The greatest feeling in the world is to walk in front o f the
entire world with your people, to stop traffic, to say fo r just
one day a year, ‘ 7 am not invisible and / will be he'ir'l
une 20, 1987. North Park blocks.
11:00 a.m. Thousands of brilliant
blue, red, yellow, lavender (I should
hope so) balloons given for the asking by
folks carrying swooning bouquets of them.
A festive happy atmosphere filled with
both familiar faces and the faces of stran
gers. Smiles exchanged far more than one
ever sees in the boy bars. Lots and lots of
women — thank them for their spirit and
sense of activism which makes the com
munity of gay people strong.
Step off. The parade begins. A red
pickup truck bearing a man in a leather.
Two aggressively dressed drags, one in
leopard print skin tight body suit, the other
in cartoon hair marching before the leath-
erman’s chariot. Nice touch. Even more
drags would be better — nothing to be
ashamed of girls, get out your wigs, get
cranked and get out there — without you
we are lost. We need your anger, your
humor, your apt sense of the outrageous
and your strength, especially on this one
day a year when we stop traffic, come out
in the daylight hours and parade through
the main streets as if we might actually
belong here. Imagine the nerve of us!
Our lovely empress. Lady Elaine Pea
cock. was a glittering blue gem in a gown
that offered tantalizing glimpses of a rather
shapely derrière. Christopher wore leather
and pearls. The cast of Jerkers trucked
about in their sheets. The gay A. A. group
made lots of noise (which was a continual,
appropriate, and quite appreciated remin
der — to those of us who are beginners at
this sort of thing — that the objective of the
parade is to be seen and heard). Joe and
Bill walked hand in hand down Main
Street, U S. A., just like they were normal
folks. Ben Merrill carried a N O W. sign
like the spoils of war. Thank the blessed
people on the sidelines that cheered us on
and the grim faced policeman who was
very businesslike in his job and another
who uas smiling like it was some good
show, which it was. And best of all, it did
not rain on our parade
by Jay Brown
photo by Linda Khewer
J
Just Out. 10 July, 19
It did rain, however, for our rally. But
that did not stop some of the tenacious
dancers who wanted to celebrate and not
let a little old harmless rain stop them
(mostly women, too, after all, we gay boys
do melt in the rain and it might muss our
coiffure). And whoever had the sensible
foresight to play “ It’s Raining Men”
should be kissed a hundred times. A
perfect song for the day, the rain, dancing
on the bricks near the river in the open in
front of the world.
Then the speeches: the unfortunate and
rather rude reception that Portland gave to
the gentlemen from Seattle. Hardly any
one listened to his speech about the March
on Washington, (D C.) Many of the wo
men between the speaker and me were
carrying on happy conversations while he
spoke of why gay people might want to
march on Washington, D.C. —the basic
essence being that it might behoove us as
an oppressed minority to protest injustice
and inhumanity. Politics aside, how
ever, it is unfortunate that Portland
cannot show a little more manners in re
ceiving out-of-town guest speakers. There
were, however, a few responses in the
crowd to his recitation of the reasons why
there would be a protest demonstration in
Washington, D C. A few people responded
to his call to end apartheid, but that was 1
really the only topic that seemed to stir i
anyone’s blood. It was almost as though
the issues geared toward gay rights did not
merit much interest or response. Seems
ironic, somehow.
The gay hiking group had a raiher en- j
thusiastic response from the women in the
community. Apparently the male members
of the community were hesitant because
the excursions might require too much
physical effort, or they might have to rise
from bed too early, or buy new boots and
wardrobe. But the women are raring to go
and apparently well versed in the art of
hiking. Luckily there is a hiking group for
lesbians that didn’t have a booth. So the
men took the women’s names who were
interested and plan to give those names to
the lesbian group. There is, at present, talk
of the two groups hikii,v together. That is
comforting to know, especially in light of
the usual gender-separatism that seems to
continually divide gay people.
There were many of us there, but there
must be more. If everyone who marched in
the parade this year (the Oregonian
reported 800-1000 people) called two
more friends next year and arranged to go
together, we'd make an even bigger im
pact. Incidentally, we received a very nice
write up in the Oregonian, even if it was
tucked in the back of the Metro section. I
think if we had more color and more noise
(something very splashy, please) we might
someday rate a picture.
For those who have never marched in
the parade you are missing the greatest
feeling in the world: to walk in front of the
entire world with your people, to stop traf
fic, to say for just one day a year, “ l a m
not invisible and I will be heard — I will be
the man or woman I want to be and nobody
can tell me otherwise. And I will be proud
of myself for being strong enough and
brave enough to stand before you as I
really am, and not just how you want me to
be “ It offers an opportunity to slam the
closet door behind you and to know that
you never have to go back again and stay in
the dark, alone.
•