'Rally 'Round the (Pride) Flag, Boys!'

Last week's column was a riff on the idea (promoted by an ad I saw online) that to be gay is to belong to a different "race" or a "third gender." Both propositions seem more than a little dubious to me, because from a strictly biological perspective, there is only one human race (variances of skin tone and bone structure notwithstanding), and gender is binary (male or female).

True, there are many cultural and ethnic shadings on the human spectrum, and when it comes to sexuality -- either sexual orientation or sexual identity or a cross-section between the two -- that can also get very complex, very quickly.

Generally speaking, though, I'd just as soon restrict words like "race" to taxonomic usage, and "gender" to matters of physiology. But I do think that a case can be made for GLBTs as a nation in and of themselves -- much as there's a "Red Sox Nation," for example, with the word having less to do with geography than with culture.

Seen in this light, the GLBT community is a true melting pot, and a showcase of diversity. I'm not just talking about sexual mores and practices, though that's also a part of the picture (how could it not be with the so-called "hanky code" embracing every color of the rainbow and then some?). Rather, I mean that GLBT Nation comprises the things we might be trying to articulate when we talk about third genders, or even fourth and fifth genders.

Moreover, GLBT Nation spans political borders and includes generational continents along with geological ones. We may not see a lot of young gays interfacing (or cross-pollinating) with older gays; it's all too true that older gays feel ignored by the younger set, and there are huge differences in attitude between the young (who are more likely to want the same things as their parents: House, marriage -- with a same-sex life partner -- and kids) and old (who often cannot comprehend why today's youth would want to "integrate" into hetero-normative society by embracing those ambitions).

And there are other differences, too. Asians say they face discrimination on the dating scene; bisexuals insist that they really do experience attraction for members of both genders, even while gays accuse bis of being too afraid to come out definitively as gay, in much the same way (and, perhaps, out of much the same aggressive, confrontational impulse) as atheists accuse agnostics of being too weak-willed to take the politically brave step of declaring themselves non-believers. (For the record, I'd have to say I find it braver to stick to one's own convictions, as shades-of-gray or middle of the road as they might be; there's more to be learned from a place of ambiguity, where one is willing to listen, than from a place of bloody-minded insistence.)

Some of us like loud music and tea dances; some of us would rather retreat to a place of serenity with a cup of tea. Some of us are party animals, and some homebodies. In temperament, we're just as varied as the heterosexual community. But the big difference is that the heterosexual community is so big and so pervasive -- there's such an assumption of heterosexuality about everything all the time -- that we're practically defined as a community, or a nation, just by not being straight.

If we are to be defined as "other," as a group or a community, then we might as well be constructive about it. Indeed, I think that we are: Just have a look at the celebrations that June traditionally brings. What do we call the parades and the parties? Pride! What does it give us? A sense of commonality and belonging; a sense of being among friends and kindred spirits. We should be proud, because that's part of a national identity. Another key component to nationalism, of course, is the flag -- an external symbol, and a visual cue, around which we can convene and to which we can anchor ourselves as part of a group dynamic and a group identity.

We have a flag, of course, and we don't call it a "gay" flag (though our detractors sometimes do). We call it a "Pride" flag, because Pride lies closer to the heart of our community as a whole than being "gay" does. Some of us, after all, are lesbian; or trans; or bi; or gender-queer; or... well, there are far too many groups and subgroups to get into them all. One word does not sum us up -- though the six colors of the flag do, or at least come close enough, and the concept of being proud of oneself is also a near universal.

Who wouldn't find it to be a good, constructive thing to take pride in oneself, to feel good about simply being who one is? Once you take pride in yourself, just as you are, you can use that as a starting point for just about anything: self-improvement, say, or the improvement of the world in which we live. It's not such a very great gulf between the individual and the All and Everything; to bring oneself into alignment with the universe as a whole strikes me as the very essence of worship, gratitude, and atonement. (This, I like to think, is what Gandhi meant when he said you have to be the change you want to see in the world.)

Brittle-souled people who fear the majestic diversity and the grand scale of existence and the wonders it houses like to tell us that we are "deviant" or "wrong," seeing the expression of our natural variance within the possibilities of the human equation as a matter of "sin." Sometimes they even want to snatch our flag from us, along with our sense of self, our sexuality, our physicality, our style, our shine, our families, and even our pride itself. Let's not hate them for it. Why hate those who clench their eyes shut against the vibrant palette of colors in God's gorgeous garden?

No; pride isn't about placing ourselves above anyone, or returning hatred when hatred is hurled at us. Pride is about strength, generosity, patience -- all the things that, taken together, create love. Not sex; not simply the Greek "eros," but the greater, transcendent variety of love, what the Greeks called "agape." A joyous, comprehensive, uninhibited, and untrammeled love for our fellow beings.

You know you can split sunlight into rainbows using prisms, right? You know all those colors are there, unified in a glorious light that warms our planet and powers the very engine of life, don't you?

Well, that's how, in the largest sense, I see our flag. That's how I see our community, too: We're striking and separate, distinct and vibrant in whole palettes of different ways. Combine us in some ways, and we clash; but let us come together in the right measures and patterns, and we create beauty. We become beauty. We have, and we are, beauty to share.

So pledge your allegiance to your Pride flag, boys! Be kind, play nice, and remember how tiny, but how meaningful, are the differences between you and your brothers and sisters. The six stripes of the traditional Pride flag stand for life, healing, sunlight, nature, harmony, and spirit, but I think that as a nation we stand for even more, and better, things: Truth. Beauty. Courage. Wisdom. Compassion. Vision. Hope.

If not, then what are we doing? Drinking too much, making a spectacle of ourselves, creating noise and litter? Surely we have more to say for ourselves than that. Surely we have a better example to set. Let our cocktails be libations to a God of Graciousness, and our songs be anthems of praise and delight! Let no one ever tell us to hate the body, when the body is the vessel and companion of the soul. Let no one tell us we have no right to be proud, because pride is our birthright.

We may not be a separate race, but we are a people. Let's be the good, strong people we were always meant to be. Let's never permit anyone to take us away from ourselves or edit out any part of our splendid totality -- neither our skin, nor our hearts, nor our minds.

Happy Pride!