“PRIDE has been a trusted brand for over 35 years” – or so says the advertising copy for the laundry detergent that first came on the market in a rather plain, colorless, not-in-anyway-gay-or-fabulous cardboard box imprinted with the words “PRIDE Washing Powder.” And at that time in my life, cleaning products really were my only touchstone to PRIDE.
In the early ‘80s I still carried a wallet with snap shots in it, as did most everyone at that time. In place of the expected pictures of my girlfriend or wife I instead carried a gag photo obtained from a joke shop which featured a bottle of Johnson’s PRIDE furniture polish positioned next to a squeeze container of JOY dishwashing liquid. I was traveling the country with “Sesame Street Live!” at the time, and whenever some guy in a hotel bar would pull out his billfold to show pictures of his spouse and children, I would then pull out my wallet while asking, “Would you like to see a picture of my Pride and Joy?” I would then show him the snapshot of the side-by-side cleaning products and that usually got a laugh, and that laugh usually got me out of having to discuss anything at all to do with my personal relationships or the fact that at that time I was not welcome home in my own family. I had only recently come to qualified terms with myself with regards to my being gay and I couldn’t imagine at that time that I would ever be totally out of the closet. My mom had not taken the news well and she was worried that were I to visit I might expose the family to the newly named AIDS virus, which until just a short time prior had been more widely known as G.R.I.D. – Gay Related Immune Deficiency.
What a strange time that was for me just as I am sure it was for so many others. I had literally run away from home several years earlier to pursue a performing career but the only role of merit I had scored up to that point was that of a Magic Kingdom Jungle Cruise Skipper. I was totally in the closet while working at Disney and most gay people I encountered while working there were also in the closet while on Disney property. Those who admitted to being gay did so only among the most trusted of friends and were clearly fearful of losing their jobs were they to be found out.
My general ignorance regarding human sexuality and my actual fear that I myself might be suffering from this abnormality was only worsened by seeing those who were brave enough to admit they were gay going to such great lengths to ensure non-gay persons would not find them out. For me, this resulted in a pervasive feeling of general dread that was about as far removed as one could possibly be from feeling anything remotely related to PRIDE.
When I landed the role of a life-sized Muppet I was, on the one hand, bursting with PRIDE in that I was traveling the country in association with the well-respected name of Jim Henson with all the attendant prestige and the enviable income that came along with being in an Actors Equity unionized production.
The Oxford dictionary defines PRIDE as “a feeling of deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from one’s own achievements.” I had that feeling. But it was a feeling that was dramatically diminished by my unshakeable shame over being one of the type of people who were somehow inexplicably deserving of this “gay cancer” that was all anyone and everyone was talking about at the time.
When a fellow Muppet started losing weight and began exhibiting skin liaisons it was not long before he was unceremoniously no longer with the company. We showed up at the arena for a performance one night only to discover our friend had quietly gone home without so much as a goodbye. No one in management would say that he had contracted AIDS but what was really disturbing was that his understudy could not step into his role as Count Von Count, as was meant to happen, because the multi-thousand dollar Muppet costume and character head had been quite purposely burned. Incinerated on the spot. The show tracks had to be edited and the entire production relocked to adjust to the absence of this major character until such a time as a replacement costume could be manufactured and shipped out to our company on the road. It was hard to sustain a sense of PRIDE under such circumstances, amid whispered insinuations, timidly shared concerns and unspoken fears.
And so, despite the current unfathomable regressive anti-gay policies and general cruelty of the governor of the state of Florida when it comes to our LGBTQ+ community, I can’t help but feel a special added measure of Pride this month.
I had left Disney — where everyone was in the closet — to join the Muppets where everyone was openly gay and happily so, until our friends started dying. In time, scientists and medical professionals got a handle on AIDS and a diagnosis ceased to be a death sentence. In time Disney acquired the Muppets, merging two of my favorite realms. In time I burst out of the closet and never looked back. In time Disney embraced not only the financially viable Gay Days but also openly embraced and celebrated its gay cast members. And in time, the Mouse House actually stood up for our community and has continued to do so in a most public fashion. That is but one of many of what were at one time thought to be inconceivable occurrences in which we who live in Orlando – that little pocket of Blue in this horribly Red state – can indeed take PRIDE without referring to a cleaning product.
Michael Wanzie is an Orlando-based playwright, actor and ordained minister. He is most recognized for his direction of productions in the Orlando area.
