It is 2014, not just in London, Paris, and New York, but right here in the City of Brotherly Love, too.

And with the close of a yuletide season met by the crisp breath of fresh beginnings, the question of becoming legally gay in America has made me wonder how we embrace this truth right here at home!

For what is “gay”, if it is not masked by feathers and balloons, half naked parades clad in rainbow montage and men badly dressed as women, with backsides the size of stop signs and breasts made to hang and wobble to and fro?  

What are we proud of when we display our pride in festive street parties only slightly more eccentric then the ones the Mummers strut on New Year’s Day?

What message do we share when we shout at the top of our lungs how different we are and how intolerance of that difference is unacceptable, while we with the same fervor fight for “equality”?

Do we see ourselves as equal in the way that Equality Forum celebrates the advancements of members of its body and pushes for laws that protect support and embrace us?  Or still do we view ourselves as a fringe movement that requires the presence of a drag queen and burlesque show to publicly celebrate what and who we are?

When I represent this community, I do it with solidarity in mind. I’m assured in individuals of what it means to be and American, what it means to be a Philadelphian, and what it means to navigate both of the realms of those truths as gay. When I relate those truths to “they” (and you may choose your “they”), there is a sort of shock and disbelief portrayed in disfigurement on their faces because my message of equality is of love, community, hope, freedom, and respect, and it does not include the right to paint city hall in pink glitter or host a “Vogue-ball” on the corner of Broad and Walnut at the Union League.  

Marriage equality, parental rights, social services, health care … here are the hardliner issues that face our community for which we have the express right to expect resolve.  But I’m not sure the way to dispel the ignorance of those who would see us as little more than a colt expression of Pricilla Queen of the Desert is to brand our march for “sameness” with dancing boys on bar counters in rainbow thongs and wings.
Just my two cents…