Hey Edie, what are your favorite memories of Pride?
By Edie Fitz
Pride is an annual event in the LGBT community where we celebrate the diversity of humanity, and everyone’s right to freely express themselves, and to work to have a society they believe in. This past weekend was my 7th Pride, and it also marked the 5th anniversary of my life as an out. Looking back over the years, I see my Pride weekend as a simple symbol of my Pride in myself and my community. Thank you for giving me an opportunity to share some of my history with Pride.
In 2002, I was in the Pride parade, not because I was gay, oh no, but because I wanted to support my best friend who was, perhaps predictably given hindsight, to be my first girlfriend. I wanted to support her, but was trembling in my stomach lest some think that I was actually gay myself. Several drinks into the day, I found it far less awkward to be around so many, many women who liked to sleep with women. This year marks a point where I hadn’t even realized I was taking the first fumbling steps on a journey toward self knowledge. I was cute and helpless in my ignorance of my sexuality, and sweetly naive in thinking that I was on the outside looking in as I cheered on diversity.
Fast forward a year, and in 2003 you will find me spending Pride drowning in the knowledge of my sexuality. A senior in college, I had just broken up with my boyfriend, pulled out of my spring quarter classes, spent a month in bed with my best friend, who I would be moving in with in 2 months, and told my entire family I was gay and I needed tuition for an extra quarter. What an intense, life changing mess of a Pride. My only true memory of the weekend is going gay/drunk/dancing for the first time, and getting in a fight with my new girlfriend about my wandering hands. And to think, for a whole two years afterward I would say I was only gay for her. Ah, the irony. Sometimes you get to look back at life and laugh.
In 2004, my former intensity had been replaced with a touch of depression; instead of letting my hands wander, I worked for the man all that sunny Saturday while all of my friends partied their asses off downtown. This year is a bitter memory for me in that it perfectly encapsulated my attitude toward life in general — I shut myself out; I didn’t do things that were important to me; I hid my light under the proverbial bushel. Because I wasn’t dealing well with who I was, I ignored whatever I could about whatever I could in life. I someday hope to have more sympathy for my 2004 self, but now I think of this time as memories I didn’t make because I was too afraid of them. Life, it has regrets.
This general malaise continued into 2005, but 2006 was at last blessedly different. My first girlfriend and I had called it quits, and my life was again my own ground to make my own mistakes. This Pride was marked by extreme, exuberant cheer and drunkenness. Two of my sisters and I biked up Front Street through Bicentennial Park on our way to an early morning breakfast before we jumped on a Pride float. We were all dressed in “wife beaters” and tiny skirts — we stopped by the North Market and bought a rainbow spread of Gerber Daisies. Very few days in life are simply 10/10 perfect, and even fewer of those days do you get to know that you are living through perfection. After years of ignorance, intensity, and then depression, this Pride I was carefree, I was giggly, I was drinking like a fish, and for the first time in all of my Prides, I felt Proud. That feeling is worth all the waiting for in the world.
In 2007, I was going through a breakup over Pride weekend. My girlfriend had decided to attend Chicago Pride and informed me that I wasn’t on her invite list. This put a cap in the ass of an already fumbling relationship. It’s amazing how former happiness is sometimes like money in the bank — even though I was heartbroken that weekend, I knew how important it was for me to get out and celebrate. This year I spent all weekend on a blanket in Goodale Park in front of the main stage. I cheered on the parade and cried when the churches walked past proclaiming their acceptance; I hung out with my friends, and they all hugged me and let me know I was fun even though I was sort of a fountain off and on; I shimmied at 11 p.m. to a funky band who had cute girls dancing on stage in short hot pink skirts. This year I remembered that I can be proud to be who I am, even when it sorts of sucks to be where I am.
Last weekend, Pride was perfect again — it was a crazy, vibrant patchwork quilt — pieces of all my former Prides past had been interwoven seamlessly into one weekend. I shimmied with my sisters at the main stage of Comfest; I hugged all of my amazing friends who have been in the parade with me for over 7 years, and I made out in the middle of High street with a woman I love who makes me giggle and tells me that I’m interesting even when I ask her to help me fix my dryer on a Friday night.
We cheered on dykes on bikes together, we bought shots for some friends who were attending their first Pride and were full of anxiety that they would be forced to come a little farther out of the closet than they are comfortable with; we ran into random people in the street who have helped me make memories even before I started the struggle with my sexuality. We dreamed together; we grabbed each other’s asses.
In the last year, big things have changed in my family and in my work — my life will never be the same, and I have to look forward. As stressful as it has been, Pride has helped me simplify this year; it has shown me what is important to my happiness. It has shown me that Pride is about me, but it is also about the community I am part of and the relationships I maintain here. Over the years, through ignorance we have sought knowledge. Through time, we have found acceptance. I am deeply proud to be part of the vibrant, exuberant Columbus community. Thank you to everyone who came out and supported diversity, and who support it not only this weekend, but in their everyday life. Thank you for the memories. Thank you for the cheering. Thank you for sharing your city with me.
Originally Published: Issue 657 - July 2, 2008
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