Austin360 blogs > Out & About > Archives > 2010 > June > 05 > Entry
Queer Bomb at 501 Studios
A carnival mood attended the Queer Bomb assembly at 501 Studios on Friday. An hour before the alternative procession began, folks in costume gathered inside and nearby the versatile facility at Brushy and East Fifth streets. Familiar themes — modified uniforms, theatrical drag, all sorts of gender bending — proliferated. Freshest to me were women tufted with fur who formed “Clan of the Cave Queer.”
Caitlin Lowell, Tom Cat and R. Hyena
By 9 p.m., at least 200 revelers were psyched for the pride procession. Everyone I spoke to — gay, straight and otherwise — shared a feeling of playfulness and warmth. It made one, well, proud, of Austin, that so many tribes would engage in such public joy. City Council Member Randi Shade honorably read a proclamation from Mayor Lee Leffingwell dubbing June 4, 2010 Queer Bomb Day (only in Austin!).
Not sure if my notes are accurate on these IDs. Best not to guess.
Pride shows many faces, and some of the speech-making exhibited its less admirable facets. Speakers drifted into contradiction (We are all about love, except when we are constantly dinging the people we hate in our own community and what they do.); or ahistorical conclusions (contrary to the narrowed definitions shouted from the platform, fairly ordinary-looking doctors, lawyers, teachers and the like also contributed mightily to the early gay movement and marched in the earliest protests. I know. I was there. I was one of those teachers. The documentary “Before Stonewall” deserves a look-see.)
Erin Gentry and Erica Nix
Time changes one’s perspective, too. Back then, we faced squadrons of regimented riot police who blocked our paths. Last night, Austin peace officers on bicycles and motorcycles led the gentle way. Decades ago, I could have been lost my teaching candidacy when my picture appeared on the front page of the Houston daily newspaper as part of march coverage. (I didn’t: Then as now, I take a terrible picture.) At least in Central Texas, I hope those kinds of imminent threats to life, love or pursuit of happiness are waning.
Rhetorical quibbles and sharpened memories didn’t distract from the sheer fun of Queer Bomb and the extravagant feeling of good will I experienced personally on Friday. I followed the march as it turned onto East Sixth Street, but didn’t go far. Two fatigued twentysomethings smiled at me conspiratorially when we recognized our mutual bailings: “Marches are for 19-year-olds,” they joked. On such a hot evening, they, and I hope, I can be excused for simply wishing the procession well.
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