so i know how all you radical revolutionary city queers get about pride, i was that way once too. I couldn't go to any pride in any place without getting kinda cranky, ill from everyones smelly crap and smoke, and deconstructing ev-er-y-thing.... got to where i just wanted to stay home instead.
and lord knows it could happen again if i made a habit of going, but...on this day....i went for the first time in years. Since i moved here anyway.
I left the farm in the morning to head for santa fe and i was so out my body with worry , and major life decisions to make, wallowing in my isolation and mustering my bravest front. periodiaclly weeping frustration and longing on the 2 hr drive, not knowing why i was bothering to make this long exhausting journey to snobby ol' santa fe but making myself do it anyway.
and when i got there it was just what i needed. i resisted at first, rolling my eyes at the corporate commercial yickiness, and giving dagger eyes to all the smokers.
but then the dj started in with some gotta move to it 80s dance music like yaz or prince or whatever and before i knew it i was lying in the shaded cool grass, exhausted from dancing on the hot sun plaza, listening to all the sounds and taking in the people.
hoardes of all kindsa queers, all kindsa bodies and adornment, all kindsa genders.
and youth...beautiful creative brazen youth.
coming down my mountain top through the hetro, catholic, modest, rural valley that i live it was a feast for my soul.
and dare i say it...i felt... a little....proud.