SGN Page 47

by Beau Burriola

OH, GAWD!
"Homosexuals," the man said to me matter-of-factly, stressing the "sex" part of the word in that condescending way that men like him do, "do not get into heaven." I stood with the rest of the protesters outside of Safeco field, watching the bigots come and go, conversing with those who dared to stop. He stopped. "I see&" I said. "Well, what about if they just happen to know someone that works the gate - like you, for instance?" His demeanor and serious look, together with his sports coat, made him look distinguished in the vacuum repair guy sort of way. I could tell my answer didn't please him. "You know," I said flirtatiously, "we're not such bad people. We're colorful, creative, accepting&and always looking for new recruits." "Don't mock God," he said with all seriousness. His face was getting red. "Oh, I'm not mocking Him," I answered with a pause, "I'm mocking you." I admit I enjoy running into people like this. Not because of the confrontation - though parrying wits against those with no sword is sometimes fun - but because of the personal confidence in knowing I've thought long and hard about everything I believe. Since my super bible-saturated childhood, it's taken me plenty of time to get comfortable who I am, and to even bother asking questions of faith at all. The occasional chance to duke it out with my past is, now more than ever, an invigorating way to remind myself how far behind me that dark past is. "Do you think we'll go to hell?" a young Gay friend of mine asked me this last week out of the blue with genuine concern. We were hanging out on the gym patio looking across the street to a church with a huge rainbow flag draped across it, left over from Pride. I was thrown for a moment by the word "hell" back into the memory of talking to the bigot at the Marriage rally at Safeco Field. Just like that bigot, my young friend's old fear is always there, waiting to pounce and wreak havoc on an otherwise happy guy, who deserves much better than that. We all do. In my adult Gay life, conversations of faith are more personal than dogmatic; always reflective and never angry. It really says something that I haven't had a faith-based "argument" since I left the Bible Belt, as if faith were ever anything to argue. Did I think we were going to hell? Not for being Gay, I didn't. "My parents think that I am," he said a bit quieter. I could see the thought in his eyes. "Well," I said, walking on eggshells, "I believe there's more to it than that." "You think so?" he asked. I nodded. "Why?" I didn't have the perfect answer. To this question, there are no perfect answers. For every answer there's an argument, and for every point, a counter-point. But in a world with no completely assuring answers on faith, it feels right to just keep it personal. "Because some man a couple of thousand years ago wrote a chapter, claiming on behalf of God that it is wrong to be Gay. He wasn't Gay, and I forgive him, because he let some of the culture he lived in seep into his writing and I know what that's like. I just think there's more to it than that man's personal beliefs." I left it at that and we didn't talk about it much more. Then Sunday afternoon I got a call. I wasn't there to pick it up, but the voicemail was short and sweet enough. It was my young friend announcing he had gone to visit that Pride-covered church. So another personal spiritual continues. Maybe it will go to the mountains of Nepal, the reliquaries of Europe, the cathedrals of Russia, or the deserts of New Mexico. Or, just maybe, it might stay right there at that church; but just like it was long before man came along and made all the rules for spirituality, someone is continuing the journey on their own. And nobody - whether Creator of All Heaven and Earth or a vacuum repair guy - can help but appreciate a journey as personal as that. Beau Burriola is a 25-year-old writer continuing his own quest. Send him email to beau@beaubrent.com. TRADITION OR GREED? You may have noticed by now the signs going up all over Broadway. "Keep Pride on Broadway!" they demand in big letters, inviting passers-by to come in and sign a petition to do just that. It seems like reasonable enough idea on its face, but is this really a plea to keep with "tradition" for community interest, or is there something more sinister going on? It's no coincidence that the organizers of the Keep Pride on Broadway campaign are Broadway business owners who - if Pride moves off of Broadway - stand to lose big money from the hundreds of thousands of revelers Pride brings. So, in a fit of panic at the Pride Committee's announcement that next year's Pride will instead take a downtown route to Seattle Center, the businesses are now staging a magnificent campaign and petition drive to keep that revenue right where it is. In response to this new campaign, the Pride Committee will hold a community meeting this Sunday, July 17, at the Lifelong AIDS Alliance conference room to discuss the issue with the community. There's no doubt the well-organized Broadway Business Brigade will have their supporters there in full force, screaming for the interests of the businesses, but who will be there to speak that does not also have one hand on their wallet? Recently in Portland, an alternative "Pride" parade was organized to demonstrate against the over-commercialization of Pride. "Stonewall wasn't sponsored by Budweiser," read one protester's sign, illustrating perfectly the growing disenchantment with the greed that has come to highlight and sponsor our Pride. "Our Pride is not for sale," read another. Now we face the same question in Seattle on a smaller scale here. Should we keep pride on Broadway to appease the businesses, or should we begin to expand pride to include other areas of the city outside the walls of our ghetto where Pride has not gone before? It's an important question that could decide the future and direction of Pride as we know it. Come by and voice your opinion this Sunday. I'll be there and you should be, too. - Beau