Sunday morning. Walking away from Parkmerced in San
Francisco. Cold. Foggy. Grey. I felt as if my writing haunts -- Trump,
Robertson, Perkins, Coulter -- were melting away as I strode toward something
else. But it wasn't until I hit the top of the escalator that I knew this
Sunday would be the escape of escapes. It had that feeling.
The Pride parade had not started, and as I walked to an
appointed place, I noticed some exclusivity -- areas set aside for corporations.
This one for Genentech.
It seemed odd to cordon off yourself in an event that
stressed diversity and inclusion.
After the traditional "Dykes on Bikes" prelude, the mood
turned somber with the "We are Orlando" contingent. There were smiles through
And tears through the colors.
Color was an art form An expression of everything the parade was supposed to represent this year: justice for all, not just for the LGBTQ community, but for diverse America.
It was a celebration of the sweetness in life amidst the bitterness.
The beauty of the self-assured.
The beauty of brotherhood.
Some of the politicians rode in black-out armored SUVs relaying (but not reinforcing) the fear for safety. While others did not. Nancy Pelosi did not. Gavin Newsom did not. They got the most cheers and applause for their open solidarity.
Of course, Hillary was present in more than spirit
The more energetic corporate entities were there and the feeling was more commercialized than last year.
But because of the color and exuberance, people were unfazed. This Chinese gentleman next to me sank everything in with an intensity beyond ideologies.
Of course, there were souvenirs.
...and people who wore them.
This old geezer taking a selfie in a reflective window eschewed souvenirs. He told me that if I took a picture of him, I'd have to label it "Not bad for 70".
OK. Not bad.
I had several guy hoist me up atop a small column to get better pics of the Civic Center throngs. But some people were taking pictures of me in my leather gear.
At the end, I realized it was almost impossible to relay the sea of humanity (nearly 1 million) having a good time, mourning, determined for justice, still aching for acceptance.
Rev. Dan Vojir is has been writing/blogging on religion and politics for the better part of ten years. A former radio talk show host (Strictly Books " Talk America Radio Network) and book publisher, Dan has connected with some of the most (more...