Remembering My First Gay Pride

I was going over my photo library this morning and landed on a forgotten folder called “Pride Pics.” So, I dug in. I remember taking these, with a really cheap camera I could afford at the time, decades before discovering digital “perfection.” But these often blurry, color-miscast images hold not just memories, but feelings as well. It was my first time experiencing Gay Pride, and I was excited. After the initial rally at a local park, featuring my drag friend Mark “Momma” Finley, I remember walking the short trek to the main street of Capitol Hill in Seattle, where I found a place to perch with my then friend and roommate, Scott.

It was uncharacteristically rainy and drab for June, and I didn’t care. I remember watching with a newbie’s excitement as the “Dykes on Bikes” Lesbians opened the parade on their loud, booming motorcycles, smiles and boas and leather swirling in circles as bystanders cheered. Then, an array of colors, costumes and a diverse community of “types” walked past, some in everyday garb and others proudly in their counter-gender attire. It was so much fun. And so awakening for me, a young man who wasn’t yet out this his family.

The quality of these images is horrible, and I love them for that. Sometimes, photographic images aren’t about quality of shot, but quality of experience.