Pride

I was thinking of blogging about Pride when I was actually in the parade and all that.  I think I started a thought or two but nothing really came up or out.  Why?  Well, I feel like I’ve been gay forever and a day and honestly it’s no big deal to me.  It’s not something I can hide with this girly fella look or my inability to sit with my legs closed.  I did go out a ton when I was in my early 20’s and got all that out of my system, but I was never...Proud.  To this day I have not owned anything rainbow, gone to Toronto pride or attended pride openly in London.  For the last 10 years it’s not been a priority for me at all.

Today my friend with kids that I adore called saying they were watching it on TV looking for me.  The little one wanted to see me on TV like I was a celebrity.  “Watching for Rhonda!”  Despite shot gunning in the parade and seeing all the people enjoying the day it wasn’t until hearing the kids today that I felt proud at all about Pride and being gay.  Proud that the kids wanted to see me on TV.  Proud that they understood why I was there and it didn’t matter.  They just wanted to see me on TV.

In the last 18 years (ish) of me being openly gay things have changed in my world.  It went from being the elephant in the room with my parents to my mother and I joking about me dry humping the female mannequins at the fat girl store.  To me, being gay isn’t something to be proud of.  It’s part of who I am.  It’s not my best part.  I don’t think it’s even in the top 10.  To me, being proud means it doesn’t matter I’m gay.  It matters that 3 little people across town are happy and proud to see me on TV because they love me and not because I’m gay.