Pride Uniform

I have skipped Lurkville Pride the past couple of years. But like a fool, I wandered through the celebrations again. That feeling of alienation I complained about has just intensified. Plus there were crowds, and few people were wearing masks and I am a scaredy-cat who does not feel comfortable in crowds even outdoors, so I skedaddled away right quick.

It was just as well. I felt out of place and I looked out of place. Nobody wants the Poors crashing their parties, and I was underdressed. I did not have a T-shirt with a clever slogan. I was not festooned in rainbow accessories — not even a cheap rainbow lei. The latest trend appears to be people wearing their flags as capes (I suppose these people never watched The Incredibles?). Thanks to a meme Sassybear posted I took a quick crash course on pride flags, so I was able to recognise some of the memberships. There were lots of trans flags, of course, but also lots of nonbinary and a surprising number of ace flags too. I did not wear a flag — it is not as if grouchy old incels get a flag (or do they?) — and I doubt I would have been welcomed into the Big Gay Tent if I had.

If nothing else, my wander through Lurkville Pride taught me something: there is a uniform one wears during Pride, and it is a social faux pas not to wear it. I don’t even own rainbow pasties, never mind a full outfit. That’s my fault, of course, and even as a Poor I have enough disposable income to address this. It is also clear that this is some kind of internalized homophobia (“Why does everybody have to be so flamboyant?? Can’t we just be normal?” as if I am in any way normal), and I am already a spectacle in other ways, so doffing rainbow gear and looking even more ridiculous should be no issue. The question is whether I want to bother, and the answer is probably negative. If I want to participate in social gatherings I have to follow social norms, and if I am not willing to do that then I have to stop bellyaching.