This weekend is Pride weekend in Sacramento. I love Pride weekend, both the one in June and then Festival weekend in September. I love being tossed in a sea of sweaty, fabulous queers of all varieties. I love how everyone dresses up in their finery and you get the feeling that everyone's only about 75% as dapper in real life.
Excepting that this isn't real life. It's one of the few events in Sacramento that brings queers together from all walks of life. It is a celebration of our togetherness, our separatness, our radical normality and our unity. It's a time for meeting, greeting, networking, flirting and catching up. Everyone dresses up. Even those that appear dressed down.
Or under dressed.
I love Pride and the smiles, hugs, chats. The laughter. The over priced beer but you're drinking it on Capitol Mall and this is the first time Capitol Mall has been closed to traffic for a cultural event in over 12 years and that cultural event is YOU.
And then you're sitting there in this sea of queer and you realize that you're on the outs with every dyke you know, save one. The only dykes in town that you know and you can't even consider them friendly acquaintances.
Just saying that makes me feel strange and abnormal. Like there's something wrong with me. Like there's something wrong with us.
It would be easy to chalk it up to "it's not you, it's them." Or vice-versa. But I assume the truth lies somewhere in the middle.
It can't be all my fault or our fault. Neither can it all be their fault.
We're working on our stuff. That's all we can do. We can't take responsibility for the shortcomings or problems of others.
Regardless.
Sometimes I still feel mighty lonely.
Especially in a crushing sea of queer.
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