By: The Queen Father
The ‘Gay Pride Parade’ season has gone. Unless I miscalculated and somehow the Vatican City Gay Pride Parade is about to take to the street with its mix of clergy and posh bankers, it’s all over now… The glitter and confetti have been swept from the streets. The feather boas return to languish in the closet, along with the wigs and polyester dresses with padded bra à la Jessica Rabbit. The sexy cop costume is folded in the drawer with the furry handcuffs and the toy gun. Back to work for tomorrow. Some of you in a suit, others in jeans and shirt, somebody else will instead go back to studying for that looming degree. Good luck by the way… The ‘Gay Pride Parade’ season has gone.
I intentionally distance myself from some aspects of Pride because I do not think they represent me fairly. I do not want to be a traitor to my ‘Cultural Group’, although nowadays ‘Judas’ is ever so popular, thanks to ‘you know who’ (God bless her…), but I’d like to slap some people going to the Parade. They have only one day a year, where they can take to the streets all together and really show something that the world has never seen before and what do they do? They advertise sex and sleaze as if in a Tom of Finland Carnival.
I cannot come to terms with the fact that any Mr Average, chooses such a big day to get out of his Post Office Employee uniform and dress up like a… a…. You tell me: a pair of black vinyl shorts and a dog collar studded with spikes, combat boots and a boyfriend in leather chaps who walks him around on the leash like a dog. Is that your best part Mr?
Is that all you have to say about yourself and your life? No because from what you show, it looks like that’s all you are about. Is this your gay pride? And you are proud of what exactly? I have a nice ass too you know? Even if ever so slightly less firm than it used to be…
Oh it makes me angry. No, not the fact that my butt is heading south. I’m gay too! Actually, to be fair, I am so gay that in my case perhaps it is also infectious and contagious, like Ebola. I married a man and now I have a son. I am gay too, even if I wouldn’t be caught dead dressed up as a vinyl-chewing slut.
I wish that that guy could tell me: how do I educate my son about the decorum and dignity of any individual’s sexuality (straight or gay) with these examples that ‘should’ represent my category? How do I teach him the importance of being master of his own body and respect it when Mr Average walks on all fours, half naked, on a leash, while his partner takes him for walkies down to Pride?
Call me a snob if you like, but to be gay, those folks lack a certain ‘class’ that we all like to pride ourselves for.
I mean, do these folks have REALLY something to say during the Gay Pride or is it just an excuse to show off their cracks, provoke and give to the public EXACTLY what they expect from us gays already?
Some of us are busting their butts trying to convince the world that we are normal families and that we are not the stereotypes always dressed in black leather and studs, and what do these assholes do?
They give us all bad press.
Now, would you put a child in the loving care of someone dressed up as the gimp? Isn’t one of the main qualities of any parent ‘respectability’?
Honestly. Come on now… I am not beating down on anybody with a healthy libido and an ‘imaginative’ sex life, but for fuck’s sake! Keep it to the bedroom! I don’t need to see you half naked down the street. It doesn’t shock me…
And I’ve seen it all, like most of you, but it really pisses me off.
Do not tell me that I sound like Mother Teresa because then you’d really get me angry, but I say, if you want to dress up as an S&M whore and show off in the worst possible taste on the parade’s floats to spite the Pope (more than legitimately…), or give a stroke to your father for punching your face to a pulp upon discovering that you are gay, I understand. There is a lot of anger and desire for revenge. But have you nothing else to say? Nothing else to show?
For once, I would not complain against all those people who say that the Gay Pride is an undignified carnival. Certainly it seems to be just that, to the detriment of its core-message.
The world thinks that we gay men are promiscuous beings par excellence, that we go around dressed like a cartoon by Tom of Finland and that we are obsessed with sex. Obviously these are stereotypes that are funny and false.
Nothing you would think by looking at some elements in the Gay Pride Parade. It’s also true that not everybody engages in such displays of ‘controversy’, but the ones that do, just end up giving the rest of us a bad image. This is a hard FACT!
The world doesn’t give a shit about how you like to ‘spice it up’ in the bedroom; moreover, it’s nothing our heterosexual counterparts haven’t done already. But there is a place for such things and it’s not in the streets. You get me?
You say I’m bigoted? Maybe yes, a little bit, I am Italian after all, but I am convinced that the worst enemy of the gay community, sometimes it’s the gays themselves, and when there is an opportunity to make a difference,
we should have the decency to put our shirts (and pants) back on and show all the dignity that, sadly, we are not attributed. After all, even for me it’s hard to take seriously someone who wants to talk to me about equality and political rights and tolerance whilst, on all fours, he is trying to lick my shoes. Certain demands deserve a different kind of composure. Ok, now I’m going to take my curlers off ‘cause they’ve given me a migraine.
Let me clarify that I was not possessed by the spirit of Rev. Phelps. I had a chat with my mum and, talking about the ‘Gay Pride’, she said “What a load of crap… But you guys (meaning me and my husband) are not like them… Why all those beautiful boys dress like this? It’s so crude… Do they usually do this?” “Mom, I don’t know …. Of course not … ” “And why choose such an important day for many people to give such show? If there ever was a march for Housewives Rights, I wouldn’t get my tits out … I would have far too much to say…” Put a patch on it.
The Queen Father’s real name is Marco Platti. He is a 36 year old Italian guy with a fashion background. He married his partner of 11 years, Steven, in 2004 and since becoming a dad in 2009, he ditched his Gucci suit in favour of a spew-covered tracksuit. He is now a writer, blogger and a stay-at-home parent.
Find his award-winning blog on www.thequeenfather.com