Why we need gay pride
“I don’t have a problem with gay people. I just don’t see why they have to make such a fuss about it.”
That comment came from my flatmate in London some 18 years ago.
He was angry that the annual gay and lesbian pride march was going to close roads and inconvenience his plans to drive across the city.
I was excited because I was about to join one of the biggest gay celebrations in the world. The thought of being amid thousands of rainbow-flag-waving, whistle-blowing, chanting queers was mind-blowing for a young Kiwi lesbian.
For one day out of 365, we would be a majority. We would be strong, bold, loud and, yes, proud.
Would I let my whingeing flatmate rain on my rainbow parade? No bloody way.
The first London pride march was in 1971 with just 200 participants and a lot of police; this year, 500,000 people took part.
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The first Adelaide pride march took place in 1973, two years before the state decriminalised male homosexuality and as the gay rights movement was hitting its straps. Photos show a group of colourful, big-haired flag-wavers walking down King William Street behind large pink letters spelling out “gay pride”.
Back then, I was just a nipper. The only “gay” I knew was the one in The Flintstones’ theme song and the only “queer” I’d come across was in Enid Blyton books.
Much has changed since then in my life and in terms of gay rights. And as Adelaide’s Gay Pride March marks its 40th year, some might ask: Do we still need to march? Is “gay pride” still relevant?
Damn straight it is.
Pride is the opposite of shame, and in 2013, there are plenty of people who still believe we should be hiding in a closet and feeling ashamed of our sexuality.
Last week, boxer Anthony Mundine caused a storm with a Twitter comment that criticised an episode of the excellent ABC drama Redfern Now for “promoting” homosexuality:
“Watching redfern now & they promoting homosexuality! (Like it’s ok in our culture) that ain’t in our culture & our ancestors would have there head for it! Like my dad told me GOD made ADAM & EVE not Adam & Steve.”
Later, in a comment which caused me to recall my conversation with that London flatmate, he defended his tweet with the follow-up: “I got nothing against it cause I got friends family that are but promoting it to the youth & masses isn’t right.”
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Just a day or two earlier, Newcastle Knights NRL player Ryan Stig published a letter on social media that suggested same-sex marriage laws were the work of Satan and that homosexuality was a “spiritual disease”:
“One thing we are hearing more is that homosexuality can be genetically traced. Well, if that is the case, there’s as much proof of alcoholism, yet there are no parades for alcoholic pride.”
Then there are the anti-marriage-equality campaigners in Australia, who argue that homosexuality is unnatural and poses some sort of threat to the rest of society.
Now imagine you are a young gay man or lesbian already struggling with your sexuality. Perhaps you are getting bullied at school (“that’s so gay!”) and being told by your family and immediate community that homosexuality is wrong. Perhaps you live in a remote or regional area, where there are few gay role models or places to go for support.* Perhaps you’re Indigenous, and Anthony Mundine is your role model.
How would you feel?
This week Fairfax sports writer Andrew Webster wrote an excellent article about how some inspiring words by former High Court Justice Michael Kirby had saved his life. Sadly, in a country where gay, lesbian and transgender youth are at high risk of self-harm and suicide, it’s all too easy to imagine how ignorant and hurtful words could have the opposite effect.
Gay pride marches and associated events such as Adelaide’s Feast Festival help demonstrate that there is life after the slings and arrows of adolescence. There is a place and a community that will accept you, pink shorts and all. And it’s fun. You can be gay – in all senses of the word – and proud.
For me, marching is also a chance to express gratitude to those who helped achieve so much on the road to equality; the people who were brave enough to take part in those first public marches and who risked ostracism and even arrest by joining the early gay liberation movement. Let’s not forget there was a time when gays, lesbians and transpeople didn’t have the freedom to march in the streets; when homosexuality was illegal; when gay bars or other meeting places had to be cloaked in secrecy; when lesbians faced police harassment simply for wearing trousers.
Gay pride can also galvanise the community for the battles still being fought, of which marriage equality is just one. As the recent social media and anti-same-sex-marriage comments have shown, homophobia is alive and croaking in Australia.
So we will make a fuss. We will refuse to be cowed by bigotry. We will march. We will be proud.
And if you’re worried that the gay pride walk through the city this Saturday evening will disrupt your life for an hour or two, try to think of the bigger picture.
To celebrate the 40th anniversary of the first Adelaide Gay Pride Week, an exhibition featuring historic photos, film footage, and newspaper and magazine articles is currently on display in the Institute Room at the State Library of South Australia.
* Feast Festival is this year hosting a Queer Youth Regional Exchange program and a Regional Outreach Exchange Pilot Project, details of which can be found online. Website QLife offers a phone (1800 184 527) and online chat service for gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people with concerns regarding coming out, isolation, mental health and other issues. Counselling is also offered through BeyondBlue, 1300 224 636, and Lifeline, 13 11 14.
