: the purpose of that circuit party is to celebrate fantasy and fetish and to give people a chance to explore their baser natures. At a simple dance party, though, why? I have remarked that I know why I want to be up on the stage, up on the box, up on the speaker; but I could not bring myself to scale them this weekend. I looked at the drugged out party burn outs onstage and on the dance floor and saw a future I do not want for myself. I looked into the eyes of strangers and friends and saw the person I do not wish to be. I stood for half an hour and watched the party and wondered where I fit in? I could not bring myself to respect the people I was watching, for the damage they were doing their bodies and their brains; but if I am there with them, how can I respect myself? I am tired of looking at the members of Princess Puffer's Opium Den. I am tired of the attempt to translate what people are attempting to say to me. I am tired of watching my friends fornicate on the dance floor; the dance floor is sacred. If they want to be exhibitionists and hedonists, then I suggest they go to the sex clubs or through their own parties; why the dance clubs? At least go fornicate in the bathroom stalls and dont force unsuspecting eyes to be jolted from the happiness of a good jig to a great piece of music. I have watched, for a couple of years, as friends have gotten deeper and deeper into drugs and alcohol and as my heart goes out to them, it also goes out to myself, as I wish for a life in which I do not disrespect myself in the same manner. There is a kind of desperation that goes with these events and the people who attend them. It is not a quiet desperation, at all. They all seem to be there, looking for something. Whether that which they seek is to be drugged to the point of numbness, to satisfy some sexual need, validation, appreciation, whatever kind of ation they require, the people at the circuit parties seem, to me, to be attempting to replace something in their lives. Its what I did with alcohol, food and some other behaviours that I, now, consider repugnant. I realize that I dont have need of these things. I have found a quiet grace within myself, an approval from myself and from the loved ones who matter to me; and a love for the ages that gives me strength when I need it. Not just the love I share with Pat but that love that I share with my spiritual guides for life and for myself. I no longer reek of desperation, of neediness, a fragrance I have exuded and have smelled on others, a fragrance that is not attractive.

I have discovered something rather interesting. The numb I got from alcohol, the buzz I got from nicotine, the satisfaction I got from refined sugar, the high I got from recreational drugs; none of it compares to a sunrise, a gulp of fresh air, the communication from a body that is healthy and the thrill of pushing those heavy weights into the air. I have found my preferred thrill in life; it is health and fitness, living well and clean and my trips to the gym. I have been taught by experts to be an expert on eating healthy foods and living a healthy life. I know that pride is one of the seven deadly sins but I must admit that I am proud of my status as a health fanatic. I dont mind being a sinner if it means I can wear my pride over something that important, that noble. I dont mind it because it is an experience, a pride, a lifestyle that I share with Pat and with the men who have taught us to live this way.

That is why, on this day, I am thinking about pride and what it is that makes me feel proud. I feel pride in knowing people like Pat, who is truly good, Bobby, who believes with all his being in the people he admires, Guy, whose work ethic is paramount, Steve, who would leave the city so that his dog has a back yard in which to play, and Ray, who is focusing on his sons college careers years before they will even graduate high school. These are some of the good men I know and the men I wish to surround me; the ones who teach me about the kind of man I want to be.

What have I done today to make me feel proud?

I have opened my eyes and seen my future and made the choice to travel the right road.