Pride Month has come and gone and it’s always a complicated time for me as a lesbian transgender woman. I am proud to be both, but those identities are often marginalized even within the greater queer community.
Sure, one can hardly attend a Pride celebration without hearing Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera used as shorthand to communicate “we aren’t transphobic,” but little is spent on how they led movements to advance LGBTQ+ rights for all of us even as they were ostracized by the cis gay community in the past.
They didn’t just throw a few bricks and call it a day. Lesbian Stormé DeLarverie, and how she was likely the real spark to the Stonewall uprising, is usually not mentioned at all. And if this is the first time you are reading about Stormé, you have proved my point.
The truth is that during the month when I should feel the most visible, I feel the most invisible. Cisgender gay men are undoubtedly the most recognizable public face of the community, and we all live in the shadow of the 800-pound gorilla that is their dominance of the LGBTQ+ cultural landscape. I was reminded of that at the beginning of the month when the news began to spread that Gay Days™ had been “paused.”
It was in reference to the circuit party held the first weekend in June and created after queer families began to visit “Gay Day” at Magic Kingdom in 1991, but was taken by many to mean ALL Orlando “Gay Days” events. Some poor souls even believed Pride in Orlando, which actually takes place in October, had been cancelled. Such is the dominance of gay male culture. Of course, it was far from the case as all other events were happening as scheduled, including the now renamed Red Shirt Day at Magic Kingdom as well as Girls in Wonderland.
In any case, Gay Days™ reversed course and reinstated their activities and Pride Month was “saved!” By the way, if you’ve never heard of the Girls in Wonderland queer women’s circuit party that has been around for over a quarter century in Orlando, you have again proved my point.
I am of course happy that at least SOME part of queer culture is prominent in the overall American consciousness. I just wish that the opportunities the success of gay-male-focused entertainment have created were more often used to help all of us in the LGBTQ+ community. Here is a practical example of what I mean:
Drag is often booked at Pride celebrations because it is theatrical, queer, entertaining and cost-effective.
It is a sure-thing crowd pleaser. When you are a little Pride celebration with a small budget, you can usually afford drag entertainers, even if they are lesser-known local names. What has happened though is that drag has become the de facto form of most queer entertainment, even within our own community. Need a host for an LGBTQ+ community event? Book a drag queen. Need entertainment for your queer non-profit fundraiser? Book several drag queens. It is easy, it is quick, the gay guys on the committee probably know somebody who knows somebody, and it doesn’t require the effort to seek out and book non-drag local queer entertainers. Entertainers who could probably use the exposure to the larger audience drag can provide, and who might also bring different members of the community in to experience your event, leading to broader support for your organization.
When I was on the board of Come Out With Pride Orlando, as one of the few lesbians and only trans person serving back then, I suggested hiring a local burlesque group of all queer women called the Les Vixens to be added to the premier nighttime entertainment.
As a group that had become enormously popular among lesbians for 15 years, the anchor of Girl the Party on Saturdays at Southern Nights, and winners of Orlando Weekly’s “Best Burlesque Troupe” for multiple years in a row, they had more than earned their shot at the big stage their drag peers occupied every year. And afforded the stage that first time, they brought the house down. That night, many gay guys saw a new side of Orlando LGBTQ+ entertainment, queer women felt seen in a way they hadn’t before, and the Les Vixens became known to a larger queer audience. It was a win-win for everyone and has continued to this day. Again, if you’ve never heard of the Les Vixens, see my previous statements.
To be clear, I am not saying drag doesn’t have a place in our queer entertainment landscape. It is undeniably a vital part of our community and still needed to break down barriers as much as ever. What I AM saying is that we need to practice what we preach and be inclusive ourselves to make our Prides and gatherings more representative of the community.
So I would ask, now that Pride Month has ended, give a thought to how you can break away from your unexamined patterns of the past and be more inclusive. If you have it, use your privilege to lift up other members of our LGBTQ+ community.
Listen to trans people and what they need to feel safe when out-and-about at gay bars. Ask a lesbian about popular female queer artists and local events they attend. Ask both if there are places in gay Orlando where they don’t feel welcome. It is already hard enough with our government doing their best to shove us back in the closet, so we should be doing our best to make sure all of us have a place in the sun.
Melody Maia Monet has her own trans lesbian themed YouTube channel at YouTube.com/MelodyMaia.
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