Where's The Love?
Ever since I planned my move, everyone has been pumping me about pride week in Toronto. There will be parties and more parties and even more parties to go to and the entire week will be one of the most exciting I?ll ever see.   The theme of the week I have learned is love (okay a little unspectacular, but I know the agony of finding a pride week theme just as well as anyone) and the plans for the week look promising.  The flashy and glamourous decorations arrive on the streets and the night before the big parade, I discover a particular feeling inside of me:  I'm homesick.
Now I imagine that the translation of that feeling seems inconceivable to anyone in Toronto as well as Regina.  Why would such a joyous event where one can feel as open about oneself feel bad?  The people of Toronto are saying, "if you want to go buck naked with a fig leaf, you can do it that week" and the people of Regina are saying, "you're missing the march of 500 people in comparison to 800,000 people?"  As much as I respect this celebration of pride, it doesn't seem real to me.
At the flag raising ceremony, I feel the sting of corporate domination as I am embraced by many of my fellow pridester's long-lost cousin, Captain Morgan and a few days later, in the atmosphere of an AIDS remembrance run, I am offered one last chance to look as good as I can by a lady dressed in a shower costume handing me Lever 2000 Body Wash.  I understand that most of the gay community appreciates the freebees of alcohol and soap, but I find it unnerving.  The whole idea of a pirate embracing me when in fact a pirate in his actual time period knowing that I might having longings for him would have me walk the plank seems . . . well . . . stupid.  As for the free samples of body wash, I'm under the impression that the homeless who can't afford the stuff and probably would love to smell pretty scented should be the first to receive.  I'm sure they will more proud after that.
I walk through the crowd of people at the big parade, past the spandex-bottomed boys and breasts floating around aplenty, and think to myself that this doesn't feel like pride; it feels like a circuit party.  One gentlemen clad in more leather than could possibly be found on a cow parades by with pride, but the image leaves me feeling that I'm sure I've seen his face in a magazine as a high priced lawyer and I doubt he wears this colourful attire around his office or his clients.  This moment in time is the closest thing most of these people will come to stripping and drinking in the middle of one of the busiest streets in Toronto and that is the only thought left in my head.
To be gay and proud is not the challenge it was when I was in Regina.  I rarely saw a person in leather or spandex like this on Pride Day or any day for the matter when I was back there and I doubt this year will be any different.  In Regina, they are still fighting against the bigotry and fears of being openly gay.  There are not the centres for youth to come to or the services of social groups for the older people.  There isn't the selection of bars to chose from; you have one and you are proud to have that one bar.  I don't see the religiuos fanatics as visibly as I used to.  I actually got a buzz from a Bible thumping lady in the park a few weeks past, stating that I was "impregnated" by the gayness of a friend and I felt homesick, missing the rants and pamphlets of Bill Whatcott and his Truth Finders.
For one moment in time, I thought that the idea of pride was completely gone from the people of Toronto and that no one had a clue what the whole week meant.  I then realized that I was wrong about the people of Toronto.  Even with all the leather and spandex and hoopla and freedom, they still have a lot to be afraid of.   Are they going to wear whatever they feel like two streets over or maybe four?  Will the guys hold their boyfriend's hand in Mississauga or the women kiss their girlfriends in Scarborough?  Probably not.  For one week of the year, they can go ahead and lose this inhibition, but the minute the week is gone, so is the pride.
So what is Pride?  Pride is the feeling that one has when they are free to be themselves without any pressure, ANY PRESSURE including themselves and others.  Despite the more open atmosphere and the exception of the Church Street area, there is still a fear of persecution.  Despite the success of the week, there are still miles to go and it all starts inside us.  We keep thinking that pride week will make the world a better place, but it only helps when one appreciates how the feeling of pride that runs through us when we share the week with our loved ones.  When we can hold hands with that special person in any part of the city, province, country and world at anytime of the year, only then will we be able to grasp the feeling of pride.
	Pride Week has ended for yet another year, but only if we let it end.   I pledge to hold my boyfriend's hand in the busiest subway car, crowded restaurants in the non-gay areas of the city and kiss him before I head home no matter where we turn off.  I'm sure at moments we'll look to make sure it's safe from time to time, but soon that will stop.  It will be in that moment when I don't turn my head that Pride will show its true rainbow colours.