This has been the second year in a row I haven’t marched in San Francisco Pride, after having marched in it for years before.
I feel sort of weird about that, it’s been just about my most important holiday for ages. I’m too gimpy right now … even if the Bay Area Bi Network has a truck for our contingent that I can ride in, getting *to* where the contingent waits then waiting there is really hard for me at this degree of gimpiness.
And this year, too, I just sorta wasn’t feeling it. I know that there is some inherent political expression in it, no matter what, but the political kerfluffle got a bit much for me last year, I’m starting to feel a little bit of a party line to toe that I haven’t felt in the community since I was much more peripheral to it, back in the seventies and early eighties, when my eldest sister was in a community of pretty hardcore lesbian socialist activists, some of whom (for instance) would have huge arguments about (say) the need to support lesbian mothers and let them bring their children to lesbian spaces while at the same time maintaining womynspace, and thus the need to draw a line about letting lesbian mothers bring boy children to gatherings, the need to decide when a child developed “boy energy” enough to be excluded. And of course, trans was right out and bi highly suspect.
As I said, I was very peripheral to that mini-community, an interested and welcome bystander of a sort, but the feelings of “wait, it’s more complicated than that” have been arising around Pride and politics for me these days, with the concurrent discomfort in discussing how I feel about the issues.
But I love Pride, and I love identifying as queer and having that all be part of my life. I love contributing to bisexual visibility. I love the party. I am just not as sure as I used to be how to participate in a way that feels full and comfortable for me. I’m in a two-mom-one-dad household but my primary romantic partner is male, I have no female partners. I have a kid, but I don’t feel like i’m out on the queer-mom front lines the way other two-mom families are, where the moms are a dyad. But the shape of my family is a lot of who I am right now, a lot of what makes me queer.
I’m a very middle-aged, gimpy, suburban nowhere-on-anyone’s-gaydar white mother of a preschool-aged boy. What do I do with this?