My Gay Day

A few weeks ago, I attended a gay pride parade. 


So is there anything that I should, you know, come out (as it were) and say?


Nope! Still straight!


No, I am NOT in denial. Yes, I have gone on record for being a fan of ABBA and musical theater but I still love women.


And I love women for the same reason I love chicken: for their breasts and thighs. 


No, I was in attendance of this gay pride event in my role as an "ally". My daughter is gay. I'm not saying we have similar tastes in women but she really likes chicken.  


Apparently, I get the designation of "ally" by not freaking out that my little girl is not so little and likes girls. This is not a given with a lot of parents out there in the world but hey, as my good buddy* Lin-Manuel Miranda once said, "Love is love is love is love." 



*No, to be honest, Lin-Manuel Miranda is not my good buddy. But he would be if he had a chance to know me. So that counts, right? 


So I'm OK with this. At the very least, she won't get knocked up before high school graduation.


So there I was at a gay pride parade.


If I was uncomfortable, it was not because of high levels of gayness surrounding me. Nope, just don't like crowds. And boy was there a crowd, lining up on each side of a street for several blocks in downtown Winston-Salem.


So I don't like crowds but at least I was stuck in a nice one. Everyone round me exuded such joy and happiness. At the risk of sounding schmaltzy, love was everywhere.


OK, not everywhere. There was a small pocket where love and happiness and joy were missing.


The Christian protestors showed up.


Let me rephrase that. 

The "Christian" protestors showed up.


There were maybe a half dozen people with scowling faces while carry signs emblazoned with slogans of hate. There was no love there. I've never seen more joyless people in my life.


A drag queen on the parade bandstand (who looked pretty good, I must say) laughed and waved at the protestors. Then she told the assembled crowd to ignore them. Being ignored, that's what bugs them the most.


Still, I wished I had the courage to face up to one of these hate spewing, fear mongering mockeries of Christ to ask one question.


"Why is your God so small?"  


My God is big, defying the limits of space and time and certainly past the poor, paltry perceptions of my very limited mortal view. If you accept that God is real and you accept that God knows love because he sent his son to die for us, all of us, why do you put limits on that love? How can you define that love by the constraints of our finite mortal existence and say that is an infinite immortal God's will?


"Why is your God so small?"  


At that point, the protestors would drop their signs and avert their eyes from me. "His words! They burn! They BUUUURRNNN!!!!" And then they would run away as I am cheered by a throng of happy, joyful, loving gayness.  I would be the biggest straight icon of gay people since Lin-Manuel Miranda.


OK, this is getting silly.


The parade in many ways was ordinary like any town or small city might have. A couple of police cars, a fire truck, convertibles bearing elected officials, some minor local celebrities. There were some floats that were bold, colorful and imaginative that proclaimed, "Oh hell yeah! This parade is GAY! And proud!" There were groups walking the parade route behind banners for local businesses, corporations and churches.


Yes, churches. Including even a Baptist church.


They get it. The way of Christ is to love, not hate or judge or curse. If Jesus had appeared on that street, he would not be with the protestors. He would not take up a sign with hateful slogans. No, he would be on the grand stand stage with the drag queen.


Taking the mike, Jesus would address the crowd.


"Hey, y'all loving one another?"


The crowd cheers.


"All right! Remember, love everybody!"


Jesus would vanish and reappear before the protestors to add, "Hash tag, no exceptions!" 


Then Jesus vanishes*. 


*Yes, he would actually say the words "hash tag". 


It was a lovely day for a parade. I'm proud of my daughter for not being afraid of who she is. I'm proud of her going to this parade to show solidarity with this community. I'm proud of her for...


I'm just proud of her, okay? 


So that was my gay day.


That night, I went to a country music concert.


More on that later.