It's that time of year, again, when all across the nation, leathermen are polishing their chaps and vests, gogo boys are tightening their abs, and the dykes are revving up their bikes.
Yes, my friends, it's Gay Pride 2013!
But, for me, Pride just isn't what it used to be. Nothing is, really. That, sadly, is the nature of change, progress, and evolution. The institutions we once held sacred will inevitably fall out of favor, and the way we did things 43 years ago in June of 1970 aren't the way we do things, now.
I can't speak for the 70s, or much of the early 80s, but what I can tell you is that we are, in my not-so-humble opinion, stuck in a big gay rut.
I am often accused of being a naysayer, always willing to point out what's wrong with things, but never providing any solutions. Oftentimes, however, I feel that label is inaccurately ascribed to me by people who only take in the criticisms I put forth without hearing any of the other words that come out of my mouth or out of my fingers.
That's what happens, however, when a nerve gets tripped - people shut down their external audio meatus and focus on the thing that's pissing them off. I do this; you do this; everyone does it. Human nature compels us to seek out those whose opinions, beliefs, and characteristics are closest hewn to our own, though doing so often leads to stagnation and a lack of forward momentum.
This is, in my opinion, what is wrong with the way the LGBT community is moving forward in this century in terms of building up a community and subcultures within those communities: the leaders of the last generation refuse to hand over the reins to the next group of leaders, and will accept no dissent from within.
I've seen it happen more times than I care to remember, in several different settings:
A group of guys of a similar age group get together to plan an event, and they start to brainstorm.
It sounds all good, right? We've been taught that brainstorming is a great way to come up with new and unique ideas, and we've believed that for over sixty years, so it must work, right?
Well, if you believe that, you'd be wrong.
Brainstorming was first described in print by Alex Osborn, a partner in the B.B.D.O. advertising agency, in his 1948 work, "Your Creative Power." In Chapter Thirty-Three, he outlines the process for "organiz[ing] a squad to create ideas," and calls it "brainstorming."
"Creativity," Osborn writes, "is so delicate a flower that praise tends to make it bloom, while discouragement often nips it in the bud."
The number one rule in any brainstorming session is that criticism and arguments of feasibility frighten members of the group, making them less likely to contribute ideas. Why, you could be missing out on a GOLD MINE between someone's ears (and that's actually a [stupid] title for a real book)! Only free associations and ideas should be put forth, and no negativity or dissent is allowed.
"The appeal of this idea is obvious," writes Jonah Lehrer of The New Yorker, "it’s always nice to be saturated in positive feedback. Typically, participants leave a brainstorming session proud of their contribution. The whiteboard has been filled with free associations. Brainstorming seems like an ideal technique, a feel-good way to boost productivity. But there is a problem with brainstorming. It doesn’t work."
Lehrer penned his New Yorker piece, "Groupthink - The Brainstorming Myth," in January of 2012, and in his piece cites several peer-reviewed, highly-creditable studies from the present all the way back to 1958. And the findings are overwhelmingly in his favor - "Criticism allows people to dig below the surface of the imagination and come up with collective ideas that aren’t predictable."
This is a fact that is central to why performance groups with the highest ratios of success, from Broadway to drum corps, all largely comprised of design teams whose personalities clash. Those whose success is limited, but mentionable, often have design teams who practice the myth of brainstorming, and inevitably fall into the "Groupthink" trap - everyone agrees on the theme, everyone agrees with the direction things are going, and everyone affirms everyone else's ideas, regardless of how stupid they are, because we don't want to stifle creativity, now, do we?
The reality is that this approach rarely nets extraordinary results. Criticism and arguments of feasibility allow creative groups to "dig below the surface," and come up with solutions to those problems before they become problems.
Pride, for me, is one of those examples where a good idea that started out great has ended up, frankly, being lame. I won't speak for anyone else, but I feel about as much sense of being a part of a community at these things as I do when I get in my car and drive down the road.
Actually, that's a great metaphor for how I view Pride festivals - I'm driving along, and some asshole cuts me off, while another person is driving between lanes, and there's a motorcyclist swerving dangerous in and out of traffic, and someone's blown a tire in the Number Two lane, which is backing up traffic for three miles, and my air conditioner isn't putting out enough cold air to counteract the sun's bright as fuck rays, and the car next to me has a "system" in their car that's so loud and heavy on the base it's actually causing the overpass on which we're stuck to shake beneath us.
That, for me, is Pride. It's a giant clusterfuck of people who are all there for a variety of disparate reasons, who are hot, hungry, overly drunk, puking in the grass, and who can't help but be certain to stumble directly in front of your feet, causing you to spill your own $10 solo cup of flat beer.
