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It gave us “ Nails, Hair, Hips, Heels” by Todrick Hall. And yet Pride season did offer a gay performance that deserves to last.
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But should the emblems of gayness feel as cheap and disposable as they have this year? Flux and fluidity are very queer. Then, you remember that there’s a difference between giving a performance and putting on an act. Just like that: Making your way around New York can feel lonely, like you’ve been scraped and Windexed, too, and being over the rainbow can mean something altogether different. There’s more to be sold than a show of support. But, in commerce, this is the way of all things. It must feel weird, scrubbing “pride” from your storefront, sending rivulets of it crying down into the sewer. It becomes someone’s job to scrape, peel, erase, hose off, take down, Windex, dismantle and trash the rainbow. The robust commercial performance of pride meets an inevitable conclusion. So to be fair to New York, its Oz is always showing. I cursed it until its swerve onto 40th Street revealed a pair of rainbow flags whipping in the rear, like wings, like afterburn. I was cursing a bleating ambulance on Monday (I know and may God forgive me). And, eventually, even though it didn’t seem like the massive official one really ever would, both ended. That was the Queer Liberation March, which is more fun to say and, among other things, objected to the presence of corporations and cops. It’s a migraine-inducing quandary: Is there such a thing as proper pride? After decades of all kinds of neglect, here was a luxury: Could gay people now have too much support? It became a question so big that it had to be worked out in two separate parades - the enormous, high-energy, emotional, eternal official one (WorldPride NYC) and the rougher, rawer, entirely confrontational, sponsor-free (and not tiny!) protest event that preceded it.
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Does this store’s tiny, odd, rainbow-colored thingamabob painted in the corner of an enormous window mean it’s less supportive than this other place, whose windows are so rainbowed that you can’t even see inside? And does a place with rainbow-nothing mean that nothing gay matters? And does having rainbow anything obviate having to ask that question at all? Is this store doing apathy or neutrality? And is that O.K.? Oh, and does so much consumerist ubiquity mean that what the flag symbolizes is now less political or are those politics just more widely endorsed? Are we being “pink-washed?” In the West Village, a Rockette kick away from the Stonewall Inn, a plain-old pedestrian crosswalk was painted red, orange, yellow, green, blue and purple - not by activists but by the Department of Transportation!īut the glut of performances could render you perplexed. Sometimes flag mania tugged at your heart. In the Flatiron district, the kitchenware shop Fishs Eddy instructed people to “post your pride” and affixed to its windows a zillion rainbowed stickies upon which people had written everything from “Yasss” in big block letters to a concise: “Came out! August 1982.” A Burberry banner evoked Gilbert Baker’s pride flag. Rainbows hanging in storefronts and as part of bank displays, undulating from fire escapes and car antennae. But this year, in queer land, the performance of pride was conducted with a flamboyance that rivals Independence Day. The performance of a queer self doesn’t seem that far from the performance of an American one, especially if you catch the president’s July 4 military pageant or got a glimpse of Nike’s just-canceled sneakers with the Betsy Ross flag. And, in New York City, the pivot from one to the other isn’t much of a pivot at all. July is national pride month - at least on the Fourth.