Nelson’s Corner | July 2024

A most remarkable statistic: My high school, grades 10-12, had 3,200 students. Not a single one was gay, lesbian or trans. What on earth has happened?

It is not that no one was suspected. It was rumored that Sharon was seen kissing another girl in a car. And my 10th grade English teacher, Tom, was unusually familiar with boys. But he was married with an infant daughter so…

Several years later, in my first year of college, I became friends with a life-of-the-party frat boy named Frenchie. He was bright and funny. Unlike most frat boys, he loved jazz and poetry. Late one night Frenchie came to my dorm room, knelt before my lower bunk, and rambled incoherently for a while.  It became a sporadic habit, culminating in a late night “confession,” punctuated by my brief glimpse of a razor blade held to his wrist.

I told Frenchie that he had to stop, as the visits were deeply unsettling. We never talked again. He was a senior, and after graduation I found a long, poignant letter in my mailbox, thanking me for my kindness. I hadn’t been kind as much as terrified.

Only a few years later I learned that Tom and Frenchie had committed suicide.

June 2 was Erie Pride Day. This third annual event, held at Coal Creek Park, was sponsored by Being Better Neighbors. 

My wife and I attended, as we have each year. The weather was perfect and the mood was absolutely delightful. We were screened by uniformed officers, lightheartedly doubting the probability of a 75 year-old white-haired woman smuggling a handgun into a Pride event. Then several rainbow-clad preteens handed us small Pride flags.

Before wandering far, the Mom Hug booth beckoned. I don’t know from whence or where the Mom Hug phenomenon arose, but I took two for good measure and a third from a Dad Hugger. I don’t know whether one is supposed to be a Mom, and then get a hug, or if the huggers are Moms and will hug those of any age, gender, or familial status.

We passed various vendors and then encountered the event’s featured drag queen, who would later tell stories about love and acceptance, which are apparently threatening to the well-being of children in Florida. They were quite large, deep-voiced, and wearing the best kicks I’ve seen in a while, mashing style, gender identity, and sexuality into a pair of massive, pink, high-heeled Converse All-Stars.

It was impossible to identify the sexual identity of most of the invariably friendly folks who ambled by, but mere attendance forged an unspoken, pleasant kinship. It’s good to know that our small/medium-sized, mostly white town cares enough about the richness of diversity to hold such an event. A Juneteenth event is scheduled for June 22 at the same site.

More than anything, we loved the children; teenagers, pre-teens, younger kids, toddlers, and more than a few strollers with rainbow streamers.

Many among them were dressed in a way that suggested something other than cisgender rigidity, but making assumptions is a risky and unnecessary enterprise. What mattered was that they were among kindred spirits for a time. While angry homophobia is not a community constant, any gay, bi, trans, or questioning adolescent or adult navigates many settings, including schools, that are not uniformly accepting.

I cannot presume with full accuracy, but I felt certain that some of the younger attendees were trying on an existence they’d not been free to openly display. I observed many kids who seemed liberated to find it was ok to be — simply be.

An event like Boulder Pride at the end of June can be overwhelming. Of course, it’s not New York City, where my school sponsored a float each year in the fully outrageous Pride Parade.

But in a town like Erie, a Pride event can make one feel included, not just spectating. It wasn’t overwhelming or underwhelming. It was just right.

I think back to my high school days and how many young women and men must have been closeted, or sadly resisting an essential part of themselves. That process does inestimable damage.

Perhaps life would have been much different, and much longer, for Frenchie and Tom if they had a Pride event to affirm and support them when they were children.

Instead, they had to live a lie which eventually became too much to bear.