It must've been around 2008 when this charade lost its charm, for me. An event that was created to commemorate the Stonewall Riot of 1969, to show a stance of solidarity and unity, and to let the world know that we are people, too, and that our rights matter no longer seems to stand for that.
Instead, we use it to hold yet another variation of White Party Weekend...or Southern Decadence...or Bearquake...or Lazy Bear Weekend...or IML...
We've taken an event that was supposed to unify us as a single community and turned it into a circuit party.
L.A., San Diego, and Long Beach Pride all have a parade that's free to the public, but the actual festival requires an entrance fee. Forgive me for being offended, but a community event designed to bring the community together should never assess a fee for entry. That specifically goes against the very concept of a "community," as it excludes those without the ability to pay.
"But, Pride has expanded over the years, and now includes concerts, bands, rallies, dances, parties...how ELSE are you going to pay for all that?"
Well, here's my answer - that's not the purpose of Pride.
New York City has it right - the street fair and parade are free, and the individual events are privately run and ticketed events.
You know you're doing Pride wrong when you have a V.I.P. entrance and special privileges. THAT'S not "community;" that's "commercialism."
Pride has devolved into something that occurs simply because "it always has," and anytime someone comes out with an argument of feasibility or criticism, they're labeled an "internal homophobe," a "naysayer," or accused of attempting to destroy the event.
We, as the gay community, have become the Republican Party - no dissent from within. We all have to tow the same line, and not make a fuss, or we're out like last year's Prada.
This is largely due to the fact that the very same leaders whose efforts and battles we are supposed to be celebrating have refused to turn the reins over to the next generation. They still act like Pride is the only game in town, and without it, all other events would fail to occur. As any event producer worth their snuff will tell you, the show will go on, with or without you.
I've endured countless planning committee and board meetings in which anytime I voice a contrary opinion or point of view, I'm shot out of the sky.
"Why can't you just give it a rest, and let us do our thing," they'll scream. "Why do you always have to tear everything down?"
And this is where the back and forth of "communication" breaks down. Regardless of whatever words come out of my mouth from that point forward, they're not listening. They don't want to hear it. I'm just being difficult, and nothing that I say could possibly be either accurate or helpful, as I'm just trying to tear them down.
Nothing satisfies their clearly rhetorical query of, "Well, what do you suggest we do differently?"
Oftentimes, I've already laid out for them my suggestions three or four minutes prior, but they were too busy "not hearing" what I was saying to hear what I suggested. And thus, I get frustrated with them. I've already given you the answers to your question; why the hell do I need to go back and tell you the exact same thing all over again? If you'd just stop skimming the text and letting your predisposed hatred of my position block up your ears, you'd have gotten this point minutes ago, and we could have hashed it out, and come up with something great. Instead, you're insisting that we "stay the course."
Once I give up on that manner of attack, I get hit with the, "Why can't we do both" argument, often from the people who most frequently complain that they've overcommitted themselves to so many events that they're just exhausted and have worked themselves sick. That's not to say that they haven't, but they've answered their own question before they've even asked, leaving me to wonder, "When did I ever say that we couldn't?"
Largely, the reason we can't do both comes down to resources, both financial and human. The LGBT community is overwhelmed with charity events, fundraisers, tea dances, circuit parties, festivals, title contests, and gay cruises...and THEN, there's Pride.
I kind of feel like we've got an entire year filled with parties and events, and Pride, as a community event, has been cheapened as we have gradually turned it into the Rainbow Party.
I'm never against a party - hell, I love to host them - but, is this really the best way for us to unite our community?
This Pride season, I would like for everyone who celebrates to take a moment to remember why these events were started, as opposed to how we celebrate. If Pride, for you, is just an excuse to get overly drunk in public, make a spectacle of yourself, and assert your right to feel like it's okay to limit the festivities to only specific groups of people (i.e. - "straights and families not welcome"), YOU are doing it wrong.
I urge each of you to boycott so-called "Pride" events where you have to pay to get into the festival; to refuse to pay to get into an exclusive party; to refuse to pay to be part of a parade. I urge each of you to throw your OWN goddamned parties, at your own expense, and give back to your community, not by going to the festival and lining the pockets of community organizations who seek nothing more than to fund their own agendas and profit off of your "higher disposable income," but by celebrating what it means to be a community.
Welcome in your neighbors and friends, straight, gay, bisexual, transgendered, or neuter, and foster community growth by getting to know people and show them who you are; who we are. This isn't about who can throw the biggest dance party, how many vendors you can get in the festival, or how many V.I.P.s you can get to grace your festival - it's about building relationships and letting the world know that we are all equal.
If you think Pride is just about a big party, you don't have the first clue about why we celebrate.
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