My first Gay Pride (triptych)

by Eric Franklin Crow

One. 
My first gay pride was in San Diego in July 1995, nine months after I'd moved back to San Diego. I moved back in with my parents with the idea of salvaging what time I had left—this was a year before the first protease inhibitor cocktails (for HIV) were made available to the public. In the meantime, all they could do at Owen Clinic was prolong the lives of their patients and make them comfortable. In the time since I'd left the abusive relationship, I started singing with the choir at Imperial Beach United Methodist Church (the first time I met another gay minister, and the first man after Chuck that I had a crush on). I also started volunteering at Being Alive San Diego, where I took on the position of Assistant Editor to the newsletter. 

As the result of the second last all-nighter I had on meth, I started writing poetry, just like I did in the months before I came out (only then it was song lyrics) and had about a hundred poems in the can. I have one last all-nighter on meth on May 9, 1995 (I was told the same day five years before that that I was HIV+), and that would provide me my moment of clarity. In the several hours I had the room, the person I invited into the room (who kept feeding me lines) brought a number of men into my room, and there was talk of them doing things to me that I wasn't ready or able to handle. In short, my moment of clarity was that I could have been raped again. I was just done (now 24 years clean.)

I had my first short relationship about five months after being on my own. I was celebrating my 26th birthday at Davids' Place, and caught the eye of a farm boy from Indiana named Jimmy. We were boyfriends for three months, and he always has a place in my heart for being the first person to treat me right. My parents and I also moved from the recycled garage that was turned into a two-bedroom house, to more spacious three-bedroom house on Estrella Ave. I had food, lodging, money, friends and involvement. I couldn't ask to be in a better place.

Later in the year, I would start singing duets with Carol, one of the sopranos in the choir, would eventually have my own singing gig at Davids' Place Coffee House. The story behind David's Place was that the owner, Rick Osborne, had two lovers, both named David and both who died from complications to AIDS (this is still how we say it), and he got tired of going out with them and being stared at all time, so he created Davids' Place for people to and be themselves, free of judgment to society. 

I'd also started seeing a therapist because of certain "non-vanilla" thoughts I was having about my sexuality. I saw Dr. Fritz Klein, author of “The Bisexual Option,” and he suggested I attend some Bi-Forum San Diego meetings. As I wrote about in detail I had played bi to get out of a confrontational situation, but the more I started to think about it, the more I wondered, “Maybe I really am bisexual. As it turned out, the answer is yes, but only biologically. As in, I could have sex with a woman and enjoy it, but I have just always been oriented towards the masculine energy and the emotional and sexual company of men. I would take my first trip to San Francisco with my boyfriend-turned-good-friend, Jimmy and be 100% scholarshipped go to to my first Strength For the Journey. If I knew then what I know now...

Two. 
At first, I'd planned to attend the parade, to see what it was all about. That changed quickly when I learned that Being Alive was decorating a float with carnations, and so it was another chance of putting those high school float committee moments to work. I mean the works, paper carnations and everything. I had put my hands to work writing editorials, why not put them to work building a float. 

Marching in your first gay pride parade, as you would imagine or have experienced, is a most momentous occasion. The sight of thousands of people on the streets cheering you on down the parade route is something you have to experience to understand, and there is something of a Doaist phenomenon at work. It's like when the lights go down the moment before a concert headliner takes the stage; in that moment, the roar of the crowd is so charged, so energized, it becomes a mystical experience. To go from being on the kitchen floor writhing in pain while being kicked for using the wrong utensil in cooking, to being surrounded by loving, accepting people all headed towards the same goal, is a moment of salvation that makes you understand the words to the song "Amazing Grace."

I took the #7 bus there and saw people dressed in Pride and rainbow garb get on as we got closer to the start point and staging areas. It was strength in numbers on steroids. San Diego's parade route starts on “Normal” Street and goes down University, turning on Sixth Avenue (where the most people congregate), heading down to Upas and turning into Balboa Park, toward the festival in Marston Point (campily named the "Fruit Loop"). This marked the end of the parade, and as they came in, floats had their respective spaces to turn in from here, and many of us headed toward the festival. All the drag queens, the muscle boys in thongs, the color, the festive energy, was all there, as it was in the staging area.

The walk from Upas & 6th to the start of the Festival was about 7 blocks long, and many who were in the parade headed right over, having volunteer shifts to get to, or they just wanted to get there early to enjoy the festival while they could--before the crowd arrived. For the great unwash, after the last float in the parade happens, that's the cue for all all spectators to start marching toward the festival. A great throng of people arrives at the entrance gates, ready to eat, drink and be merry this one weekend of the year. 

