There are only two days left in the month of May. That’s only two days until Pride month if you live by the queer calendar. June is Pride month or Pride season if you will. To many who identify as LGBTQ+ it is license to celebrate with kick ass parties, festivals, and bar bashes. Some would paint a pretty picture and have us believe that the season swells with love, inclusivity, and a glittery rainbow of commonality between allies and community. Well, I am here to tell you that that depends on whom you ask.
There is inherent power in telling a story. It matters not if the story is good or bad, fiction or a someone’s living truth. What matters to many is the outcome – namely how the reader or listener feels or responds after absorbing the words. What matters to me mostly is how a story is told. Therein lies the truest command of a teller of tales.
We are at the
end of another year and another decade. It’s that week leading up to the start
of a new year. It’s that week when many take stock of what they’d planned to
accomplish, what they actually accomplished, and what will roll over to the new
list of plans likely to never be crossed off or the boxes ticked.
I had never met Nancy Novak. I’d heard her name, but our paths had never crossed. She was working at Coca-Cola. Novak’s Bar & Grill didn’t exist. Nancy was throwing parties for other people and serving drinks to friends in her modest house in North St. Louis across a short stand-alone bar too short to lie on for body shots. Although, drunken attempts were likely made by the Gayborhood/Mich Light football folks. If it could be done, they were the ones to do it!
over with…or so I thought. As if it wasn’t enough for everyone to fight nearly
the entire month of June – in the name of community and togetherness, mind you;
it seems that waking to the re-hashing of recent events is the way many are
choosing to start off July.
Fine, I’m game.
Here goes. I have just a few thoughts I am going to share about our 2019 Pride
season. Take from them as is your will to do.