42 Scene
TWISTED GUILDED GHETTO
HYDES’ HOPES
Pride: I miss you
No shame; choose Pride
) Ah, so another year without Pride, so what. Another year when I’m not working every bloody hour for months in parade prep, costume sorting, float building, ego massaging and promotion. Another year when I’m not playing free hotel, breakfast chef, tour guide, fixer & nag. No Pride again, means I get to have another stolen summer, to rest, lay on the beach, water the garden, read books in August. Do I miss it? Hmmmmm.
) When I think of PRIDE I remember a story in the Bible about Jesus and a guy called Zaccheus. It’s interesting because I believe that it tells us a lot about how important Pride is, and not just as political and social protest. The story goes like this:
BY ERIC PAGE
You want to know what I have missed? What I ache for? What I dream of? What I really, really want? It’s YOU, Dear Reader. I missed all of you, in your messed-up hordes, your screwedup, lushed, swollen, intoxicated masses. I’ve missed the random connection with a superbly inspirational queer person who is as sharp, alert and conniving as me. I’ve missed the bump and grind with the druggie dykes who Hokey Cokey out of the deep shade of a dance tent, surrounding me with their effortless laughter. I yearn for the laugh-out-loud costumes, the clever ones, the ones I see over and over throughout the day then step over in the gutter at the bottom of St James’ St. I miss the hot throbbing mobs at the bar, I miss Grannies sporting strap-ons (thanks Grace!), I miss bad cheap wigs, huge wigs, cool wigs, light-up wigs. I miss talking to the Northern non-binary kid who leaves me laughing and thoughtful, I miss the German trans couple who flirt outrageously with me dressed in buckskin and smirks, I miss the heart achingly sweet slightly drunk twink couple who hold hands and grin adoringly at each other as the sun sets behind them. I miss the older lesbians sitting on the park benching sharing smiles with me. Oh, Pride I do miss you, I miss my friends who have died, leaving behind laughter and stinging admonitions to NOT WASTE TIME AND LIVE. I miss them, I miss pausing in the madness of the middle of the park, letting the tears irrigate my soul and some angel in disguise stepping out of the crowd to hug me and check I’m OK. I miss stopping at the top of the park and looking back on all of you, the music throbbing over the excited chatter. I miss my annual hour-long rides on the Chair-OPlanes spinning in wild abandon and letting my soul sing the body electric, ending up bruised from the chains and relentless centrifugal force; my first and always drug! I miss the sweaty bearded kisses in the Bears Tent, the heaving sweaty breasts in the Women’s Tent, the heaving sweaty everything in the Dance Tent. I miss bumping into people I only ever see at Pride. I miss ducking into groups of people to avoid exes who are now whys, I miss the thrill of being seriously checked out by some super hottie and the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion that kicks in about 11pm. I miss the glitter which gets everywhere, the blisters and blurred encounters. I miss all of you, from all over the place who come here to be LOUD and QUEER with me, trampling our city into the ground with your giant heels and sexy devil hooves, grinding hate and bigotry into the ground with your gyrating bodies, all celebrating the wonderful delightful joys of us all being together and most of all, I miss being in a majority for that one day, when WE THE QUEERS own this city, the streets, the parks, the beaches, the skies and scream in one harmonious voice: ‘love is love, let’s be exquisite and never explain.‘
BY MICHAEL HYDES
Jesus is coming through town. A man was there named Zaccheus; he was a chief tax collector and was rich. He was trying to see who Jesus was, but on account of the crowd he could not, because he was short in stature. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree to see him. (Luke 19 NRSV). If you’re familiar with this story then it’s easy to miss the obvious; Zaccheus is short. He is the only person in the Bible ever to be referred to as short. So, perhaps Zaccheus was very short; a little person. And, yes, he was a tax collector, in a despised profession; but I imagine he’d not had much choice. The usual professions weren’t open to a little person. It was written in the Torah (Leviticus 21:20). As a little person you were thought of as unclean. Zaccheus was discriminated against, every single day, for being who he was. Day on day. Year on year. Decade on decade. Discrimination fosters shame, and shame leads to thinking I am not worth as much as them. As if life isn’t difficult enough, the cultural and social subtext that defines you is: you should be ashamed to be like that – to have that disease, that illness, that difference. Be grateful we accept you at all.
“Pride is not about suggesting that we are better than anyone else. It is a statement that we are all as good as anybody else, and certainly not ashamed to be who we are” Of course, if your are trans, or bi, or lesbian, or gay, then this type of discrimination is nothing new. But in a single moment Jesus turns shame to pride. Of everyone there, including the religious leaders, Jesus chooses to spend one-onone time with Zaccheus. He publicly chooses him, above everybody else! Imagine how Zaccheus felt! In an instant he felt pride instead of shame. We’d like to think that the crowd learned a lesson from what Jesus did – that they realised by his action that in discriminating against Zaccheus they had made a big mistake. But in the story they just tried to find other ways to validate their discrimination, and Jesus and Zaccheus moved on. This story reminds me that when shame threatens to eat us, we must choose pride. When discrimination beats at us, we must choose pride. When our religion or culture, peer group or family, work colleagues or neighbours say you should be ashamed, we must choose pride, and choose it together. Pride is not about suggesting that we are better than anyone else. It is a statement that we are all as good as anybody else, and certainly not ashamed to be who we are. Pride is important because we are important. Just as Jesus showed Zaccheus that he was important, and perfect just as he was, we have to show each other.
