Last week was LGBT Pride week in the Boston area. ![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
adrian_turtie and I decided to march in as much as possible of the Dyke March Friday evening and, if we weren’t too worn out and if the weather allowed, go to the parade on Saturday. The Dyke March was my priority because it’s more political, and a lot less corporate, than the Pride Parade is these days, for the values of “political” that matter to me, not “how many politicians are going to try to shake my hand?” Conveniently, what I wanted more also occurred first, so I didn’t have to guess whether the less-desired thing would use too many spoons.
We got to Boston Common Friday evening while people were still gathering, and looked around at the assorted tables; I took a “Rise Up, Resist, Repeat” button that a gay legal aid group was giving away. Then we sat down, and listened to the MC give an introduction and play a bit of music. She started with something like “I want to talk about the land we’re on,” which had me expecting her to say something about the people who lived in Massachusetts before European settlement; instead, she talked about Sylvia Rivera and Marsha P. Johnson, the trans women of color who started the Stonewall Riot.
At that point we were sharing a bench with another woman, and chatting with her, which was fun. She said she was trying to go to every Dyke March (meaning every city’s, not every instance), and asked if she could take our picture. We happily said yes, and posed. Other than that, we talked to a bunch of people who were representing different causes, including some unrelated petition carriers and a random tourist who asked me whether gay people can get married in the United States. I told him yes, everywhere in the country now, but Massachusetts was first. (I didn’t grow up here, but sometimes it feels right to boast about this state.)
Last year, we marched almost the entire route, and then I had to lead Adrian into the T station at Park Street because the large number of police car strobes had triggered a seizure. So, this year’s plan was to leave when it got dark enough for the strobes to be a problem.
That turned out to mean we had to leave a few minutes after we started moving, just before we got to the edge of the Common: there were police cars, with strobe lights, lining the march route. I realize they were intended as helpful, but part of me is thinking “the police stopped me from marching in the street.” More seriously, there seem to be more, and sometimes more intense, strobes out there every week. At least some of them are intended as safety measures (e.g., to get people to pay attention to stop signs), but strobes are also a seizure trigger for some people.
So, we grumpily got back on the red line, went to Harvard Square for pho, and then home to Arlington. [continued on next rock.]
adrian_turtie and I decided to march in as much as possible of the Dyke March Friday evening and, if we weren’t too worn out and if the weather allowed, go to the parade on Saturday. The Dyke March was my priority because it’s more political, and a lot less corporate, than the Pride Parade is these days, for the values of “political” that matter to me, not “how many politicians are going to try to shake my hand?” Conveniently, what I wanted more also occurred first, so I didn’t have to guess whether the less-desired thing would use too many spoons.We got to Boston Common Friday evening while people were still gathering, and looked around at the assorted tables; I took a “Rise Up, Resist, Repeat” button that a gay legal aid group was giving away. Then we sat down, and listened to the MC give an introduction and play a bit of music. She started with something like “I want to talk about the land we’re on,” which had me expecting her to say something about the people who lived in Massachusetts before European settlement; instead, she talked about Sylvia Rivera and Marsha P. Johnson, the trans women of color who started the Stonewall Riot.
At that point we were sharing a bench with another woman, and chatting with her, which was fun. She said she was trying to go to every Dyke March (meaning every city’s, not every instance), and asked if she could take our picture. We happily said yes, and posed. Other than that, we talked to a bunch of people who were representing different causes, including some unrelated petition carriers and a random tourist who asked me whether gay people can get married in the United States. I told him yes, everywhere in the country now, but Massachusetts was first. (I didn’t grow up here, but sometimes it feels right to boast about this state.)
Last year, we marched almost the entire route, and then I had to lead Adrian into the T station at Park Street because the large number of police car strobes had triggered a seizure. So, this year’s plan was to leave when it got dark enough for the strobes to be a problem.
That turned out to mean we had to leave a few minutes after we started moving, just before we got to the edge of the Common: there were police cars, with strobe lights, lining the march route. I realize they were intended as helpful, but part of me is thinking “the police stopped me from marching in the street.” More seriously, there seem to be more, and sometimes more intense, strobes out there every week. At least some of them are intended as safety measures (e.g., to get people to pay attention to stop signs), but strobes are also a seizure trigger for some people.
So, we grumpily got back on the red line, went to Harvard Square for pho, and then home to Arlington. [continued on next rock.]
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I can't help but be reminded of a lot of the "cops don't belong at Pride as cops" stuff I've seen recently. (My sworn-sister is a trans WOC and has Strong Opinions.)
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Out of uniform they don't get to bring the flashy, right?
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But, to my knowledge, Boston cops have not tried to participate in Pride like the police of other cities. It's not like they had a float, or even got together a dozen queer police to march with "Boston Strong & Proud" t-shirts.
The police cars we saw at Dyke March were directing traffic. It's the same thing police do at any big event--they block off the street where the march is, so cars don't get in the way. I prefer it when they just put traffic cones or physical barriers in the approaching cross streets, with an officer standing there. Last year they used parked police cars with strobes instead of cones or fencing. In every intersection. And this year they had the parked police cars at the intersections and other parking places.
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It really turned me off when there was a pile-on of non-queer staff asking if they can have pride shirts.
Cyn and I will go to Trans and Dyke march and that's plenty of Pride.
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(would say more but backgroundnoise)
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The cloudy weather would have been fine for Saturday afternoon, and Saturday's bright sunshine with only a few high clouds would have been better for us Friday evening.
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