After washing my face 4 times the night after NYC Pride and once again the following morning I was finally able to get all of the green eye shadow, the fake feather lashes, and red glitter that would make Dorothy as green as the Wicked Witch of the West with envy. My rainbow painted finger nails are slowly chipping away in wonderfully ironic “who gives a fuck” lesbian chick and my toesies are still rockin’ their PRIDE. I’m back to work, toiling away, and getting hit on by men and it made me wonder-Where Did All the Homos Go?
Clearly, we’re every where it’s just that we don’t see each other as much after Pride. I mean, during Pride it feels like the entire city is LGBTQ. I took the train home at 2AM on Sunday night a little nervous because of my crazy make up, short shorts, Dykes on Bike-Cycles T-Shirt and rainbow painted nails. Just the day before in broad daylight a woman on 2nd Ave called me a “Faggot-ass mother fucker” so I was sure that I was going to get harassed on the train. Instead Latina and black gays and lesbians piled on the train with me at West Fourth and rode all the way to my stop in very West Indian Brooklyn with their rainbow flags, holding hands without a timid or watchful glance. The next day walking down the street No Homos, and I’m not quoting Kanye here. I literally saw zero visible homos.
I am aware that everyday is not appropriate for men to walk around bare-chested with glitter and feathers but for the whole of the weekend there’s such a wonderful feeling of community. Whether or not you’re at a party you are guaranteed to see at least 5 same-sex couples in about an hour. On the train, walking down the street, riding bikes. The out and proud t-shirts are abundant, the smiles come easily, and it’s as if we can finally live our lives like normal people because we are normal people. It saddens me that out of the entire year for only one weekend we can feel comfortable being ourselves.
Mirs and I walk down the street holding hands often but it’s interesting when we drop hands. We can take a turn down an unfamilair street or just as we’re about to board a train, or walking through a neighborhood that’s not our own we stop being girlfriend and just walk as “friends” until we’ve sussed out the situation and assured ourselves that it’s ok. I know a guy who used to hold his boyfriend’s hand on the L train until they got to a certain stop. After that stop they’d keep their hands on their individual laps and walk side-by-side until they arrived home…
On a more cheerful note, why don’t more Dykes get dolled up for Pride!? I mean, come on, ladies! I had an amazing response from gay men all day about my “fabulous, fierce, amazing, hot, make up I was werkin’ ” It didn’t have the same affect as it could have had I decided to ride my bike with a dress and heels on but it was pretty slammin’ if I do say so myself. Thing is, it was So. Much. Fun. Besides Halloween, where straight girls dress up like hookers and get all dolled up, when else is it appropriate to wear outlandishly festive make up? Never. Ladies, no Lesbians, come on. Whether you identify as Femme or not for one day, can’t we out do the boys?