By Jonathan O’Connor
When fellow students told me that Atlanta celebrated Pride Weekend in October, I was a little surprised. I had always known Pride to be a summer event in New York City, but I have come to accept that Atlanta likes doing things in a slightly different way. The weekend was filled with the typical Pride-style events. The gay community could be seen all across Piedmont Park where there was a festival of sorts, in the streets, bars and restaurants of Midtown and at the Pride Parade on Sunday.
The first event I checked out was the festival at Piedmont Park. There were so many people that it was difficult to walk. Although most festivals use some combination of tents, food and entertainment, this gay festival brought its own flair. I think the most surprising thing was just how diverse everything was. One minute, I walked by a free HIV testing tent right next door to a tent passing out free subscriptions to adult websites. When I walked a couple more feet, I ran into some kind of dancing Christian rock group spreading a message of acceptance to the community. When I looked past them, I saw pairs of girls and boys in pasties and briefs. For someone who had never been to a Pride Weekend before, this was quite an overload.
There was one thing, however, that stood out above all else. Although there were all these different things going on at the same time, there seemed to be a sense of acceptance among festival-goers. It was as if, in unison, we had all recognized that everything around us was in some way a part of the community we live in. This isn’t to say that we all partake in each aspect of the community, but in a strange way, it was comforting to see it all out there.
That evening, I went to Einstein’s for dinner where the gay-inspired weekend continued. It was amazing to see how many same-sex couples were out and about. Up until Pride Weekend, I think I had seen two or three same-sex couples holding hands in public, but this evening increased that number tenfold. Although the group I was with had planned on going to Blake’s, a popular gay bar in Midtown, I was relieved when they said they were too tired to go.
When I got back to my residence hall I crawled into bed and set my alarm for the parade the next day. It shouldn’t have surprised me that I missed the parade on Sunday considering how tired I was, but I think that Saturday had taken a lot out of me. It was my first Pride Weekend and I hadn’t done any mental of physical preparation for the events that ensued. Some may say it’s all about pacing, but I think I would really need some kind of training to get myself in Pride-ready shape. It definitely is not easy keeping yourself at 100 percent with all the events going on.
Sitting in my bed during the parade I thought about what I was missing. I imagined everyone I had come across in Atlanta in one location cheering while others booed in protest. I thought about how I would have liked to be there, with the cheerful people, but I didn’t need to be. I understood what the weekend was about, and I was proud to have been a part of it.