MY PINK IDENTITY
So folks, I had a new experience on the weekend. I went to the Pride Parade. Dressed in pink. Well, kind of dressed in pink. I was actually dressed in a black jumpsuit with a warm pink jacket because it’s now the only pink thing that fits me but it was a hot Hobart day so it was a little bit sweaty marching down the streets. But it was worth it. It was my first ever outing as somebody who no longer entirely identifies as straight. But I don’t identify as anything else either.
Maybe my identity is pink
I am definitely the kind of person who falls in love with hearts and souls. I don’t really fall in love with gender. I imagine there’s a word for that somewhere in the rainbow spectrum of sexuality. But to be completely honest, I don’t give a flying fuck about labels. What I do give a flying fuck about, is people. How beautiful they are on the inside. How authentic and funny and loving and kind and compassionate and empathetic and intelligent and caring they are. And then of course when it comes to love, there is the indescribable experience of pure unadulterated magnetic attraction and inexplicable chemistry that has no rhyme or reason but just feels so incredibly right in your heart. That is love. And the package that love comes wrapped up in is really of no consequence. Not to me anyway.
So perhaps I do fit under the diversity umbrella somewhere and I very happily joined a group of friends with a beautiful floral banner that said “Live, Laugh, Lesbian” and we walked down the main streets of Hobart in the midday sun. Surrounded by rainbows and bubbles and marching drums and people cheering and photographing and holding hands. It was a beautiful display of solidarity and love. In the current global climate, I wish there was more of it around.
Even more exciting than the parade however, was the fact that I socialised. Two days in one week. It was nothing short of extraordinary. And not only that, but I enjoyed it. I am of course completely exhausted today and my social battery may have ended up drained. But I will refill it by staying at home and playing with my cat.
I was given a pink feather boa at the after party
And yes – I went to the after party and had some drinks and some dancing and some tears and some conversations and lots of laughs. I have not seen so many drag queens in one place for quite some time. It was very colourful. And heavy on the mascara.
But once I took my warm pink jacket off I borrowed temporarily and then permanently stole the lush pink feather boa from one of the ladies in our group. She said I wore it better. Which is very kind of her to say. And I went home with that feather boa wrapped around my neck then carefully placed it on my dining table ready to be safely stored as a precious memory at a later date.
Imagine my surprise Monday morning when I awoke to find the feather boa wrapped tightly twice around the leg of one of our armchairs, with a large array of feathery accoutrements spread out over the entire living area and kitchen. My little furry companion had a pink party overnight. I guess she is also embracing the diversity banner. And then the litter tray was full of – and there is no delicate way to say this – little pink poos. It is a shame there was no glitter to give it a little sparkle. But it is definitely the most decorative litter tray we have had the delight of witnessing to date.
So my pink identity is complete
I fall in love with people not labels.
I can apparently rock a pink feather boa.
My cat approves.
I am now officially diverse. Whatever that might actually mean. I imagine that the people who know and love me don’t really care about labels either. But I hope they agree that pink is a good colour on me because I grew up with my grandmother always telling me I wasn’t allowed to wear pink because I had red hair and really I felt I was missing out. I was very sad about that because I do love pink. And while I did hope to keep the feather boa as a keepsake, I now instead have some very vivid memories that will stay with me for a lifetime.
Memories of rainbows and drums and colourful umbrellas and dancing and drinking and laughing and sequins and singing and solidarity and love and loss and very heavy eye makeup and the young and the old and the short and the tall and the shy and the extrovert and the colours and the blacks and very, very, very loud music. And me staying out until after 9:30pm. It was an extraordinary day.
