"whose streets? our streets!"
"just engaged!"
"queer asians against war."
"i would be legal if we could marry."

june 24 i attended (nay, marshalled) the new york city dyke march. it was perhaps one of the most amazing experiences of my life, thus this post is going to lack much of my usual cheekiness and sarcasm.
first of all, the closest i've come to meaningful collective action was attending the halifax citizens against the war's 2003 protests in my hometown, which pretty much consisted of the elderly unitarian universalists (love them!), my then-girlfriend, and me.
this was entirely different. instead of a handful of mismatched daytona hippies, this was a five block long crowd of dykes of all genders, ages, styles [insert cheesy identity metaphor here]. they were righteously pissed off yet empowered, loving life and creating meaningful visibility as they traversed the 42 city blocks with dogs, partners, children, lifelong best friends, and brand-new acquaintances.
karen and i were marshals, which meant that we had to run about and block traffic, holding hands with relative strangers so that the march would go smoothly and nobody would get run over (which almost happened...)


i'm no lesbian separatist or identity politician, but i am more intent than ever on working to create meaningful communities for people, with music, art, ideas. what will queer culture look like when we have equal rights? part of me fears that our culture has arisen from stigmatization, oppression, and inequality, and will cease to be politically charged, fiesty, dynamic, once equality is achieved. will the gay community (by whatever acronym we've adopted at the time) become one big singles club (or rather two: one for the ladies and one for the bois)? i sincerely hope not. i hope queer culture- its symbols, its people, its inside jokes- lives along with political/social/economic equality.
i want to have my (gay) cake and eat it too.