This is not the time to march Pride back into the closet

This past weekend members of the Dallas LGBTQ community gathered in Fair Park to celebrate Pride. Though I dearly love the fairground, with its majestic boulevards and art deco buildings, having the LGBTQ Pride parade and celebrations there seems like a step backwards — back to a time when LGBTQ Dallasites were hidden away.

Though it was sometimes inconvenient to hold the Pride parade in the heart of the “gayborhood,” it still seemed the right place to do it. Dallas LGBTQ activists have long congregated at the crossroads of Cedar Springs and Throckmorton. The establishments there have served not just as eateries and watering holes, but as meeting places for activism and social change.

The bold, brash parades of the past served to let the city know that we are here and queer and a big part of Dallas that cannot be ignored. The first parades were more demonstrations than celebrations, and, considering the current political atmosphere in Texas, perhaps it’s time to return to the roots of Pride.

Holding Pride at Fair Park puts our celebration behind a wall. It sequesters us to a venue that may be more accommodating to the size of the event but not to the spirit of Pride. As the gayborhood becomes more gentrified, it’s important to stake a claim to the area that has long been the center of LGBTQ Dallas.

Walling off Pride feels far too much like marching back into a closet. Moving from the streets of Oak Lawn to the walled gardens of Fair Park puts Pride exactly where conservative politicians want us: Out of sight and out of mind.

And then there is the question of whether having drag queens on floats constitutes a “sexualized performance,” as is stipulated in the recent anti-drag bill from the Texas Legislature. Organizers of Pride have, in recent years, tried to de-sexualize the event. Making Pride “family-friendly” without people in leather, G-strings and drag kind of goes against the whole spirit of the celebration.

If we can’t openly celebrate our sexuality and individuality at least one day a year, what have we fought for? If we only wanted to “fit in” to acceptable societal norms, we might as well have stayed in the closet. Hiding Pride is a slap in the face to the brave queers at Stonewall, to the tireless activists across our country who have worked to carve out a place for LGBTQ+ people in the mosaic of America.

Hiding Pride is the exact opposite of what the whole LGBTQ civil rights fight has been for, and I take it personally. I have been involved in LGBTQ activism since the mid 1970s, and I really am offended when a big part of my life’s work is deemed too controversial or not gay-correct or somehow offensive to “families.”

I did not attend Pride in Fair Park. I will not attend Pride there. I will not put my Pride back in the closet.

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The parade was fun, but it needs to be out on the streets

I want to say a big thank you to Dallas Pride for putting on a spectacular parade this year. I participated as a driver for entry No. 19. From what I saw, the volunteers were the stars. Without exception they were cheerful and helpful. The entries were amazing and the flow from staging to end was flawless.

Overall, this must be one of the best orchestrated Pride Parades in the U.S., and the hard work by everyone at Dallas Pride was evident.

For all that fabulousness, at the end of the day, something was missing. As I drove away from Fair Park, I felt like I was driving away from a room of mirrors.

I know I’m not the first to complain about the venue. But this is probably the only Pride parade in the world that is not held out in front of the entire city. And because of that, we as a community are missing out on an important opportunity to gain public support for our cause and allies for our movement.

This year, Texas led every other state in the U.S. with the largest number of anti-gay bills at 141. It will get worse, and we see this happening in red states around the country. More than ever, we need every opportunity to educate and advocate for our cause. The role of Pride parades has always been, above everything else, to do precisely that.

After last year’s parade, I followed the venue controversy on social media. I heard that the venue choice had to do with security costs, route logistics and parking. If every other city in the world has been able to manage those issues so that they can march on the streets, why can’t we?

I urge the organizers to bring our Parade back to the streets. Aside from the commercial boost to tourism and local businesses, which in itself gives our movement leverage, it also gives many straight allies who are already aggravated with everything they read — banning books, drag brunches, not saying gay, denying trans kids the healthcare they need and the sport options they deserve — a venue to stand with us physically and maybe the inspiration they need to get more involved.

The anti-gay forces are well-funded and organized. They are Goliath, and we are David. We must be smarter if we are to win. They’re effective at framing fiction into anti-gay narrative. Our task in Texas, as I see it, is to expose their falsehoods and to reframe their narrative.

We can tell our story while marching. The battle is unfolding in the arena of public opinion, and we need to step out of that room of mirrors that is Fair Park and march proudly onto the battlefield: Our city streets. Drag queens front and center, please.