This weekend marks the anniversary of the Stonewall Riots in New York City in 1969, when gay men and women in the Stonewall Inn on Christopher Street rioted against the police who made regular raids on the bar. This sparked a multi-day marching demonstration against the oppression of gay people in America and is the reason why the Pride Parade takes place every year, despite the gross commercialization of the event today.
Me, I’m a “late gay”. I didn’t come out until my late twenties. But more to the point, I don’t derive a lot of fun from going to mainstream clubs–gay or straight. When I looked at the schedule for Pride weekend in NYC, I had the options of a club, another club, a rooftop club, a pool party club, a club party on Governor’s island, a club part on the Chelsea piers, the Parade and more clubs. The word “club” has now stopped looking like the word “club”. So, despite wanting to celebrate what I consider to be an important anniversary of the civil movement of MY time, I really didn’t think I had a lot of options. This got me to thinking about what Pride means to me.
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