Southern Decadence
I spent the afternoon today with three close friends from work in the French Quarter for the annual Southern Decadence festival. Decadence has become a major New Orleans celebration of gay culture completely dressed up in outrageous attire and shamelessly spoofing in humorous parody the state of our current events. From what I understand about the history behind the celebration, it was started by a group of gay quarterites in 1972 that was bored with the uneventful summer season and decided to try to remedy the usual doldrums and spiritless funk that comes along with the heat by throwing an interestingly funny costume party. It must have been a success because it has now been taking place annually for thirty-five years.
Even though the event is all about nothing more than having fun, it’s nice to be able to frame it in history. We have a history. It has been being built and shaped by many courageous and conscientious people throughout many generations. Gaywise, I was born at a relatively easy time. Most of the really hard groundwork had already been laid by strong marginalized people who were raised in a society that wouldn’t even mention its name. If it was mentioned, it was spoken in sickly and shameful connotation. Most religions have regarded homosexuality as sinful. The psychiatric establishment continued to label homosexuality a mental disorder up until the early 1970’s. The justice system had and in some cases still does treat it as a crime. These and other attitudes have justified and perpetuated many people’s negative prejudices toward gay people. The people who unknowingly started the gay rights movement rightly identified this as injustice and slander. They deemed it unacceptable and planted the flag in the ground of human rights.
As with any parade, there always seems to be a little rain. In our case it’s the Christian religious fanatics. I’m not sure who they represent, but every Decadence and Mardi Gras, a small contingency of them show up preaching scripture through bullhorns and displaying vulgar signs of lies. (Our vulgarity is meant to entertain.) They march right down the parade route. This never goes over well. As to be expected, most of the onlookers jeer, boo and hiss. I heard that some of the gays were pelting them with drinks from the balconies the night before. I’ve often wondered, what is the best way to approach this situation? Do you shout, do you debate, do you ignore? I certainly won’t let other people’s crass behavior influence mine. If it does influence me, it makes me want to be the bigger person.
Anyway, me and April and SzuHan ventured off to The Corner Pocket after the parade. This is a kind of off the beaten track French Quarter bar where young guys dance on the bar in their underwear. Of course, it was packed. When I asked him, one the dancers told me he had made more than two thousand dollars the night before. He also told me he was an adult movie actor. Who knows? April was trying her best to get me to pose with him for a nasty picture, which we did, and then right after that, the owner of the bar rushes up to us and grabs April and SzuHan each by their arms and yells, “Get the fuck out of my bar!” We didn’t know photographs were not allowed. I’m sitting there on the pool table with my jaw dropped. We diffused the situation with our innocence and didn’t have to leave. I was, however, the only guy to bring two girls to a bar filled with horndogs. Nothing was said, but I could sense the animosity from a few patrons and noticed the snide looks I was getting from some of them. Maybe it was my paranoid imagination, but we didn’t care and had a great time. Then Neval showed up and then there were three. April kept shoving condoms in my pockets. Lifetime supply.
I feel lucky. I feel proud. This sort of thing didn’t happen not too long ago. I can really appreciate the tremendous strides that have been made, faster than I would have ever thought. It’s not just gays at this parade; there is everyone. Fathers and siblings and families and children. We’ve exposed ourselves and people have gotten to know us. And you know what? They like us.
I spent the afternoon today with three close friends from work in the French Quarter for the annual Southern Decadence festival. Decadence has become a major New Orleans celebration of gay culture completely dressed up in outrageous attire and shamelessly spoofing in humorous parody the state of our current events. From what I understand about the history behind the celebration, it was started by a group of gay quarterites in 1972 that was bored with the uneventful summer season and decided to try to remedy the usual doldrums and spiritless funk that comes along with the heat by throwing an interestingly funny costume party. It must have been a success because it has now been taking place annually for thirty-five years.
Even though the event is all about nothing more than having fun, it’s nice to be able to frame it in history. We have a history. It has been being built and shaped by many courageous and conscientious people throughout many generations. Gaywise, I was born at a relatively easy time. Most of the really hard groundwork had already been laid by strong marginalized people who were raised in a society that wouldn’t even mention its name. If it was mentioned, it was spoken in sickly and shameful connotation. Most religions have regarded homosexuality as sinful. The psychiatric establishment continued to label homosexuality a mental disorder up until the early 1970’s. The justice system had and in some cases still does treat it as a crime. These and other attitudes have justified and perpetuated many people’s negative prejudices toward gay people. The people who unknowingly started the gay rights movement rightly identified this as injustice and slander. They deemed it unacceptable and planted the flag in the ground of human rights.
As with any parade, there always seems to be a little rain. In our case it’s the Christian religious fanatics. I’m not sure who they represent, but every Decadence and Mardi Gras, a small contingency of them show up preaching scripture through bullhorns and displaying vulgar signs of lies. (Our vulgarity is meant to entertain.) They march right down the parade route. This never goes over well. As to be expected, most of the onlookers jeer, boo and hiss. I heard that some of the gays were pelting them with drinks from the balconies the night before. I’ve often wondered, what is the best way to approach this situation? Do you shout, do you debate, do you ignore? I certainly won’t let other people’s crass behavior influence mine. If it does influence me, it makes me want to be the bigger person.
Anyway, me and April and SzuHan ventured off to The Corner Pocket after the parade. This is a kind of off the beaten track French Quarter bar where young guys dance on the bar in their underwear. Of course, it was packed. When I asked him, one the dancers told me he had made more than two thousand dollars the night before. He also told me he was an adult movie actor. Who knows? April was trying her best to get me to pose with him for a nasty picture, which we did, and then right after that, the owner of the bar rushes up to us and grabs April and SzuHan each by their arms and yells, “Get the fuck out of my bar!” We didn’t know photographs were not allowed. I’m sitting there on the pool table with my jaw dropped. We diffused the situation with our innocence and didn’t have to leave. I was, however, the only guy to bring two girls to a bar filled with horndogs. Nothing was said, but I could sense the animosity from a few patrons and noticed the snide looks I was getting from some of them. Maybe it was my paranoid imagination, but we didn’t care and had a great time. Then Neval showed up and then there were three. April kept shoving condoms in my pockets. Lifetime supply.
I feel lucky. I feel proud. This sort of thing didn’t happen not too long ago. I can really appreciate the tremendous strides that have been made, faster than I would have ever thought. It’s not just gays at this parade; there is everyone. Fathers and siblings and families and children. We’ve exposed ourselves and people have gotten to know us. And you know what? They like us.
