I didn’t say "Oh, this is SO gay!" The fellow to the right in the black/red leather teddy, fishnet stockings and hip-high red PVC boots said it, when the dance music on his float started pumping just as it turned onto Market Street to join the Pride parade. Everybody at the corner of Market and 1st Street busted out laughing: San Francisco is a beautiful place.
I was supposed to be on a date Sunday, 25-JUN-06, but she cancelled at the last minute. So I loaded up my photo-vest, hopped on my scoot, and went to Pride for the first time in six years in the Bay Area (the gallery won’t be complete for a couple of days–check back after 04-JULY-06).
Photographically, I had the same challenges as at Carnaval: a blaring sun almost right overhead, with everyone in the staging area facing north away from the sun. I remembered my flash this time, but even then, it could only do so much.
The real challenge wasn’t taking the pictures, though. It was reviewing them afterwards. Well, maybe it was a bit of both. I know what a gorgeous woman looks like: I worship the female form in its infinite and wondrous varieties, and when I see one in a fantastic costume, I can’t help but take a great picture.
Men, though… that’s… that’s hard. I look at these pictures, and… I just can’t figure out why gay men and straight women
are attracted to men. OK, interesting bits, I can identify: like this woman wearing a strap-on, or the fellow with balloons (to the left, click any photo to enlarge).
But is the "grizzly bear" to the left good 
looking? Or the skinny guy in black wig/mustache wearing nothing but boldly colored "tighty
whiteys?" I just don’t know.
[I should acknowledge that I appreciate the skinny boy more than the grizzlie bear, but only because I’ve got the same body, minus two hours per day in the gym. But that could be my body if I really really really wanted it. Which I don’t. Even though I’d like it. I just don’t want to put in the effort.]
I guess I see two points to Pride:
- Celebrating the beauty of the human form in all its varieties and imperfections.
- Saying, with pride, "This is me, this is my life, these are my friends, this is my family."
The second I understand in my marrow, because, while it’s not me, and it’s not my life, it IS my family, and these ARE my friends.
But the first, well, I get it with women who don’t fit the Maxim/Playboy mold–beauty takes so many forms. But… C’mon! Is that grizzly bear attractive? I mean, nice expression, interesting picture, but dude, he’s uber hairy and he’s a guy!?
I had no idea how to capture Pride on film. But the energy was intoxicating, the clothing (or lack thereof) was liberating, and it was just fun.