‘Clever’ is how I would describe Graham’s letter (SSO 995). He suggests having another group marching after the police in the parade with slogans such as ‘Know Your Rights’ and ‘Stop Illegal Police Searches’.
I want people in the parade who genuinely work tirelessly for us, at times with great personal cost. People such as former High Court justice Michael Kirby, who gave such a sterling speech at the 2002 Sydney Gay Games. Then there are those who made great efforts in the 1960s and ’70s and others who put themselves on a roster to attend Parliament House in 1984 to successfully achieve law reform. And just as important are groups such as PFLAG, who have long been supporters.
Credit and gratitude need to be given where it is due, rather than to the undeserving who pay us lip service.
Often we hear how the bars and clubs are changing or suffering due to patron numbers dropping or because the clientele has changed.
Maybe it hasn’t changed that much, maybe they’re the ones still queuing out the front while security select the customers they want out of the line.
We visit Palms almost weekly yet were queued up out front for 45 minutes the other night when we watched 17 people get in before us, most of whom weren’t even queuing and they did not have pass-outs from being in previously.
You don’t see queuing out the front of many other bars these days as they simply don’t play the same old fun music we all love.
Great to hear Caesar’s is happening again, and eventually the Imperial. I hope they stick to the original formula they had and, like Palms, have the crowds flooding in. Has everyone forgotten the music from the ’90s and Stock, Aitken and Waterman that we all scream along too?
There’s just not enough handbags on the dancefloors these days.
Queer in the closet
Why is it so hard for me to come out? I live in a townhouse I can’t afford. I Wear vintage RayBans indoors and have a swagger to rival Beyonce’s.
When it comes to the question, “Are you gay?” I laugh it off and quickly change the subject. The fear of judgement takes over and I bottle it all up, again.
I want to curl up and cry but I can’t, I need to but I can’t. Sometimes I feel emotionless because I push any sort of affection away. If someone gets too close, gay or straight, I will end it so my feelings don’t take control. So I don’t fall.
I have told a couple of people I trusted, thinking it was going to get easier. Instantly they changed and now I am their gay friend. I used to be M*****, now I am defined by where I want to stick my penis. Why does my sexuality suddenly represent who I am?
— Name withheld