TR # 9 - Proudly

"Then there's also that stuff there ...." My adventure at the first Gay Pride in my life starts like this, with my landlady MM who announced the events of the week, snubbing a rainbow-colored newspaper clipping. "If you want to go see that faggots' parade, be sure to spray yourself with a lot of insect repellent. Because it will be full of people with HIV, and no one has ever proved it, but who can tell that HIV is not transmitted by mosquito bites?" After a considerable effort not to laugh, cry, look too horrified... and in each of these cases, not to spit my food or choke, I nodded with participation and I got back to my room. To volunteer for the Toronto Pride 2010. The next day, I received a call that assigned me to the parade as "sign-carrier", with the polite request to dress in white.I wake up early on the Parade Sunday, I dress in white and spray myself... no, not with insect repellent, but sun protection, as the temperature could reach 32° and I just got back from a strong sunburn. I reach the headquarters of the Pride volunteers, crossing the sleepy street full of closed stands that are soon to give life to the show. I queue under the sun, realizing how hard it will be to resist the heat, I sign trying to spell my unintelligible last name and I get the pass, but not the colored t-shirt because my role requires white, Ugh! While I wait I eat a slice of pizza and sip icy water, and meet my colleagues. There's the girl who's volunteering because of her curriculum (the Gay Pride enhances your CV, who would have thought?), the young boy with the eye-liner that would give anything to get his period and the guy who is very white-skinned, and is worried about not being able to keep his skin white today, the black girls, so excited to participate in the parade that they haven't slept more than one hour in three days, the fifty-year-old fit guy, who's continuously spraying himself with sun protection and never missed a parade in 30 years. It's him that informs us that in 30 years, never a parade was canceled by bad weather, and proposes a fast track for those who want to walk drinking beer (it's forbidden to drink alcohol out on the streets); it's always him who tells me, based on my roots, of his recent trip to Riccione, and how everybody burst out laughing when he said had been to Rikkione... it's my turn to translate, of course, and to explain that "rikkione" means faggot in Italian.Finally, we are summoned and sent at the start of the parade, a few blocks north. We are told that, being the 30th anniversary of the Pride, we each will bring a sign around our neck on which one year is written, with the event which marked the history of Pride in that year, and we will march in pairs with balloons tied to our wrists, at various stages of the parade. I got paired with Jed, a girl from Toronto, and we have the years 1987 and 1988. My year, '87, marks the tenth year of operation of Brent Hawkes, a Toronto gay priest, thanks to whom gay marriage was legalized in Ontario (since 2005 it's legal in all Canada) and who's always been in the forefront of the struggle for gay rights. Father Hawkes happens to be at the parade and when we meet he thanks me for the sign around my neck. The parade starts, and we are condemned to wait in the atrocious hot weather while colorful characters and various associations march (like PFLAG, parents and friends of gays and lesbians, the Community of Father Hawkes, which gathers thousands of people shouting "nothing can separate us from God's LOVE"); to prevent the lynching of the public who can't see through the balloons, they make us move to another place, and finally me and Jed can march too behind the gay Jews association and gay policemen.The mass of humanity that has gathered in the streets, on the houses, roofs, under the sun to watch the parade is beyond description. Men, women, families, children, all with the colors of the rainbow and a smile on their faces, to greet us and encourage us... one million people it's what the news say today, and I wouldn't have said anything less. Some boys hold signs on their foreheads with the rules for a happy life: laugh-smile-love-dream, many are asking us to stop to take pictures and as Jed points out to me, we turned into two numbers "Hey, 87, stop! Call the 88 as well!"... it seems to be on the red carpet, and there is also the national TV, I wonder if MM is watching me from home! At one point I understand why the group of Israeli has policemen who march before and after: some idiots among the public try to invade the parade, but they're blocked immediately, at least today should be free from politics! But the atmosphere gets relaxed again, two guys behind us improvise acrobatic rock'n'roll on the street, the truck before us plays the typical songs of the Pride, among which I find out Rhianna has been included and instead I can't hear Lady Gaga. After a two-hour parade I'm just about to collapse from the heat, but I'm proud. Proud to be part of this event, proud of a city that brings a million people on the streets, proud to represent a great man like Brent Hawkes, who's in the audience, sees me and thanks me again, when it should be me to thank him and all those like him who are fighting for the rights of those who don't have enough voice to fight alone. After the parade we head back to the headquarters and I meet a family who asks me if I can give the balloons to their child, and God forbid, I'm just glad to get rid of the weight! I finally refresh myself with icy water, pizza and vegetables to dip. Greeting Jed and the others, I head back to the subway walking down the street that this morning was still asleep, and is now in full swing. The sidewalk has a rainbow drawn to indicate the way to the subway, and all those I meet smile to me and wish me Happy Pride.On the subway there's an elderly lady, the volunteer pass on her neck. She smiles at me, I smile at her. Proudly, Happy Pride.