Event

TEXT AND PHOTOS BY MICHAEL KURTZ

I had a feeling that it would be exactly as pictured in my head, thanks to movies, pop-culture, and Getty Stock Images. But I also expected that my reaction won't be your garden-variety straight guy’s anticipation (whatever that may be). I hoped to learn a lot and have a bunch of fun. All the same, it was important that I detail my straight misconceptions then, because — come the next day — I would no longer be able to say that I've never attended a Pride Festival.

The Festival

Jumping into my Lyft, plopping my sneakers on the floor, I just managed to scurry out of the house after collecting my sunscreen, water bottle and two Power Bars. Excited, I considered striking up conversation with my young driver by randomly blurting out that I was on my way to cover a pride parade. “Oh! Maybe I’ll see you there!” he quickly replied a ably. It was then that I noticed the rainbow band on his watch and picked up that in ection in his voice. How wonderfully kismet! I had found my audience.

From there ensued a bit of dialogue regarding formality in terminology and whether I had to say ‘LGBTQ’ each time. “I just say ‘gay’--” he expressed with a chuckle. “Then again, I am gay, so… Just say a ‘pride parade!’ People will know what you’re talking about.” “I’m really not sure what to expect,” I confessed, explaining the magazine and my straight perspective. “If anyone hits on you, just tell ‘em you’re not gay, and they’ll be on their way,” he instructed, akin to some gay, big brother helping me navigate the waters of my initiation.

At 12:36 PM the car stopped in front of Bryant Park in Lake Worth. As an outdoor event, I noted what a beautiful beach-breeze day it was, with a perfect amount of cloud-cover rolling in from the ocean nearby. Still clinging to my last-minute rave like expectations, I purchased my ticket and let them search my bag, being struck meanwhile by how ostensibly docile everything appeared. In fairness, the event had only just started.

Officially inside, I straightaway spotted all around me individuals in non-gender normative attire (two thin, scruffy guys in crop-tops and skirts), beads, face paint, vivid colorations-- but then some families, kids with suckers in their sticky, cherry-red mouths, and a few senior citizens. Old people! Where were the disco balls?!

A realization washed over me: it occurred to me what “pride” meant: a large gathering of like-minded people celebrating, embracing a way of life in a safe, shared place.

Moving farther in, plenty of vendors adorned the landscape: country fair-style snacks and deep fried concessions, sugary drinks and cotton candy, clothing, embroidery, homemade soaps, jewelry, information booths for outreach, involvement, and support. As much as any other event, this was a welcomed space for ready commerce and profit-mak- ing opportunities. The arena wasn’t never-ending, but it was certainly comprehensive and assorted.

After completing degrees in literature and education, Michael's first job was teaching Adv. Pl. English Literature to high schoolers. Following that was a period spent teaching English in China and Vietnam. He returned in 2022 and has assisted countless graduate students with GRE, GMAT, LSAT and MCAT preparation. He always makes time, of course, to work on his novel.

Making my way to the center of the plastic-fenced festivity, small crowds, and pockets of people (maybe two or three hundred) thronged outward from a concrete stage blaring Shania Twain, featuring some glamorous drag queens in sparkly boots and rhinestone-vests, movin’ and groovin’ and hyping up the crowd. A break in the music was accompanied by a few announcements: “HIV services, non-binary collaboration, social-support groups.” That was immediately appreciated and made instant sense. This was a fun day, but one with a purpose and mission as well. I caught the rest of the information, between sets, as I munched on an overpriced hot dog and fries.

A full band took the stage and started up a Rod Stewart song as I threw out my lunch. I noticed small placards driven everywhere into the ground, reading “Compass Community Center” with the organization’s respective logo. The driver had mentioned the organization’s role in the city and its likely affiliation with the event, also pointing out the nondescript building to me as we entered downtown Lake Worth. After feeling the vibe and swaying for a few moments to a bluesy Melissa Ethridge song emanating from the speakers and raspy voice of the woman on vocals, I set out to better explore my environs. The hot, South Florida sky was beating down on me in full force.

Kitschy beads glistening under the sun adorned the booth’s bracelets, dreamcatchers, and hacky sacks. A folksy jam pulsing from behind as I browsed, an easy, communal vibe at once overtook me, like some collegiate coed carefree and enjoying the festivities occurring on the campus quad. A perfect, lazy Saturday afternoon by the water.

Walking by, “I like your shirt…” some guy commented playfully, smiling coyly as I thanked him.

He was referring to the new Zelda-tee just arrived from eBay. I almost missed it, my head down in my notebook as I scribbled away like a tourist. The wind picked up a bit and another sweet, pungent whiff of cannabis wafted past me.

A voting-signup booth. As good an idea as any — reaching out to a particular subculture of the community to ensure that its voice is heard.

The number of services and interests covered was significant. An impressive blend of educational and functional amidst the food, fun, music, and pride.

Poverello — HIV-clinic and related services, food assistance, healthy living education. Two giant baskets — one of apples and the other of oranges — rest atop the table of their station.

“That’s a lot of fruit,” I said in jest to the woman. “Sure is,” she replied. “We’re a food services and health care group, so it’s our role to o er counseling and services to people with HIV- related complications, as well as healthy food stuffs and access to nutritional information and living. We advocate ‘food as medicine,’” she explained.

Making my way back to the stage, I caught an exhilarating performance of “What’s Love Got to do With It” — by the one and only Velvet Lenore — and then figured I’d got what I came for: a fun, different day outside; an up-close introduction to something newly explored; insight into a world in which regrettably I know much too little about.

When I came across Embrace by chance on LinkedIn, I never imagined I'd be immersed in such a world of writing opportunities, but I'm glad I did, and am, because there's really nothing worse than being trapped in your little bubble, where zero growth occurs, and horizons fail to broaden so spectacularly. What a fun day! I hope the next one will be even bigger!

Michael Kurtz. After completing degrees in literature and education, Michael's first job was teaching Adv. Pl. English Literature to high schoolers. Following that was a period spent teaching English in China and Vietnam. He returned in 2022 and has assisted countless graduate students with GRE, GMAT, LSAT and MCAT preparation. He always makes time, of course, to work on his novel.