Every year, around the end of June, my heart swells with pride. For one day, the city becomes home to the fabulous, the lusty, the loving and the upright justice seeking men, women and "other" that make up the gay-lesbian-bisexual-transgender community of New York. The Gay Pride March is just that - a march where heads are held high, a tear of joy lingers at the corner of some eyes, embraces of solidarity and kisses of delight are thrown to and from the marchers. The crowd pulses with each float that discos by, where it truly is raining men and we are all forever young for one day.

And the lost are remembered, the fight calls are still shouted, the angry fists pump the air and placards shout out demands for basic rights and freedoms. Families march - gay men and lesbians with their children and parents of homosexual walk proudly next to their out child. This is TRUE family values - the loved are mourned, the living celebrated and the whole city becomes a big reunion.

This year, the mood seemed a little subdued but still jubilant. The floats were stopped constantly by police allowing cross-traffic to halt the march. (This writer doesn't remember the same kind of treatment for the Puerto Rican or St. Pat's parades…hmmmm…) There also seemed fewer marchers, but still as many groups as ever. I only saw ONE bisexual group, which was a bit disappointing.

see the rest of the parade here

The Pride Fest afterwards was a fantastic street fair cum concert, with crowds mingling, smooching, laughing and holding on to each other and the night. When the crowd made it's exodus west to the Dance on the pier, I made my weary way home, armed with memories, images and a new vibrating friend…

see the pride march photo gallery here

Melissa Ulto
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