It Only Takes a Few

As I woke up for my first day in Antwerp, Belgium, I reflected on the fullness of my time in Amsterdam. I took part in a wide variety of events, some by myself, some with my friend, Chelsea, and some with new friends that I made along the way. For every event, there was a feeling of uncertainty in how I would engage and participate. However, I could see the impact of being part of a group. Whenever I recognized a friendly face from a previous event, I would be able to lean more heavily into Pride. At the same time, I did notice a few other people who came there as individuals and, in their pure authenticity, they helped to shape the events. As people still trickled in, one person would dance to the music with their rainbow hula hoop. Slowly, people turned from spectators to dancers themselves. It only takes a few brave weirdos to set an example for others to live into their queer identity.

          I tried to reflect this theme through my outfits. I noticed that the Pride in Amsterdam had many more people in street clothes than in America. I assume that it is because queer identity is so strongly normalized in Amsterdam and the protest aspect of Pride can grow to encompass more intricate and intersectional issues rather than just “let us exist.” However, I would still wear my rainbow kilt and the mask I created for the trip. So many people during the street parties and the parade would ask to take my picture, or ask someone to take their picture with me and I felt fully included and appreciated in my full identity. Like in any space, there is still an underlying demand to reflect a certain body image. However, the organization of the events focused heavily on elevating fat body types and older queer voices and women and trans representation as well as non-white perfomers. Drag was a lot more wild than simply trying to look like a different gender. An intentional effort was made to decenter Pride from the image of a thin or muscular white cis gay man.

          On the second day, I was able to see some more of the continuing issues of Pride. I noticed the piles of trash on the street more often and I could see the difference in how queer people were able to have fun when they came in a group versus the longing for community that those who come as individuals are searching for. Pride is something that is made for community. It is very difficult to enjoy on your own and I noticed a difference between the events that I attended with Chelsea and the events that I attended on my own. As someone that has struggled to find belonging and connection in the past, Pride is a place where loneliness can be magnified, and feelings of rejection come to the surface as you watch the couples and groups swirl around you. As a performer, being on stage and in front of a crowd is easy. You are a spectacle, and you are celebrated, especially at Pride. However, when you are just part of the crowd, you don’t know who to talk to, who will celebrate you as a person in community rather than simply a spectacle to observe.

          I found that both of these days truly reflected the fullness of Pride. I could perceive a more realistic and holistic view of Pride with all the lovely acceptance as well as the need to still work to achieve full community. It is important how we embrace spectacle and celebration in order to highlight justice issues. However, our community is also defined by how we interact with one another in the everyday. In those moments where I felt stationed on the sidelines, Pride was defined by those who did strike up conversations, who made me feel like less of a stranger in a strange land. This combination of community and celebration could be seen in the Amsterdam Pride Parade at the end of our stay.

          The Amsterdam parade is unlike any other in that it takes place on water. A stream of boats float down the canal as crowds gather along the riverwalk, even watching from balconies or climbing high to see the beauty of the floats. The parade started off slow, beginning with a gentle opera singer that turned the noisy crowds silent. From there, the parade erupted into confetti canons and flying performers on water jets. The floats were intentional in drawing attention to the marginalized voices: the trans community, those who are HIV+, the leather and kink community, as well as justice efforts such as Amnesty International. Although we were at the opposite end of the parade route, the Amsterdam community staged a demonstration in support of Palestine and standing against the genocide. In this demonstration, many participants jumped into the canal to pause the parade, much like queer voices did at Chicago Pride. Throughout our week, there were Palestinian demonstrations and educational setups. The intersectionality became central to the trip as the many Muslim voices of Amsterdam engaged in Pride activities and many queer voices elevated the mantra of “No Pride in Genocide.” It was clear that Pride still found its roots in justice and activism. The community was not afraid to call out injustice and oppression and Amsterdam reflected the legacy of Stonewall through their refusal to ignore injustice for the sake of celebration. It was this combination of anger and joy and community that made Amsterdam Pride a beacon of hope for the queer community.