At 6:00pm we tore ourselves away from the party and headed downtown. I was admittedly apprehensive about attending Pride.  I come from a very conservative and religious background.  I had been brought up with a certain underpinning belief structure that an institution like Pride challenged.  Please understand I have since put portions of my past belief structure under personal reform.  Being in the scene for the last few years has changed my perspective on many prejudices and stereotypes I carried coming from a small, Christian, white, retirement town.  I haven’t abandoned the concept of intelligent design or some fundamental teachings I’ve always adopted such as the Golden Rule, respect for others and objectivism—but old daemons do not die easily, especially in the face of simply not knowing what to expect. 

I think I understand the purpose of Pride.  It’s to draw attention to an identifiable group that has unfair and judgmental adversity being thrown at it.  It’s a suffrage movement, of sorts.  The parade and events were to bring attention and enforce legitimacy of gay relationships.  Being in the scene, I had made a variety of friends who were gay and with a reasonable dose of humility had asked them about their lifestyle, explaining my rather ignorant background.  As I got to know them and their life partners and their friends in the EMS community who were also gay, I realized many of my conceptions about this culture were misconstrued (surprise!).

The EMS is steeps deeply in the gay scene.  Our own House music scene has roots in the black and gay communities of the 1970s and after.  The gay culture has an identifiable place in today’s EMS with clubs in Toronto like Fly, and events in Montreal like Black and Blue which are predominantly gay.  As a result, it makes a lot of sense there would be a significant EMS presence at Pride—and this was what I wanted to experience.

We parked a few blocks away and walked towards the street the festivities had claimed.  Each stage was caged in—I’m guessing so they could serve alcohol, keeping the minors out.  The music was easily heard through the fences though, and people were dancing everywhere.  Drunk, high, sober or just high on life, people were having a blast.  Dressed to the nines or very scantily clad, people of all walks of life dotted the side street we walked down towards the center of attraction.

A bunch of ladies marched up to us and a cohort introduced themselves as a Gaggle of Divas.  They were hilarious!  It took me a moment to consider these were actually men, dressed as women—it was like watching some sort of play or spoof. I didn’t know if they were poking fun or examining a side of themselves they felt was pure.  As ignorant as I sound, I made no call on it, and thanked them for taking a moment to talk and for some photos.

A moment later we passed a gentleman completely painted blue with orange coveralls.  The crowd roared and I turned to see what they were looking at and atop a building a muscular gentlemen started removing clothing to some House beats in the background.  Each piece that came off drew a larger furor from the crowd.  I laughed to myself and followed the crew down the street, bumping off someone who had a belt with dildos dangling from it.  I’m pretty sure it was the black one that bounced off of me. You know what they say about black…

The scenes were becoming humorous as my eyes seemed to be drawn instantly to the bizarre, the unusual and the weird.  I chastised myself knowing I should be filtering this carefully as a portion of Pride, not the mainstay, but as bizarre image after bizarre image captured me, I found myself very quickly becoming culture shocked with the intensity and enormity of it all.

Despite the slow onslaught of culture shock and mild intimidation of experiencing something very new and foreign—and though I was outside of my realm, I never felt ill-at-ease or threatened in any way.  There was a general sense of acceptance, belonging and dare I say it, love, that pervaded each person’s actions and intent.  It was clear no drama would be accepted here, the Pride events were for those with positive, open minds.

Being a parent, I do feel inclined to comment although Pride advertises family safe, I do not share this opinion, nor do many I consulted with on the issue before writing this.  Given the amount of sights subtly or overtly referencing sex or sex-related subjects, along with many publicly exposed individuals dotting the streets, I do not feel this is a proper environment for children.  This being said, I don’t think kids are in danger while attending this event—the general feeling I described before still pervades, and families I observed at Pride were treated with respect and positive ness.  If you’re a parent and considering attending Pride, simply be armed with the knowledge “family friendly” does not mean a G rating on content.  Be prepared to see sexual innuendo, publicly exposed genitals and all manner of sex toys.  As I said before, this isn’t the main point of Pride, but it’s certainly a pervasive theme I observed while walking through.

We ventured further down the street and finally came to the South Stage.  As far as I could see, every square inch of street was packed with people.  In the distance, I saw DJTK behind the booth of The South Stage, with hundreds of people in the beer tent totally going nuts.  We checked out the line to get into the South Stage.  It was nearly impossible—the line stretched around the block.  And apparently, once inside, it was another hour to get a beer.  We decided to cut our losses—the stage would be closed by the time we made it inside the gate!  I danced it up outside the beer tent for a bit as TK threw down a remix of Underworld’s Born Slippy.

Since we failed to gain entrance to the sought-after South Stage, we decided to gather up a few friends and hit a patio on a side street for some snacks and beers.  With the amount of new information and culture shock whirling around in my tiny brain, I found it could easily be quelled and calmed by consuming copious amounts of beers.

With Pride finished, I asked myself if I would go again next year.  Definitely.  I’d arrive with proper expectations, earlier in order to get into the stage of my choice, and with less of a ‘deer in the headlights’ point of view over every trivial sight I were to see.  I think the teething process is over (excuse the analogy) and I certainly look forward to sampling the event properly next year.

Click through to Part 3 >>