Thousands marched at the Pride Parade in Portland on Sunday to celebrate the progress the LGBTQ + community has made, but also to highlight the challenges that remain.
“While people may think we’re in the 21st century and we’ve moved on, it’s even more important today to go out and show our pride,” said Babylon Brooks, Levi Carpenter’s drag character.
Babylon Brooks, who participated in the parade with the Sweethearts of Portland charity, cited concerns about anti-gay and anti-trans bills that had been introduced in the Midwest and South, and the alleged failed attempt. of white nationalists to interrupt a Pride event. north of Idaho earlier this month.
“No matter how hard you try to legislate against us, no matter how hard you try to ban our existence, we are still here,” Babylon Brooks said. “We’re not going anywhere.”
With the roar of Dykes on Bikes motorcycles in front, the parade began at 11 a.m.
Rainbow-clad protesters, including drag queens, cyclists, military veterans, religious groups, gangs and choirs, firefighters, health care providers, horse trainers and corporate employees, marched out of the city’s old town neighborhood. starting outside of Pride Northwest’s “Never.” Look Away ”mural along Northwest Couch Street to Tom McCall Waterfront Park for more than two hours.
Debra Porta, executive director of the nonprofit organization Pride Northwest, said the parade route was changed to highlight the mural, which features eight faces of national and local people who have actively supported the LGBTQ + community. from national transgender rights advocate and actress Angelica Ross to retired Oregon. Supreme Court Judge Lynn Nakamoto.
Porta was glad to return to the parade after a two-year hiatus due to the pandemic.
“Isolation is real to our community, so there’s nothing that goes beyond the energy, the atmosphere, of being in person,” Porta said. “Our strength in numbers reminds us that we are not alone.”
Bolivia Carmichaels, the drag character of Daniel P. Elliott who has entertained the public throughout the Portland area since 1994, was the Grand Marshal of the parade.
After hosting a party on Saturday night at the CC Slaughters nightclub and lounge, Bolivia Carmichaels wore a pink sequin dress and cheered on the other participants in the parade on Sunday. During the height of the pandemic, Carmichaels hosted free weekly virtual shows, traveling performances, and even a “Drag-Thru” takeaway line.
“Words can’t begin to express the love I have for our city and our community,” Carmichaels said. “The goal of my life has been to ensure that everyone is included, recognized, supported and loved by their true selves. This parade today, and the festivities throughout the city are our way of celebrating our individuality as well as our strength as a community ”.
A crowd of at least three depths lined up along the route, with some showing up more than two hours earlier to get privileged views.
Rex Daw, 62, of Portland, sat in a chair along Northwest Couch on Second Avenue, reading a book at 9 a.m., waiting for the parade to begin two hours later. He said he came to cheer on his grandchildren, who were leaving with a father, a Macy’s employee. “The gay community needs all the support we can give them,” Daw said.
Lannie Kali sat in a grass chair on Couch Street next to her partner Maria Kali as her 13-year-old daughter Dania sat on the sidewalk in front of them.
“This is our national holiday,” Lannie Kali said. “We are lesbian mothers and we have a bisexual daughter and a gay son.”
She said she was concerned about the arrests of white nationalist members accused of attempting to mutiny at the Pride Parade in Coeur D’Alene, Idaho, earlier this month. “It’s even more important to be here,” Lannie Kali said. “It’s important for young people to see people like us.”
“I grew up going to Pride,” Dania added.
Protesters and those in attendance at the parade wore rainbow-colored tutus, feather boas, socks, masks, hats and shoes.
Carl and Alison Richter’s hairless dog on the Chinese crest wore a mini rainbow-colored cowboy hat, a rainbow-colored coat, and a long rainbow-colored tie. while standing in a folding beach chair “Tommy Bahamas”, waiting for the parade to begin.
Kat Jambor, co-owner of the Once Upon a Rescue queer horse rescue program in Damascus, Oregon, painted a horse called Arrow red, white, and blue before driving her through the parade.
With so much trauma experienced by people in the queer community, Once Upon a Rescue works to connect people with horses in a therapeutic way to help build self-confidence, Jambor said.
Some protesters carried signs that said, “Trans people belong to sports,” “Proud mother of a bicycle dike,” and “Love is love.” A group handed out condoms to adults in party bags.
Tyree Elliott used to see the parade, but this year she went there with colleagues from the Beaverton marijuana store called Green Mart. “As a black and LGBTQ guy, this place feels like home, it feels like a family,” he said of his company, where he has worked for about eight months.
Rev. Nathan Meckley of the Metropolitan Community Church said members of the queer church have been marching to the Pride Parade since 1976. “It’s so important that gays, lesbians, and transgender people understand that God loves us. and God created us, just as we are. We are here to tell them that they are God’s beloved children. “
Well-known faces, including U.S. Rep. Earl Blumenauer, U.S. Sen. Ron Wyden, former Portland Mayor Sam Adams, and City Councilors Jo Ann Hardesty and Dan Ryan, were among those who joined the revelry.
There were no uniformed police officers or police officers, as Pride Northwest adopted a policy that said the group did not want to leave the uniformed or armed police.
“Because there’s a lot of symbolism in this uniform that is incredibly provocative and traumatic for a lot of people in the community,” Porta explained. “It doesn’t take away all the work that LGBTQ agents have done to get where they are. But there’s a broader conversation that needs to be had because of the history and the impact on our community.”
The group’s written policy states: “The growing use of violence against our citizens, many of whom are part of the LGBTQ + community, is both frightening and unacceptable. Although Pride Northwest remains committed to a commitment that end the violence, we are forced to take further action now. “
Aside from a Portland police traffic car near the front of the parade, no group of Portland police protesters showed up.
Sgt. Kevin Allen, a Portland police spokesman, said before the event: “Our involvement will only be supportive.”
Robert Ball, a gay real estate developer and former commander of the gay Portland Police Reserve who has been in uniform at Portland Pride parades in recent years with a group of police officers, called the policy change of unfortunate.
“Trust comes when you commit and partner with the police,” he said. “LGBTQ + cops struggled to get out of the closet to work and to march to the parade. Pride Northwest is trying to put LGBTQ + agents back in the closet with this action.”
In 1991, then-Portland Police Chief Tom Potter took part in the parade to show solidarity with his daughter Katie, a Portland police officer who had recently left. Potter also wanted to show that the gay community could be treated fairly by the police, after a long history of being targeted.
Portland firefighters did show up.
While firefighter Christine Pezzulo helped decorate a Portland fire truck with a rainbow-colored ribbon, she said it was important to participate in the parade.
“It shows our community that we are inclusive, that diversity is important,” Pezzulo said. “It’s vital that we’re represented as a fire department.”
Pride Northwest had dozens of volunteers wearing fluorescent vests who helped control the route of the parade. Traffic safety was also done along the bus routes.
Tobyn Gendron shook bubbles at the corner of Northwest Second Avenue and the couch as he reserved a seat for other Christians in his LGBTQ + group to join him. Gendron, who lives in Newberg with her husband, said she is relieved to “emerge” from the pandemic for a Pride parade and festival in person.
“We need to celebrate who we are and share a sense of solidarity among ourselves,” he said.
– Maxine Bernstein
Email mbernstein@oregonian.com; 503-221-8212
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