"Straight Pride."

The back of the shirt featured simple, stick-figured symbols of a man and a woman holding hands.

After several students issued complaints, Chambers informed school officials that his shirt was merely a positive statement about heterosexuality. But the administration, glowing with righteous indignation, ordered the student to keep his shirt in the closet—in a manner of speaking—and off school grounds. Chambers and his parents have since filed a lawsuit against the school district for the violation of his free speech rights.

Do not adjust your set, as there is definitely something wrong with this picture. If gay men and lesbians are free to celebrate their sexual orientation with everything from rainbow wind socks to Pride parades that make the decadence of Mardi Gras look like a Von Trapp family reunion, then surely this kid should be able to wear a shirt that honors his heterosexuality. "Straight Pride" doesn't negate "Gay Pride." In fact, as far as I can tell, both statements mean everyone is getting off in whatever way feels the best—and darned proud of it too, thank you very much.

As for myself, I get off on having sex with guys with goatees, guys who look good in glasses, guys who wear jeans that are faded in all the right places and guys who know how to kiss. But am I proud of that? I'm not ashamed that I suck cock, but is that the same thing as being proud of it?

Shouldn't pride be left to loftier ambitions like graduating from college or becoming a parent, or at least, a very cool uncle or aunt? And if we continue to exploit the concept of gay pride (cue Gloria Gaynor's gay anthem "I Will Survive"), doesn't it just become a brown-washed version of its true self, a sound-bite for commercials and TV sitcoms, a slogan embroidered on a T-shirt?

But here's what really gives me pause: Has the bloated, lavender-tinged monster affectionately known as gay pride swelled to such gigantic proportions that seemingly well-intentioned little heteros like Elliot Chambers feel the need to remind themselves of their sexual orientation by looking down at words printed across their chest?

I'm not suggesting that someone slay the gay pride beast. Let's face it: It's here, it's queer and yes, we've gotten used to it.

"Think of the children! Think of the children," advises my friend Tim, referring to gays and lesbians, regardless of their age, who are just coming to terms with their homosexuality. "Newly hatched gays and lesbians often rely on the sparkling sequined trappings of a foo-foo gay pride parade as a form of positive af-firm-a-tion."

That loud thud you just heard was the sound of me falling over from the weight of an avalanche of memories from—you guessed it—my first pride parade:

In a navy blue polo shirt and cut-off jean shorts, my feet decked out in the (early) eighties requisite boat shoes, I stood by the side of the road as lesbians gunned their motorcycles, drag queens tossed glittering bead-necklaces into the crowd and half-naked boys held hands in public as if it was the most natural act in the universe. As I was alone, I tried to look brave and non-plussed, but I think the look I actually achieved was an unflattering combination of confusion and carefully restrained panic.

I remember I had to take a leak at one point and I quickly located an empty alleyway bordered by brick walls that promised to be more than accommodating. With a quick look over my shoulder, I pulled it out, did my business, and was just tucking in my shirt and zipping up my shorts when a guy with these amazing blonde highlights entered the alley. Slow down the picture to frame-by-frame images and you will see eyes darting to my half-zipped shorts, a smile flash across the stranger's face, me being cruised for sex for the very first time.

But that's not the eureka moment of my first Pride. That comes seconds later when an older gentleman sporting a "I Love My Gay Son" T-shirt turns into the alley. (Doesn't anyone use the Port-O-Lets anymore?!) He pauses for a brief moment, shoots us a knowing, boys-will-be-boys look, followed by a wide, generous smile. Without a word, he makes a quick and polite exit, leaving us in possession of the alley.

I won't pretend that I had this great revelation at that particular moment. My young mind was just happy that the old guy didn't start yelling at us for what was obviously going to happen next; my young body was busy crackling with the exciting possibility of touching another guy's body.

Today, though, when I ponder those moments in the alley, my heart swells with the memory of the first time my gayness—raw and unedited—was on display before a heterosexual. Being confronted for my queerness by a straight man was a fear that burned deep inside me, a hard pellet of bio-hazardous material that at any moment threatened to ignite my core into a meltdown. But this guy, somebody's dad for Christ's sake, practically walked in on me engaging in the biggest gay cliché in the world—back-alley sex—and he didn't even flinch. And I didn't have a meltdown. And, yes, the catalyst for this moment was the dreaded, lavender-tinged gay pride beast.

With all of her rickety floats blaring recycled disco hits, her drag queens with feather boas and melting makeup, her hairy men sporting leather, buttless chaps, it's clear that gay pride is no longer powered by the political upheaval that marked the Stonewall rebellion of the late sixties. Instead, the gay pride celebrations of today are ground zero for a countless series of tiny, little earthquakes that shake the cages of the individual—rather than collective—soul. Now, gay pride is all about the private battles each of us wage against the paralyzing forces of low self-esteem and self-doubt, not only for people just coming out of the closet, but for all of us still looking to quiet that need we have to belong to something greater than ourselves, to be accepted and to be loved. Wasn't it our gay Uncle Walt (Whitman) who once wrote something like "We are all put on this earth to learn to endure the beams of love?" I know it's sometimes hard for me to endure the beams of love, especially when they are packaged in the tacky, Technicolor form of a gay pride parade. But I think Uncle Walt couldn't be more on target here.

It's a twisted sort of irony that a T-shirt emblazoned with the words "Straight Pride" led to the rediscovery of a long-forgotten shirt that said "I Love My Gay Son"—but then again, I think irony is a pretty good friend to have as you make your way through the contradiction-filled terrain of homo and heterosexuality.

Yep, irony will have a place at my side during gay pride this year. Together, we will cruise guys with goatees who look good in glasses; and together, we will sing at the top of our lungs every single time we hear "I Will Survive," blasting from a parade float.

Also by Tony Peregrin

FACE OFF
But what about where that book came from? What does it say about your fellow passenger when he pulls his literary findings out of a blue and white Borders bag as opposed to a green and white bag issued by Barnes & Noble?
(2001-05-31)

OH RIKKI
About a hundred transsexuals, cross-dressers and their friends are at the Rikki Swin Institute for a Sunday morning brunch to commemorate the grand opening of this new transgender facility -- which feels more like an after-church social than a gathering of gender benders.
(2001-03-29)

LAVENDER HAZE
Do the growing number of novels displayed under the lavender-tinged banner of "gay fiction" have what it takes to inspire that pang of emotional identification for a heterosexual readership? Or do most heterosexual readers pass by bookstore shelves marked "gay literature," with bags over their heads to avoid being compromised by a genre that many consider to be too sexual or controversial?
(2001-03-01)

GREAT SEXPECTATIONS
I rushed up to the TV screen to get a closer look, ignoring my friends who were yelling at me to get my perverted ass out of the way. And there, bathed in the blue glow of the screen, I became reacquainted with every nook and cranny of my ex-boyfriend.
(2001-02-15)

COLD COMFORT
(2001-01-18)

BROTHER'S KEEPER
(2000-12-14)

GOLDEN NUGGET
(2000-12-07)

BLOODLETTING
(2000-10-19)

GAY CHICAGO
(2000-09-21)

MANIFEST "DENSITY"
(2000-09-21)

TRUTH ACHE
(2000-08-24)