Progress through Pride

A Gay Bermudian’s Journey from Boston Pride to the Supreme Court of Bermuda

By Roderick Ferguson

Sometimes I get so swept up in the excitement of Gay Pride that I end up doing things I wouldn’t normally do. Like event planning. Or filing a lawsuit to challenge the law in Bermuda that repealed the right for same-sex couples to marry. I’m pretty sure one year I even flirted with a cute guy. What can I say? I get carried away!

I swear this is all connected, somehow. Let’s start with the event planning, since that was the most disastrous and rewarding.

I joined the organizing committee of Boston Pride in 2003 because I wanted to help make Pride happen. Actually, I wanted to make friends and feel like I was helping, but I didn’t want any responsibility. I agreed to co-chair their smallest event at the time, Pride Day @ Faneuil Hall, because I have trouble saying no. That should be fine, I thought. I’ll provide moral support while the other person does the work. Then my co-chair bailed, and I was left solely in charge of organizing the event. Uh-oh!

You must understand that I am supremely incapable of event planning. I’d rather do yoga with tarantulas than pick up the phone and call someone I’ve never met before. For the record, yoga is the scarier part of that scenario, presuming the tarantulas are heavily sedated. Even with the guidance and handholding of people on the Committee who’d done the job before me, I was more stressed about this event than the people in charge of the Parade. I think I have rainbow balloon trauma. Pride Day @ Faneuil Hall went off without a hitch, and I white-knuckled my way through planning it the following year. Then the gods showed mercy, and I was able to switch to something in my comfort zone: managing Boston Pride’s website.

Why would I put myself through such an excruciating experience? The answer lies in my excruciating childhood. Cue the music for the dark part of this Lifetime movie. When I was 12, we had a creative writing assignment in which one of my classmates wrote about an “opposite world” where I was the coolest kid in school. He was right. That was the opposite of the world I lived in. I didn’t understand why the kids at school were so cruel to me, but I accepted early on that no matter what I did, I couldn’t change how they viewed me. I would never be one of the cool kids.

I was born and raised in Bermuda before I left the island in 1997 to attend MIT. Growing up as a closeted gay kid in Bermuda, I learned that being gay was the worst thing you could possibly be. I don’t think it was ever said explicitly. Somehow, I just knew. Nobody discussed gay people, but gay slurs were certainly in common usage. I didn’t know of anyone who was openly gay in Bermuda or elsewhere. This was before Ellen De- Generes came out (thank you, Ellen!), mostly before the internet, and long before the It Gets Better campaign. Thankfully, I’m too old to have been cyberbullied, but I was telebullied by my classmates (which might explain why I don’t love being on the phone). Of course, at school it was relentless. One teacher even said to my parents, “Roderick takes so much abuse.” That’s just the way it was.

Even living in a more accepting place like Boston, I didn’t want to be gay. Throughout college, I struggled to accept my sexual orientation. It wasn’t until 2002 that I attended the Boston Pride Festival and a block party for the first time. It was a fun time in all the ways that Pride celebrations are fun, but it was also a spiritual awakening for me. We all grow up in a world where straight is the norm. But, suddenly, for one magical day, gay was the default. Straight was the anomaly.

I grew up in a place where gay people were in hiding, had no sense of community, and felt ashamed of their sexuality. Here, everyone was openly gay in the light of day, celebrating this thing they had in common. Bermuda’s total population is under 65,000. The sheer number of gay and lesbian people at Boston Pride overwhelmed me in a wonderful way. I no longer felt so alone, and I had my first truly positive experience of feeling pride in myself as a gay person.

I joined Boston Pride to give this precious gift to others like me. I still wasn’t proud of being gay, but I was angry that Bermuda’s homophobia taught me to feel such shame over it. I was a terrible event planner, but I wanted to help others. In the process I helped myself. Through my work on Pride’s committee, I found valuable role models of gay people living their lives in a manner that I valued and admired. Even though they were gay or lesbian, I found

Donning the emblematic formal attire of his native Bermuda, the author takes to the streets during Boston Pride 2016 to demonstrate for marriage equality. Credit: Michael Cox. that I loved and respected them, and this gave me permission to love and respect myself as a gay man.

I took that permission and ran with it. I’m proud of who I am today, and I have zero shame about being gay. I owe that to my experience with Pride celebrations, both as a participant and as an organizer. While I embody some gay stereotypes, I completely lack the skill set even to fake others. I care about the Red Sox. I love monarch butterflies and enjoy snorkeling with sharks. I’m not much of a drinker, dancer, gymer, or fashionista, but I do drag (poorly) and sing show tunes (incessantly). In fact, I’ve learned I have a certain comedic flair and stage presence, whether it’s doing standup comedy, storytelling, singing, or performing as my drag character, Rhonda Bout. And I’ve switched from a software consulting career to the dubious world of entertainment.

Bermuda made headlines this February when it passed a law that rescinded the right for same-sex couples to marry, replacing it with domestic partnerships, the legal booby prize for LGBTQ+ folks whose love for one another makes some people squeamish. In response, I have filed a lawsuit to challenge this discriminatory law. The case will be heard in Bermuda’s Supreme Court on May 21 and 22, a few days after the publication of this article. The case may be decided in our favor, or it could drag on for years with appeals to courts beyond Bermuda’s shores.

It won’t be easy. You’ll think it strange when I try to explain how I feel about stepping up to fight this battle. On the one hand, I’m hardly a trailblazer in the fight for marriage equality. I’m not even the first Bermudian to do it. Of course, that’s the problem. We won the right to same-sex marriage through the courts, and it was stripped away by this law less than a year later. On the other hand, it’s scary to take this public stand in a place where homosexual love is still quite controversial. Not “event planning scary,” but pretty close.

I’ll be the first to admit that I’m an unlikely person for this particular role. I haven’t lived in Bermuda for 20 years. I’m a comedian, so obviously I can’t take anything in life seriously. And I’m single, still looking for that special guy crazy enough to marry me. But I’m gay, Bermudian, and wish to marry my future husband in Bermuda. I had the right to do so, and it was taken away. I’d like it back, please.

If the Bermuda Government can legislate away same-sex marriage rights, what’s to stop them from doing the same with our other rights? What’s to stop other places from following Bermuda’s homophobic example? Someone needed to challenge this law. Thanks to my experience with Pride, and gads of therapy, I was ready and willing.

Roderick Ferguson is a totally unknown comedian, singer, and aspiring hermit. After a career in software consulting in Boston, he has found his place on the stage, delighting audiences with his infectious spark of mischievous joy. Roderick performs cabaret, stand-up, and occasional drag in Boston, Provincetown, New York City, and Bermuda. He is now living in NYC and training to become an actor. Rod has a newfound hobby filing lawsuits. Find out more at rodfergusonlive.com.

Donning the emblematic formal attire of his native Bermuda, the author takes to the streets during Boston Pride 2016 to demonstrate for marriage equality. Credit: Michael Cox.