Come Out, Stay Out

By Lina M. Sanchez B.

June 27, 1970, San Francisco, California, 30 persons.

June 30, 1979, Berlin, Germany, 450 persons.

June 28, 1982, Bogotá, Colombia, 32 persons.

"Come out! Come out to the streets, come out of the closet, come out to advocate for our rights, and to commemorate the victims of homophobia." I have had the opportunity to be part of the Gay Pride Marches in Bogotá, Berlin, and San Francisco, and these words are a mere fragment of the liberation I witnessed.

From balconies and windows of buildings, people celebrate, wave multicolored flags, and kiss each other from the convenience of the heights. Walkers leave their usual transportation to travel with the vehicle of life. In all three marches, there is a libertarian clanging and the same vital joy. The street tumult is an organism that accompanies us, that accompanies itself. On the corners of the streets, there are passing parties and brief shows. Mothers who support their diverse children display posters. The fatuous fire of history burns.

The Vibe

The word parade comes from the mid-17th Century and means "a showing". We come out -together- to show ourselves, not only as individuals but also as a collective. To show our bodies, expose ourselves, and see each other.

The scenes are a hyperbolic extension of what has already been happening in the city. In Berlin, during CSD, the streets belong to and for the people. In Bogotá, the march ends at Plaza de Bolívar: surrounded by the most essential bureaucratic buildings in the country, it has always been the meeting point for demonstrations of social struggles. The playful nudity showcased in San Francisco and Berlin would be beyond unthinkable in Bogotá. Berlin is home to FKK German naturalism, BDSM, fetishes, half-liter beer, and electronic music.

To feel proud, we have to stop feeling ashamed. And there is no better place to feel proud than amid a crowd celebrating what we were once ashamed of. These tumultuous spaces are also an opportunity to state our other multiple identities. In these cosmopolitan cities, there is an intentional quest to remember and proclaim the diverse backgrounds of the attendees.

In San Francisco, the overflowing joy is as warm and comforting as the afternoon light. And it springs from a particular type of pride: San Francisco has been the flagship city of openness and the gay movement since the mid-20th Century. There's pride in the air, along with the legacy of a city that's been living for this very moment.

The People

As the day progresses, each march begins to feel cramped. A sign that it's time to hear from the voices of those whose oppression is intersectional: the voices of trans people, neurodivergent, racialized, migrants. A wealthy white man, even if gay, cannot represent so much. White queers, however, must not be dismissed but become part of the structure that allows us to forge ahead in unity.

In San Francisco, a bunch of companies take over the public space with large floats. It was a disheartening sight. In Berlin, nudists are getting old. Companies have also found a way to promote products that now have a more expensive version printed with the gay flag. Commodification is rampant.

In Bogotá, just a week ago, a fledgling radio station that no one listens to anymore set up a stand and played music. All around, it smelled of Axe, that dizzying deodorant perfume. It scares me to think that it is only a matter of time before the place of struggle and celebration becomes a walking mall.

By now, the march spaces already feel cramped. It is time to hear the voices of those who have been oppressed multiple times, by different weights: the voices of the trans, of the divergent, of the racialized, of the migrant. A wealthy white man, even if gay, cannot represent so much.

These remarks, however, must not die as thrusts but become part of the structure that allows us to forge a broad march.

Collective Pride

There is much to be learned and replicated from the marches of each city; the visibility of multiculturalism, the irreverence, and the taking of the streets.

The diverse struggle, if it is meant to be a struggle, will have to be anti-capitalist. It will also have to be feminist, anti-racist, and advocate for the utter dismantling of inequalities and inequity globally. Perhaps then we will not only celebrate the pride of being who we are. Maybe then we will be proud to have forged a space in which everyone can be in justice and freedom.

Lina M. Betancourt is a writer born in Bogotá. Her creative work is focused on unraveling the human experience. She has worked as a translator, teacher, and editor, and she is an advocate for a just and sustainable world. Pronouns she/her. Website: linabetancourt.com