Three. 
I bought a day ticket, and once inside the entrance, it was like stepping into another world. The first thing I remember is walking the festival route and being hugged by about 50 people I knew in the community. The impact of this was tremendous. There was no hate from the outside world to have to worry about, no anxiety about being called names or being stared at for what I wore or who I loved. I felt loved, honored and welcomed into this place. Of course, there were all the information and vendor booths, not to mention a ton of food and the beer gardens (I never saw got that, but to each his own). Myself, I most liked the the Lemonade stands. Fresh squeezed lemonade to quench the thirst. I made it an annual tradition each year after to have at least one each day of the festival.

For me, the main attraction inside the festival, big audiophile that I am, was the MainStage—a lineup of local and national bands, stand-up comedians, the Gay Men's Chorus and Women's Choir, with a headliner each night. Pussy Tourette, Extra Fancy and BETTY—I saw them there for the first time, and loved them all. I would venture out of the MainStage area now and then for another lemonade or to check out some vendor booths, but for the most part, I stayed put around the MainStage.

At the end of the day, I found Ed Seebol, then director of Being Alive. He asked me if I was enjoying myself. It had been a long day and I was tuckered out, but I was glowing on the inside and apparently the outside. Total surprise in 3...2...1, when he asked, “Do you want to come back tomorrow?”, pulling out another ticket. I jumped at the chance. He put the pass in my hand, gave me a hug and said, “Have a great time!” I was all smiles inside out, and as I left the festival, I decided to walk down to University to catch the bus home. The night was made of Magick. It was a cloudless night sky full of visible stars. Lots of festival attendees walking towards Hillcrest to do the bars. And Davids' Place was open late on weekends, so I stopped for an Italian soda and to chat with friends. Hillcrest was humming with excitement, conversations, people freeing themselves from the constraints of homophobia, if only for this one weekend. I never felt more connected or free in my life. 

There's not much more to tell after that. Sunday was more relaxed and more of the same—no parade to get ready for, people heading to the festival in bike taxis. The Sunday headliner was Bronski Beat, which I'd never heard of before that night. The main attraction for me on Sunday, after an afternoon of bands with a lot of guitar (jazz and funk bands), was BETTY. They were like a cross between Vanity 6 and Manhattan Transfer. Allison Palmer was this modern day Amazon goddess who played bass, and she was flanked on either side by the Ziff Sisters, Elizabeth and Amy, on guitar and cello. They used a Linn drum machine for the rhythm section. BETTY did film shorts for HBO Encyclopedia and wrote the cover song for the L Word. I soaked up every minute of it and stayed for Bronski Beat--though I didn't know any of their music, I liked the beat and the energy (I'd give it a 78).

The one thing I forgot about completely during the whole weekend was sunscreen. There’s only so much shade under the trees in the Fruit Loop. I think I had a 3rd degree sunburn on any part of my body not covered by clothing, to the point where I was shivering uncontrollably in the cool of the evening. It took about a week to heal, but I'd been through worse pain in my life--this was child's play.

In 11 years of doing San Diego Pride, I only watched the parade once, and that was 1999, the first year I opened for the Youth Xone. That was the 25^thanniversary of San Diego Pride, also the year Berlin and Joan Jett & the Black Hearts double headlined, with Judy Tenuda coming on before Joan Jett. That was also the year someone threw tear gas into the streets. I missed that. The next year, I participated in the first mass commitment ceremony that SD Pride had in 2000. Rev. Tony Freeman of MCC San Diego officiated it. It was political, but I chose to partner with Tom because he was the one I thought I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. 

So when I hear all this talk about “straight pride,” I get outraged and I post a few things, but then I remember what Pride is about and I think of all the good times I have had, for the cause, and I think of all the parades I've marched in (this year is my 25th anniversary of LGBT community involvement and activism. In 2003, as Mr. San Diego Bear, I had the pleasure of sharing the back of Papa Tony's black convertible with John Caldera (the first International Mr. Bear) and David Stillman, Mr. Palm Springs Bear 2003, as Bears San Diego marched in the parade, and then again in 2005 as Mr. San Diego Eagle, with the Leather Pride contingent. I’ve even had the pleasure of marching with my sister and her company in the 2016. That was awesome. And still, nothing will ever compare to my first experience of San Diego Gay Pride. In less than 8 hours, I will be on a bus down to San Diego to march with them again. I. CAN. NOT. WAIT. to be reunited with my chosen family again. 

©2019 Eric Franklin Crwo