Taking Pride—Part II: by Eric Marcus

June 17, 2007

I’m never more aware of my gay pride than when it’s challenged, which is what happened when my partner and I faced a pointedly prejudiced U.S. immigration officer in Canada a few years ago. We were in Calgary on our way home from a spectacular weeklong hiking trip and discovered at the airport that we would be going through U.S. immigration before getting on the plane—essentially a virtual border crossing well inside the borders of Canada.

As we approached the huge solid doors marked with the seal of the U.S. government, they slid open to reveal a cavernous, wood-paneled high-ceilinged room that was empty except for a large, unadorned desk, American flags planted on either side. An immigration officer was seated at the desk and he looked up when we walked into the room.

Without thinking we approached the desk together. I’ve always found the immigration process unnerving, because of course in the eyes of the law we are unrelated. So there’s a moment when one of us has been processed and is on the other side and I can’t help but worry that we’ll be separated for some reason. This was a remarkably casual setting for a border crossing and it didn’t occur to me that I had to be on guard.

When we got to the desk the officer didn’t bother to respond to our hellos and bluntly asked if we were “family.” As casually as I could, I said we were partners and traveling together. The officer responded, in a tone that made me break out in a sweat despite the room’s chill, “Step back.” I must have looked astonished, because he repeated himself, this time with a little more detail and even more steel in his voice. “If you’re not related, step back behind the line.”

I take enormous pride in the life I’ve managed to live despite the prejudiced world in which I grew up. And my relationship of thirteen years, which is extremely important to me, gives me a great sense of pride and accomplishment.

After spending the previous week on a trip together, with a group of twenty-four people, all straight, where we were accepted warmly as a gay couple, I wasn’t prepared for the immigration officer’s slap. And I felt slapped. We both felt slapped, but I’ve got a bit of a temper when I smell prejudice, so my partner gave me a look that said, “Don’t.”

Of course he was right. Pride is one thing. Stupidity is another. We had nothing to gain from challenging a man who could make our lives miserable. I stepped back behind the yellow line, which was imbedded in the carpet. Without saying another word he stamped my partner’s passport and once my partner was on his way through the exit doors, I stepped up and the officer wordlessly stamped mine. I bit my tongue and thought to myself, “Welcome home.”

So I have a confession to make. While I feel very connected to the idea of gay pride, I haven’t been to a Gay Pride March in more than a decade. Not that I haven’t been in the past. From the early 1980s on, I almost never missed an occasion to march, and over the years took my place in the parade with Identity House, Front Runners, PFLAG, GMHC, Vassar alums, Columbia alums, gay journalists, and PFLAG again (this time with my mom).

But then I stopped. There wasn’t a moment when I decided I wasn’t going to go anymore, but by the mid-1990s there were other things I’d rather be doing on the last Sunday in June than marching down Fifth Avenue and those things were usually well outside of the city.

I could try blaming the Gay Pride March itself for my absence or Heritage of Pride, the organizers, by saying that the parade is too commercial, the music too loud, the bikers and dancers too naked, and the overall approach not political enough for my taste. But that would be unfair, because all of those things were true during the years I marched and you didn’t hear me complaining. Much.

The truth is, what I said to my uncle thirty years ago in response to his critical comments about the March is now an appropriate response to why the Gay Pride March is no longer a big draw for me: the March isn’t for people like me. I’m nearly fifty, I’ve been out for more than thirty years, and I’ve got a healthy sense of my gay pride (and, not incidentally, participating in the Gay Pride March in the past helped me build that sense of pride).

So who is the Gay Pride March for? Good question and I’ll be interested to hear your thoughts on that, so write to me and tell me: eric@nycupandout.com.

In the mean time, here’s what I heard from one of you in response to my column last week. Paul is 57, newly out, and plans to be at this year’s Pride March, his first. He’s promised a full report on his impressions of the March, so tune in next week and I’ll share them with you. Until then, Happy Pride!

June 12, 2007

Dear Eric:
I was moved by the article in which you wrote about your responses to the questions posed by your uncle. Whenever we read about another person who has experienced something that mirrors something that hashappened in our lives, we realize that we are not alone. I felt that way when I read Greg Louganis’ biography. I felt that way when I read your responses to the two questions.

Unfortunately, I did not catch myself before my self-hatred resulted in me assuring that I contracted HIV, which turned into AIDS. My diagnosis was my coming out to my family and many of my friends at the age of 53. I am now
57 and am very supportive of gay youth organizations. I never want another gay child to be filled with such self-loathing that they repeat my mistakes. Every person is born a wonderful entity. I am encouraged by the changes that I see taking place around me. I have had to learn how to love myself. I am hoping that in the not-too-distant future, it will not be necessary for any gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgendered youth to have to learn that skill.

If only adults would take the examples set by children left on their own.
Aside from the occasional battle over some object of mutual desire, kids are pretty neat. They don’t see color, sexuality (except as a curiosity), nationality or even handicaps. In fact, children often exhibit more compassion than adults. And children usually just see another friend to play with. Yes – I do believe that we have reason to hope.

I will continue to do whatever I can in my arena to help GLBT kids around me. Thank you for all that you have done. I am hoping to make it to this year’s NYC Gay Pride Parade. Would you believe that even though I am only “out” on Long Island, that I have never attended? This is going to be a first for me! One is never too old to grow. After all, when you stop growing, you are dying. Thanks again for everything that you have done for our community.

Maybe my “significant other” and I will catch a glimpse of you at the
parade. If not, celebrate the day! I definitely plan to do just that because I realize that the world would be a poorer place without
me. That’s what this parade is all about……

Sincerely,
Paul E.
Islip Terrace, New York