Queer Like Me
Yesterday, I attended my first-ever Pride parade. I'd always wanted to go to the one in Toronto, but I would either a) be working b) be sick or c) feel sort of lame because I didn't want to be the tagalong straight girl.
I got over c) and embraced my inner dyke. She's easily coaxed out. Especially when I wear my Lara Croft-esque green tank top, my watch with the thick leather strap, zero make-up (not even mascara!) , earth mother-y sandals, and a kickass rainbow wallet chain, courtesy of Montreal Benjamin. Whenever I caught glimpses of myself in storefront windows, I had to do a bit of a double-take. Visually, I make a very convincing homo.
The parade, although 1.5 hours late, was quite the spectacle. Lots of beautiful people. Lots of not-so-beautiful-people. Lots of drag queens. Lots of balloons. Lots of Britney (but no Madonna or Cher, as Benjamin pointed out. Blaspheme)!
I found parts of the parade incredibly moving. Especially the lesbian mothers with their babies, and the really impassioned gay youth groups who were very Hooray For Everything in attitude, but far from cookie-cutter in appearance. Their energy and optimism was inspiring. I was proud by proxy.
Later that night, we went to La Salla Rosa for Meow Mix, which was this lesbian cabaret and burlesque show. It was less sexy than cheeky and absolutely hilarious. I kind of want a pair of sparkly red pasties. (Just for my own personal use, of course.)
On the way home, Liz and I talked about how many interesting people we've met since living in Montreal. (We met a lovely male-to-female tranny named Jessa, which got us on this topic). At Queen's, everyone was pretty Children of the Corn. We could think of very few exceptions.
Liz: "Are you white, straight and upper-middle class? Come to Queen's!"
I knew ONE gay person at Queen's, and I have already made five gay friends here. That's pretty neat, I think. Montreal seems to have a really supportive queer community. You're probably 100% less likely to get a pounding from a loutish jock here than in Kingston.
(Now playing: "God Makes No Mistakes", Loretta Lynn)
4 Comments:
A few things which need to be said:
Sofi makes a cute dyke, and the pride wallet chain was a perfect accessory. "Easily coaxed out" means voluntarily displayed; alcohol busts open the closet. Only 1.5 hours late? Wasn’t it loooonger? (oy.) Never watch anyone eating a pig’s heart. I can hook you up with pasties (sparkly or matte, with or without tassles, red – of course). And I'm glad everyone likes Jessa, because she's in town for 3 months.
And if a picture says a thousand words:
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v334/benjam1n/pride/pride_sofi.jpg
~Benjamin
Orange tongue + greasy greasy hair = HOTTTT.
Uh...that girl was eating a pig's heart? I thought it was really tough chocolate cake.
Ohhhhh! I get the symbolism now!
Too funny! After the emcee gave a rant about "artists and their suffering" and explained that she ate a pig's heart for us, I asked it you understood what he'd said. And I do believe you said that you had ;)
Also:
Eric: "Golly, Hyde, Marajuana's the bee's knees!"
("That 70's Show" - Red's dramatization of the effets of pot on his household.)
~Benjamin
I remember the word "coeur". Uh...and some other French stuff. Like "escargot". And "les boobies".
I was probably just trying to impress you.
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