We’re Here! We’re Queer! We’re…Staying Home?
Last month, the organizers of Tampa Pride on the River canceled one of the Gulf Coast’s largest pride celebrations. The reason, they say, is the expansion of the Parental Rights in Education Act, commonly known as the ‘Don’t Say Gay’ bill. The bill allows the state of Florida to “fine, suspend, or revoke the license of any public lodging establishment or food service establishment if the establishment admits a child to an adult live performance.”
So, because the September festival typically features performers in drag, this could be a violation of the law, and an expensive one at that. The event can attract as many as 20,000 visitors to the Tampa area, including some parents with children.
Pride organizers in St. Cloud, a town just outside of Orlando, also recently announced the cancellation of a Pride event scheduled for this month. The city of Port St. Lucie canceled their Pride parade and will limit other events to people over 21.
The villains in this sad tale are, of course, Republican Florida Governor and presidential candidate Ron DeSantis, every office-holding Republican in the state of Florida, and all the Florida voters who elected these small-minded cretins. The leaders of the party are waging a culture war to the detriment of not only LGBTQ people, but also people of color, immigrants, and women—not because they have anything against these groups, per se—but because riling up the fears and prejudices of their voter base will motivate these voters to vote against things like health care reform, social services, better infrastructure, and most importantly, higher taxes for the very wealthy.
It’s a money-and-power-grab that comes at the expense of people who are already marginalized in our society. And it’s so bad that the Human Rights Campaign recently issued a travel warning about the state of Florida, citing a recent spate of anti-LGBT legislation that can only be interpreted as “open hostility” to LGBT residents and visitors. The NAACP and the League of United Latin American Citizens (or LULAC) have already issued similar travel warnings.
But every villain has a sidekick, a henchman, or a toady—and this time, I’m afraid it’s us. The correct response in the wake of a proto-fascist government criminalizing one’s very existence is not to pack up and go home. If anything, the noxious new laws that want to keep the children safe from our very presence ought to motivate us to get out in the streets, not cower in the shadows. If anything, our wigs should be higher, our voices should be louder, and the platforms under our sparkly boots should be taller.
I get why businesses don’t want to risk those fines. I can understand that drag queens and other celebrants don’t want to be arrested, or worse—physically attacked by citizens who feel emboldened by the hate and incivility being role modeled by their elected officials. It’s scary—of course it is. But fear is the opposite of Pride. Obedience, especially to an unjust power, is the antithesis of Pride.
Perhaps we’ve gotten a little too used to the idea that June is just a big rainbow-themed party having more to do with cocktails and funny costumes than activism or justice. It’s times like this that I’m sad we don’t have more intergenerational mingling among LGBTQ people. For all our talk about community, the gay Boomers, Gen Xers, Millennials, and Zoomers generally hang out with each other. And because of that, our history isn’t passed down from one generation to the next the way it happens in other oppressed communities.
So, if you think that Pride is all about glitter and dance parties, you should be reminded that the first Pride parade took place in 1970 in commemoration of the Stonewall riots, a spontaneous rebellion in Greenwich Village from a bunch of queers who were mad as hell and weren’t going to take it anymore. (If you need a refresher, tickets for Voices from Stonewall are on sale now for two performances at the CAMP Rehoboth Community Center on Sunday, June 25.)
It’s time to study our history, channel the angry energy of our ancestors, and remember what Pride means. Pride requires courage, and it demands justice. The good news is not every Pride celebration in Florida is being canceled. In a deeply rural part of the state, Lake County Pride is bravely going forward, despite threats from locals and a cease-and-desist letter from local government. “It’s not exactly being welcomed by the community where we’re having it,” said LCP CEO Danielle Olivani. “They don’t want this to take place, but we’re gonna persevere. We’re gonna have this Pride, because we’re fully within our rights to do so.”
That’s the spirit. ▼
Eric Peterson is Interim Managing Editor of Amble Press, a novelist (Loyalty, Love & Vermouth), and a diversity, equity, and inclusion practitioner. In his spare time, he hosts a podcast, The Rewind Project.