Pride Month

Beautiful Day ~ Jonathan Roy

I spent a good chunk of my youth in the closet, and it wasn’t until I hit the ripe old age of 18 that I finally told my mom that I LOVED girls.  But that’s a tale for another time. Once I came out as a lesbian, I became a walking, talking billboard for the gay community. I mean, it definitely wasn’t my short, bleach blonde hair making me look like Eminem in 8 Mile, or my wardrobe of baggy pants and oversized shirts. Nope, it was all very subtle. 

Back then, I was considered butch and I wore it like it was a uniform because, honestly, that’s what it felt like, but it was also who I was. You were either butch, soft butch, femme, or lipstick lesbian. I felt like these were the only options. Why options?  I don’t know I guess it was just a simpler period in time.  It wasn’t like someone could just waltz into the community and say, “Hey everyone, I’m a unicorn now! So, start calling me a unicorn and treat me like I just stepped out of a fairy tale.” Although, now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure most of the femme and lipstick lesbians were actually kind of thinking along those lines and I’m sure they still do. HA!

Our community's diversity has exploded to the point where even I can't always keep up and sometimes miss the mark. But I do my best to be compassionate and support everyone living their truest selves. As I've aged, I like to think I've become more accepting and understanding. Our community now boasts more identities and pronouns than a CVS receipt has items. Everyone is proudly expressing their true selves, bringing a fresh vibe that's definitely different from the early days of our community's growth.

No shade being thrown here, I’m all for the community growing! The more, the merrier, right? But sometimes it feels like we’re back in high school with all these cliques, and the judgment is flying around like confetti at a parade. Remember when we used to preach love, equality, unity, and all that warm, fuzzy stuff? Now, it’s like we’re at a company picnic playing egg toss, and someone’s always dropping the fucking egg. We’ve come so far and worked so hard to be ourselves without judgment, let’s not forget that journey!

Navigating the leap from my closeted cocoon to proudly standing tall, while watching the LGBTQ+ community evolve and sometimes splinter, has been like trying to solve a Rubik's cube blindfolded. It's a wild ride showcasing the colorful landscape of human experiences and the shifting sands of identity and acceptance. Amidst all the glitter and chaos, I'm still on a quest for understanding, compassion, and a dash of that vintage unity that initially brought us together.

After my recent heartbreak, or more accurately, the epic train wreck of a relationship that I naively thought was built on transparency, honesty, and maybe a sprinkle of love, I've come to the conclusion that I have to sit through this agony. Her betrayal was such a jaw dropping disaster that I couldn’t help but stick around to watch the fireworks. What a fucking mess! I feel like I’m stuck on the toilet trying to squeeze out a turd that’s playing hard to get. But fuck it, this pain is necessary because, despite the neon flashing red flags, I chose to ignore them like a pro. I was practically a disappointment junkie. Of course, I want to be mad at her, but honestly, I’m more pissed off at myself. Let’s be real, I probably would’ve never walked away at least not in this twisted scenario, obviously I stayed on the merry-go-round, hence all the pleasurable feelings I’m feeling. 

Here I am, in my moments of self-soothing and reflection, drafting a pros and cons list. The empty promises, invalidation, loneliness, insignificance, lack of accountability, and breadcrumbing have all the weight of a sumo wrestler on one side. Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to be an asshole here. There were some awesome moments, but I'm conveniently ignoring them for now. I let her treat me like a doormat, and I'll be kicking myself for a while for wandering off my moral compass. But again, fuck it, instead of letting anger devour me, I’m choosing to recognize my self-worth and chuckle at the absurdity of it all. After all, if you can’t find humor in heartbreak, what’s left to laugh at? With age, those disappointments just hit differently, and that’s okay. I’m definitely not weeping my eyes out with all the testosterone coursing through me. Though I might not be shedding tears, those stomach swirls sure come in waves!

So, cannonballing back into the single world probably happened at the perfect time, considering Pride Month is here and the activities are endless. I swear, thank goodness for my friends who have been nudging me out of my self-soothing phase, which, of course, is just my "hermit mode" to process my feelings and emotions.

I can't quite recall the last time I attended anything Pride-related, but I think it was during the events on K St. and 21st St. Back then, you just reached into your pocket for whatever loose change you had to enter, since it was donation-only. Now, they've slapped a whopping 20 bucks on the entry fee just to walk around and check out the booths. I only went because my buddy Chris was on daddy duty while his girlfriend was volunteering at one of the booths. It was a sight to see, the music vibrating through the streets of downtown and the gays out in full force.

By far, the best part of the day was watching Chris’s girlfriend’s daughter hit every booth just to spin the wheels for prizes. By the time we hit all the appropriate booths, she looked like a walking sticker parade, proudly showing off her collection.

The following day, I swung by and picked up Sandy, another friend I’ve known for about 20 years. We decided last minute to hit the Big Queer BBQ at Southside Park. Free event? We’re all in!! We had our ice chest full, with Sandy’s added tequila shots chilling. It wasn’t long before we got the party started. After a few drinks, we turned into fucking renegades, grabbing the Lime scooters and zipping through the park. When we get together, it’s like watching two unattended children in a bounce house disregarding the rules posted on the outside, technically those are for the parents to read.  We didn’t stop to smell the roses once, but Sandy decided to stop and smell the dirt as she face-planted from a little burnout attempt. I’m pretty sure those scooters aren’t made for off-roading, but we certainly tried.

It was a good day for being unexpected, making new friends, seeing old friends, dancing to the DJ’s choice of music, off roading on our Lime scooters, laughing, and just soaking in the sun among all the amazing people who showed up. Except for that one group in the corner of the park where the BDSM group decided to set up shop, talk about an unexpected! I even found my way to a picnic blanket where some fried chicken was left unattended. Jackpot! When you’re hungry, you’re hungry.

Celebrating Sacramento Pride this year was like finding a glitter-covered time capsule that reminded me how far we've come and how incredibly diverse our community is. Sure, we've had our fair share of changes, challenges, and those cringe-worthy awkward moments, but the spirit of love, acceptance, and unity is still shining brighter than a disco ball. Our journey from struggle to celebration is a testament to our resilience and the vibrant rainbow of identities in our community. I cherish these moments, embracing the present while giving a nod to the past and excitedly peeking into the future, as we all should!!