From: lotter@cc.und.ac.za (Eddie Lotter)
Subject: Newspaper article
Organization: University Of Natal (Durban)
Date: Tue, 18 Aug 1992 05:24:01 GMT

The following article appeared in the Sunday Tribune. When I get the
chance I'll scan the pics and submit them to a MOTSS anon ftp site.

The article is very neutral, and not a *little* mixed up, but I'll
leave the reaction/discussion to you. (When someone doesn't know the
difference between a Valkyrie and a Barbarian I begin to wonder about
other distinctions.....mmh.

----- Article reproduced without permission -------------------------

Gay day in San Francisco is an internationally known event, even
getting a mention (usually snide) in South Africa. Durban journalist
Wanda Hennig found out what it is really like abd took the pictures.

--

  You come from South Africa? he asks, every word an exclamation. "I
have friends in Pretoria. In fact, I have a friend in Pietersburg.
Can you *imagine* being gay in Pietersburg? That must be like being
gay in the desert."
  I had to admit I'd never imagined being gay in Pietersberg.
I was having enough trouble imagining being gay in San Francisco. In
fact, I was beginning to wonder if this wasn't all imagination - in
the form of some weird and very strange dream. Members of the Radical
Faeries walking past wearing gold body paint and stilts. Men in
dresses and moustaches (together). Men in frilly tutus. Girls ranging
from the best of Barbi to Brunhilda the Barbarian gone wrong.
  I'd bussed to the city centre with my friend, Linda, an ex-Cape-
tonian now settled in the suburbs of San Francisco. We thought we were
getting there early but an hour before the start, the supporting crowd,
estimated to be 500 000-strong, was crammed five deep along the entire
parade route. So, being resourceful South Africans, we climbed some
scaffholding and shinned on to a window ledge to get a bird's eye view
of the city's 23rd annual Lesbian and Gay Freedom Day Parade. "You
don't have to be gay to join the fun, the food, the floats," said the
invitations, splashed around the city all week.
  Our vantage point, unfortunately, wasn't long-lived. We made like
human flies for the Dykes on Bikes, about 1 000 "dykes" on 500 bikes,
whooping, revving and waving, in various stages of dress and undress,
array and disarray, who traditionally lead the four-hour parade and
set the mood. After the "dykes", we descended to mingle with the mob
after a policeman said he'd arrest us, for our own safety, if we
didn't. Linda, three months short of her Green Card, thought it
better that we comply.
  And in fact, mingling is where we got in touch with the message. To
be precise, the multiple messages, because that's what the day was all
about.
  The 200 floats that bounced, rocking and gyrating, the dozens of gay
contingents marching, and the hundreds of stalls set up in the vast
city square, gave some idea of the varied and diverse viewpoints that
fall under the general heading "gay". Safe-sex groups dressed in
pastel-coloured condom copies handed contraceptives to the crowds.
Environmental groups handed out recyclable flyers. AIDS awareness
groups staged mock death scenes on the tarmac. And in between, people
kissed and cuddled, walked their dogs, sang and danced and generally
had a good time.
  For many the annual parade represents an opportunity to educate the
world about their lifestyle. "The more you see us, the more you see
that we're real people," said biker Sandra Watters. "I don't have a
forked tail and horns." This might sound strange, coming from someone
living in the so-called gay captial of the world, but, while the city
is overtly open and tolerant, gay bashing is on the increase and
there's still discrimination in the workplace.
  Proving that even in the gay community tolerance has its limits,
several gay groups showed up to protest a controversial bunch called
Nambla, the North American Man/Boy Love Association, who advocate
lowering the consent age to have sex with a minor in California. They
drew boos, hisses and a few hurled cans of beer. "They are not repre-
sentative of the San Francisco gay community," said Fred Crosson of
Gay Men Against Nambla. "They are a bunch of child molesters who
should be locked up."
  Politics made their way into the parade - proving that when it
comes to being gay, sex is only the hot tip. Presidential hopeful
Ross Perot came in for several lashings after an earlier comment
that, if elected, he wouldn't put gays in positions of high power.
And Native American gays, sometimes referred to as "red Indians",
erected a teepee on San Francisco's equivalent of Medwood Gardens
outside a city hall that looks remarkably like Durban's. They said
they were reconnecting with their heritage.

  In the week leading up to "gay day" every mainstream and fringe
publication in and around San Francisco gave coverage to gay rights.
The local TV station screened gay movies and interviewed a delegate
attending the Gay and Lesbian Journalist Congress on why he "came
out". It was the week of the Gay and Lesbian Film Festival. We read
about African American gays, Asian American gays, gay parents, the
Gay and Lesbian Historic Society. You name it, you got "gay".

  My friend Linda and I declined the safe sex T-shirt being sold by
the gay man with the friend in Pietersburg. Not because we objected
to the sentiments. We didn't like the design. We decided we didn't
want to imagine being gay in Pietersburg, either. Instead, we
imagined Pietersburg being straight in San Francisco.

----- Article reproduced without permission -------------------------

I have kept the article as true as possible, since there are several
mistakes I had a good chuckle over.  8-)

Cheers
Eddie
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