Fun and Loving in Dallas

Come as you are, with who you love (S)

Ladies, gentlemen, variations thereof, and none of the above, September 16 2012 is a day that will live forever in my memory, for it was the date of my very first Pride Parade! The 29th Alan Ross Texas Freedom Parade may have been rained upon, but the uncooperative weather dampened our clothes, not our spirits. And this time the rainbow definitely did NOT wait until the rain stopped to make an appearance! I'd like to walk you through my time at the Parade, as someone who is out to her friends, most of her classmates, and one of her family members. Enclosed is advice on how you, too, can get away with it.

I live in a suburb about thirty minutes away from Dallas. I am a seventeen year old girl born of immigrant parents (who live up to the overprotective stereotype). I have access to an old car that is a bit iffy, a wonderful straight friend who wanted to also experience Pride, and a brain honed in the art of lying. The preparation started a week in advance, when I collected all my funds in cash, printed out maps to the local public transit station and the route to Lee Park from there, and told my parents that from 11 AM to 5PM, I would be at a friend's house across town watching movies. I went to Mass earlier in the day so as to get it out of the way, then dashed back home to change, wearing my Pride gear under my street clothes and wearing my walking shoes. From there I drove to pick up my friend Siri, who had painted her face for the occasion.

Siri and the author high on the spirit of Pride and possibly amphetamines 

Yes, I made the hat.

We drove to our nearest Dallas Area Rapid Transit (DART) station, which wasn't all that near, because in Texas, public transit is socialism. Once we boarded our train, we met a lovely woman marching in support of her gay son. We had a very informative conversation about local issues of interest, and was pleased to learn that Texas does in fact have an alive and well progressive grassroots movement (I will continue to maintain that this is not a state of savages until I start to believe it). Once de-training at Uptown Station, my intrepid friend and I boldly navigated the wet and rainy streets of uptown Dallas, sure we were lost until we found ourselves in the midst of reveling queers. At that point, it was like a school of salmon, except with gay people and the all-nurturing ocean was the Pride Festival in Lee Park. I was at this point of the mind to strip out of my street clothes down to a bikini top and short black shorts. This didn't attract very much attention because a) we were in the midst of a crowd of gay men and b) it's Pride and anything goes! 

Once in Lee Park, Siri and I visited various booths set up, including but not limited to:

• Two men selling "Pride Pants", tie-dyed rainbow jeans
• Street performers
• The Human Rights Campaign, where I won a temporary tattoo and Siri won a bumper sticker
• This wonderful ring vendor, because of which I am now the proud owner of a brushed stainless-steel band ring with discreet rainbow jewels.
• A fantastic metalworking shop with gorgeous chain-link rainbow gear
• A local baked goods vendor with chocolate chip cookies the size of my splayed hand
• A local dyke-wear vendor with all the snarky t-shirts my gay little heart could desire (what screams "lesbian" more than snarky tees? Only actual sex with a woman at that moment, that's what)
• Representatives from the LGBT Republican lobby, GOProud, who has endorsed the Romney/Ryan ticket. That's like trying to sell pork at a bar mitzvah. I voiced my admiration, if not my agreement. 
• Representatives from the Stonewall Democrats, who got a much better reception
• Representatives from the local Planned Parenthood, which made about as much sense as the aforementioned pork at a bar mitzvah, until we learned that they were promoting safe sex (PSA: Condoms. Dental dams. Use them!)
• People from the Hilton, who I'll talk about in a moment.
• People representing research for an AIDS vaccine, who gave us free gum, towels, and chapstick. Their catchphrase? "I Have a Heart-On"
• People from various business supporting their LGBT neighbors, including CVS Pharmacy and Toni and Guy's Dallas Academy, a beautician school. They were doing free hair-braiding, which I indulged in. The lady did a fantastic job, and my hair was out of my face and fabulous.

The magnificent work they did!

My friend Siri proved once again that she is my favorite little breeder in the world. She was fantastically open-minded, willing to learn, and great fun. Whether asking the lady wo-manning the Planned Parenthood station "What's a dental dam?" or telling the people at the I Have a Heart-On station "I don't get it", she was a great sport, willing to absorb all the seedy details of our deviant sexual practices with an open mind and an attitude of acceptance.

She hadn't told me this before (I still haven't forgiven her!) but she'd actually brought some face paints to Dallas with us. So while we were chatting with the Hilton employees who commented on her face paint, she offered to paint their faces! One fine gentleman asked for a minus sign "open to her artistic interpretation" because it was his personal symbol. As she painted it across his face in silver under his eyes, he elaborated on his belief in a minimalized, simplified lifestyle. I tell you, I was ready to take up residence in a small cabin near Walden Pond and shun modern Babylonian excess by the time he was through. And by the time he was through, he resembled Adam Ant in one of my favorite music videos, "Stand and Deliver".

I know it's hard to believe, but he looked even more fantastic than this.

His colleague was not of the same mindset, and I suggested a curly-cue design around the eyes. My artistic input was appreciated, and Siri painted a silver wreath of curls around his left eye, along with some red hearts and the words "LOVE > HATE" across his face. It was probably for the best that she told them when she was half-way through, too late to stop, that she informed them that the first time she had painted faces was morning before for an Alzheimer's walk.

Finally, as the parade passed us again, we crowded out to see reveling Libertarians, cheering women's football players (you ladies can pile on me any damn time), celebrating thespians, marching queers of all rainbow stripes. It's wonderful to be gay. It's like a contact high, feeling the loves and lives and yes, the pain, that has made Pride something much more to take Pride in. I'd gotten so used to feeling a bit bitter and angry than I'd forgotten that a part of my heart was blistered and cauterized over, and it was a shock to feel it happy again. I took a little bit of that in my heart as Siri and I rode the DART home. I had been so isolated before. This was where I belonged. This was the heart of my culture. These are my people.

Then I got to my car and realized I'd been bitch-slapped with a $35 fine for inadvertently parking in the "fancy" lot. So if I have one lesson for you, it is to open your heart to the healing power of love, and to always check the signage of wherever you park.