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Somewhat Swooned
Sister Dottie S. Dixon (Charles Frost)
I'm a parade watcher, not a parade marcher. However the first Pride parade I actually mini-marched in was the New York City Pride many years ago. I was in the Big Apple on a June theater tour, and it was Pride weekend, so I went to watch the parade on South Central Park Avenue. When the Harley leather bikers drove by, I four-finger whistled, and one of them motioned for me to sit on the back of his Harley. The spontaneous part of me (which is, oh, about 10 percent) took the chance to grab on to a hot biker, and I hopped on. I rode in the parade down Fifth Avenue for about 10 blocks, then got off. He gave me an unexpected hard kiss on the lips, and I somewhat swooned and melted back into the crowd. My time of being a Son of Anarchy lasted for 15 minutes. Fast-forward to Utah Pride Parade 2010: My first official march was actually a ride in a convertible, when Sister Dottie S. Dixon was Grand Marshal in 2010. It was an exhilarating but exhausting weekend of seven outfit changes, a production team of six, and eight appearances, including the big parade. Constant running! It was a fun parade, full of all of Sister Dottie's themes: love, acceptance, anti-bullying and family preservation. There were fond memories of thousands of loving people and friends. It was at the beginning of our current big shift. Hmm ... a realization and a-just-right-now admission: I guess I ride in parades. Maybe that's why I love Downton Abbey?
Fundamentally Changed My Perspective
Rusty A.
My first experience at Salt Lake City's Utah Pride Parade was just a few years ago. In the past, I had always found reasons to be elsewhere during Pride. I thought the occasion was somewhat antiquated and unnecessary. Certainly in modern times, we wouldn't need to stand in public or march down boulevards to declare our sexuality. What I discovered fundamentally changed my perspective. The crowds of families, children, moms pushing strollers and Mormons marching in solidarity with their LGBTQ friends completely changed my perspective. I knew in those moments what it meant to be a part of a community. Seeing people standing up for their dignity and finding their place in our culture left an indelible mark on my heart and reminded me that we are nothing as individuals without others to share those experiences with.
We Can Do This
Cristy Gleave
It was 2001, and the Utah Legislature had just passed House Bill 103 into a law, which made it impossible for families like mine to adopt children. I remember creating fliers to hand out along the parade route that promoted overturning the awful law, and I handed one to my friend, Bruce Bastian. He said "Cristy, they will never overturn this." I was so naive and passionate in believing that I could get it overturned. I remember saying to Bruce, "You are wrong. We can do this." He was way smarter than I in regard to this issue. But all I have to say to Bruce now is: "We did it!" Only 14 years later.
We Took Our Lives in Our Hands
Kara Cope
My first Pride was when it was held at Sunnyside Park back in 1986. My bestie, Jon, had a booth there for personal training. I was his example of what some hard workouts can do for a body. He actually made some new clients from his exposure at Pride. In those days, we took our lives in our hands celebrating our diversity. There was no parade and no police protection, and there were protesters on the sidelines. I'm proud of how Salt Lake City has grown to embrace diversity and the support for our gay brothers and sisters in our community. I still tear up when I attend the yearly Pride parade.
I Wasn't on Some Island by Myself
Ryan Eborn
My first experience at Salt Lake City's Utah Pride Parade was walking with the Cahoots float some 17 years ago. I had only recently come out after moving to Salt Lake City and felt very uncomfortable in my own skin. I had made a few good friends, and one weekend, they told me that we'd be going to Pride and that it would be the most fun I'd ever had. In those days—before social media and widespread news coverage—I had no idea what to expect. And I thought sure that a gay Pride parade in Utah was probably illegal. I was more than a little surprised by the size of this event, one I'd never heard anything about. So many people everywhere who were happy and having fun—and, most of all, just like me. The best part of this experience was learning that I wasn't on some island by myself. Each step I took in the parade that day was a step closer to feeling OK about my life and where I would go.
Hard Not to Have a Good Time
Andrew Bornstein
My first Utah Pride experience was one big party! Our friends knew some people who had an office nearby, so we pre-gamed there, then stopped by the Tavernacle for a few whiskey shots. The parade itself was wonderful. The floats clearly had lots of time and energy put into them. The people-watching was my favorite part; seeing how people express themselves when they feel comfortable putting it all out there makes for a great atmosphere. The floats with music and scantily clad people dancing and having a blast is infectious. It's hard not to have a good time! I noted a lot of corporations supporting the event and even marching themselves, which was cool. After the parade, we walked over to a house party for some more drinks and met a lot of interesting, like-minded people. We wrapped the day up at the festival, where we met up with one of our gay friends' LDS parents, who are very supportive of their son; it was really cool to see. My first Pride was a great time, and I have been back every year since.
Marching for Our Rights as Parents
Ann Bolland & Gina Herrera
Our first Utah Pride march was June 2009. Years prior, we were simply supporters of the march, cheering on the representatives of our diverse community, but after Gina lost her daughter, Maddie, due to the Jones vs. Barlow decision, it was time to support Equality Utah and bring visibility to the cause. We proudly joined this group in marching for our rights as parents, whether biological or families of choice. I should note that we joined Equality Utah in 2010, our son Jameson's first Utah Pride march!
