As summer progresses and continues to come
in hot (one can only hope), there’s a topic that needs to be discussed other than who’s sporting tan lines: Pride. In case you had any doubts, Gay Pride is in full swing, my friends. Therefore, let’s talk about what it means to be proud. Thanks to Google, who has proven to have more stamina than Webster and apparently the top in this relationship, we can define proud/pride (tomato/ to-mat-o) quite easily: Feeling deep pleasure or satisfaction as a result of one’s own achievements, qualities or possessions or those of someone whom one is closely associated. Now, call me crazy (most do), but nowhere in that definition does it state anything about bar-hopping, taking drugs, drinking until you blackout and then getting carted off in an ambulance because you’re dehydrated... And if you’re lucky, nothing left to remember your troubles by other than an overdrawn bank account, hospital bill and/or STD that can (with any luck) be cured in seven to ten days with one or more
medications...All hypothetical, of course. Unfortunately, the aforementioned examples are motives most of the younger genera- tion possesses during a Pride weekend. Any Tom, Dick, Harry or Pam can chug three
vodka sodas and do a line in the bathroom, just about any given calendar weekend without needing an excuse like Pride to party. Going balls to the wall (shaved, of course) because it’s Pride weekend? That’s kid’s stuff. Get back to me when you get “turnt up” on a Monday afternoon because you’ve finally come to terms with the fact that you’re no longer in your mid-twenties and are now entering
GOT PRIDE?
by cutter slagle
...Do we need a designated weekend to give us permission
to have pride? Especially, if we’re not even using that weekend to properly address the issues for which Pride was established in the first place...i.e. discrimina- tion, violence, shame, social stigma, etc.?”
your late-twenties (wildly unattractive as that may be), or dare I even say
it...Slipping dangerously closer to your thirties. That’s not permission from someone older and maybe just a tad bit wiser to go out and get tanked, but simply a sad revelation that Pride doesn’t really mean a whole lot to the younger generation . . . except that it’s “rage” time. By the way, I think it’s time to clarify something:
I’m not writing this with my nose in the air, holding on to the belief that I’m better than anyone. I mean, my nose is in the air, but that’s only because I haven’t found an affordable plastic surgeon in the area. My Pride weekend was, at best, sloppy last year. It was a red-hot mess that I’m embarrassed to even address. But we live, learn and grow — if we’re lucky. After all, we are only human. As humans, we may have questions from time to time. For example, one question that begs to
generation y
be asked (even though begging is a huge turnoff in some circle jerks): Why do we need a weekend devoted to being proud of whom we are? Don’t get the wrong idea; I’m not trying to be blackballed (is that more painful than blue balls?) in my community á la Stacey Dash. However, do we need a designated weekend to give us permission to have pride? Especially, if we’re not even using the weekend to properly address the issues for which Pride was established in the first place...i.e. discrimination, violence, shame, social stigma, etc.?” I wonder how many people are aware of the fact
that the first Rainbow Flag (the most common symbol of Pride) originally made its appearance in 1978, designed by Gilbert Baker in San Francisco? Or that Baker it is said, drew inspiration from the Flag of the Race, though his original version had eight stripes instead of six, symbolizing sexuality, life, healing, sunlight, nature, magic/art, serenity/ harmony and spirit? I didn’t know any of this, not until I decided to do a little bit of research. There’s a point swishing around in this merlot
haze and it’s an important one: It’s great to have pride and be proud of who you are—gay, straight, black, white (even Kayne West fans should stand up for themselves and what they believe in)—not just one weekend a year, but every day of their lives. So, while we engage in this year’s festivities and
maybe even indulging in a cock(tail) or two, let’s remember to not only embrace and celebrate all that we are, but to also keep in mind that “celebrate” and “party” in this sense, can have two very different meanings.
JULY 2016 | RAGE monthly 59
Page 1 |
Page 2 |
Page 3 |
Page 4 |
Page 5 |
Page 6 |
Page 7 |
Page 8 |
Page 9 |
Page 10 |
Page 11 |
Page 12 |
Page 13 |
Page 14 |
Page 15 |
Page 16 |
Page 17 |
Page 18 |
Page 19 |
Page 20 |
Page 21 |
Page 22 |
Page 23 |
Page 24 |
Page 25 |
Page 26 |
Page 27 |
Page 28 |
Page 29 |
Page 30 |
Page 31 |
Page 32 |
Page 33 |
Page 34 |
Page 35 |
Page 36 |
Page 37 |
Page 38 |
Page 39 |
Page 40 |
Page 41 |
Page 42 |
Page 43 |
Page 44 |
Page 45 |
Page 46 |
Page 47 |
Page 48 |
Page 49 |
Page 50 |
Page 51 |
Page 52 |
Page 53 |
Page 54 |
Page 55 |
Page 56 |
Page 57 |
Page 58 |
Page 59 |
Page 60 |
Page 61 |
Page 62 |
Page 63 |
Page 64 |
Page 65 |
Page 66 |
Page 67 |
Page 68 |
Page 69 |
Page 70 |
Page 71 |
Page 72 |
Page 73 |
Page 74 |
Page 75 |
Page 76 |
Page 77 |
Page 78 |
Page 79 |
Page 80 |
Page 81 |
Page 82 |
Page 83 |
Page 84 |
Page 85 |
Page 86 |
Page 87 |
Page 88