Pride was something special for me this year, mainly because it was the first time I've celebrated. I went to the San Francisco parade. Probably half of the signs were exulting over the supreme court decisions. Seeing the people marching, the crowds of them, the rainbow flags and the equals signs, the Facbook contingent that seemed to go on forever--it felt good. A celebration throughout the city, all to do with me. For the first couple of hours my eyes were leaking regularly.
Then I was pretty over it. I mean, the fact that there are all these people who are supportive is great, but you can only watch them walk for so long. It was good to go and get a feel for what Pride is, but in the future I'll probably avoid it.
To be honest, after a while I sort of wished they'd stop making such a big deal about it. I understand that Pride serves a purpose, that it's a push back against long suppression, but I, personally, don't feel the need for that pushback anymore. I like the idea that it keeps happening because I feel like there are many people who do still need that pushback, but I'm not one of them. I don't feel very connected with them. I don't have all that much patience for them, actually. Maybe someday I'll feel more connected with them, feel more kinship with them, and so be willing to do pride things on their behalf or in solidarity with them or whatever. But for now, I don't feel much kindship with the ones who are still terrified and frightened. I find it hard to imagine that anyone could still be in the closet.
It occurs to me that this is a failing on my part. Where did my empathy go?