My True Coming Out
Kate S.
I was sweating and my heart was beating walking down State Street as one of 14 people carrying the largest Leather Pride flag in the United States as part of Salt Lake City's Pride Parade. I was more scared to be seen here in this moment than I had ever been to be seen at Pride. It was scarier, because it said something about me that I was afraid of people knowing. I enjoy pain and submission. I tried to hold my head up because it was Pride, after all. I am not really a lesbian. I am a queer leather boi. Finding that about myself seemed to be the true revolution, and this time, marching in this parade, was my true coming out.
A Clever Expression of Protest
Bub Horne
This is a sensitive issue for poor old Bub, because I'm one of those macho-asshole chefs, who was an equal-opportunity abuser for years before some sensitivity slowly sank into my wildly liberal but thick head: "Chronically single" people have a weird relationship with sexual freedom—that's how I thought. The first time I marched in the parade? Well, gee, I haven't yet! In my defense, I've been a working single parent for the past 10 or more years and worked restaurant hours for 20 years before that. I don't "do" parades—I just don't. But I see the "Rainbow Parade" as something more than just a parade. It's something special, a really clever expression of protest, undressed-up, as a celebration. Over time, God knows it's been too long, I have come to understand that the protest is a seriously profound civil-rights issue, and I'm embarrassed it's taken me so long to see that. The Rainbow Parade is a gentle, artistic and very clever way to celebrate freedom that must be fought for—perhaps as effective a protest as has ever been fought in American history. I confess, it's been a misunderstanding for me, and it's hard to explain, I thought this was all about sex—it's not at all! This is about freedom and love. This year, I will join in to celebrate what I feel is significant progress as a civil-rights movement, because I do "feel" the love, and the freedom!
Visibly Supporting Each Other
Neva Wagner
My first experience with the Pride parade wasn't very long ago. Even though I'm a member of the LGBTQ community, I was someone who actively sought to avoid attending or participating in Pride parades, due to stigma and stereotypes that I had heard about them. In 2014, my wife convinced me to get up early with her and a friend, stake out a good spot, and watch Salt Lake City's Pride parade. As the first few entries passed, I began seeing friends marching with different organizations. Eventually, my church, Wasatch Presbyterian, passed and my fantastic church family convinced my wife, friend and I to march with them. Today, I look back and can say that my prejudices about Pride parades were absolutely incorrect. A Pride parade isn't an "us vs. them," or a hypersexualized marketing scheme, as I had erroneously believed. Rather, it is a couple hours where allies and LGBTQ folk come together in a visible way to support each other, embrace our identities and remind the world that we are here.
Family Bonds of Respect and Joy
Greg & Angela Green
Angela and I brought our three kids to walk in the 2010 Pride parade as part of the Corroon/Allen gubernatorial campaign. Our group walked in front of Queer Utah Aquatic Club in the parade, so we gravitated to the back of our group to join in their dancing and music. Our youngest daughter has epilepsy and a mild left-side paralysis from an in-utero stroke, and it's one of the reasons that we were there that day. We have always looked for ways to be engaged and to share stories that grow empathy and understanding. The Pride event is a celebration about culture and community that embraces everyone. We wanted our family to be a part of an event whose message promoted positive perceptions about who we are. As Richard Bach wrote, "The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's lives. Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof."
"Just Married"
Bella Hall
In 2011, after moving to Utah from liberal Oregon, I participated in my first Utah Pride Parade in Salt Lake City. I rode proudly in the passenger seat of a fancy convertible with my handsome, soon-to-be "husbutch," Babs De Lay, at the wheel. We had special signs made for the sides of the vehicle that said something like "Engaged—but can't legally marry in Utah!" As we drove gaily forward, we waved madly and were cheered on by all of the parade goers. At the time, it was fantastic. Fast-forward to a quiet winter day in 2013, when we received news of a most unexpected Supreme Court decision. We raced to the courthouse and were legally married on that fateful day. In 2014's Pride Parade, we donned our white ensembles and marched with the "Just Married" contingent along with so many of the other happy couples. It was truly magical.
Intense & Intoxicating
Michael Aaron, QSaltLake editor/publisher
When Connell O'Donovan announced the first gay march from the Utah Capitol and past Temple Square, there was no doubt in my mind I'd make the trek. Just a few years before, I had scraped every nickel from every crevice to attend the March on Washington for Lesbian and Gay Rights. The intensity of what you feel when surrounded by hundreds of thousands of people just like you—people who were hard to find growing up—is intoxicating. And while the numbers of this first march in Utah were only in the hundreds, these were a few hundred of my friends, my people. The feeling as you are walking and laughing and chanting and waving at cars and cat-calling bewildered onlookers on our own ground is intense. It is also intoxicating. In the end, although very few people were on the sidelines to stand witness, we celebrated another accomplishment, another milestone. In all things, there is a first, and we were part of that first. And Utah was changed ever-so-slightly one more time.
