My Life as a Queer Man, Shape-Shifting Through Multiple Landscapes
Donning the “appropriate” guise for the circumstance
I had just resurfaced from total immersion in the Portland Pride Parade and the raucous, celebratory post-parade festivities at the Riverfront. From that morning through the afternoon, it had been a treat to witness thousands of LGBTQ+ folks revealing and demonstrating their most fabulous (often outrageous) selves.
Many showed up dressed in provocative, barely there, skin-hugging attire tracing the outlines and curves of a vast array of bottoms, breasts, and other parts. A number strutted around topless, or with shirts unbuttoned, exposing their pendulous or freshly blossoming upper torsos. Most had placed tape or pasties over nipples, while some shamelessly let ’em all hang out.
The day’s spectacle had actually kicked off with one extremely well-endowed fellow prancing down the center of the parade route like a drum major leading a marching band, wearing nothing but a creamy white, ankle-length coat that covered their posterior parts, but did nothing at all to obscure the impressive, frontal package they were brazenly putting on display for the excited, gobsmacked crowd.
Portland Pride once again revealed itself to be a loud and proud, unabashed gender-bending party…
