To help promote and support today’s IDAHOT Day 2014, the marvellous people behind OUT140 invite you to write your own coming out story in 140 characters or less. Simply tweet your tale to @OUT140, or use the hashtag #OUT140. You never know, it could end up on stage.
You can also follow OUT140 on Faceache, and check out their website here.
This is something I prepared earlier….
I really ought to stay in more. Every time I stroll through the streets of Norwich, I trip over yet another big butch simian in glorious Technicolor. There’s a Guy hanging around on every corner. To make matters worse, I recently started to notice smaller window display versions in shops. All in all, there are probably more silverbacks in Norwich than in Rwanda (well, maybe not but you get my drift). So here are a few Gorillas I missed in my earlier post. The last ape in the montage looks enigmatically over at the Out of Africa store opposite which feels kinda appropriate. I was also rather taken with the little guy dragged up for Norwich Pride with a rainbow flag sticking out of the top of his head. So, my friends, give it up for Gay the Gorilla and his mates with their coats of many colours.
You might also like Gorillas in Our Midst
P.S. No more Gorillas, I promise.
Time to take down the Anatolian display and pack away the posters. The Pride Without Prejudice Show is done and dusted for another year and what a successful run its been. If you’d told me back in the day when I ebbed and flowed along the nose-to-nipple Victoria Line that, a few years on, I’d be showcasing a book I’d written at a bone fide exhibition I would have told you to where to get off (at the next stop and mind the gap). Did I sell any books from it? Your guess is as good as mine. At the very same time I was mounting the posters, I was featured on WordPress’ Blogger Profile site which has over 10 million subscribers. As soon as their interview was published, it all went a bit crazy for a while. If I did flog a few copies off as a result of the show it was icing on the cake. Will I exhibit again next year with the Sisterhood? Wild goats won’t keep me away.
Images courtesy of Norwich Pride on Facebook
By any measure, Norwich Pride 2013 was a rip-roaring, runaway success. 5,000 people flooded into the city to paint the town red, orange, yellow, green, blue and purple. Even the regal lions guarding the grand entrance to City Hall got into the act with rainbow garlands wrapped round their elegant necks and party hats propped on top of their fine heads. The BBC issued a weather warning but sheer exuberance blew the clouds away and bathed the crowds in warm sunshine. This was a Pride with a difference. Despite the large numbers, there was a touching intimacy and a genuine sense of inclusion sadly lacking in some of the mega Prides these days – no VIP areas for the cut above, no egos to massage, no fences to keep people out (or to keep them in), no faces that didn’t fit. We had a ball. Congratulations to the dedicated group of volunteers who made it all happen. You played a blinder.
I was chuffed to be asked to be the voice of Pride on Future Radio. Pity the poor people who had to listen to me witter on several times a day.
A picture paints a thousand words so check out the frocks and frolics on the Norwich Pride Facebook Page and the Norwich Evening News.
The marching season continues (no, I don’t mean the archaic and nose-rubbing Orange Day parades). Following a whole week of rather special events (including my very own display at the Pride Without Prejudice Art Exhibition), tomorrow is Norwich Pride day, a gift from the LGBT community to all and sundry. We missed it last year. Something else got in the way. Now, what was it? Oh, yes, watching the opening ceremony of the London Olympics from a balcony overlooking the stadium. We were torn, but the once-in-a-lifetime event won the day, I’m afraid. This year we are fully committed to the pink party. In fact, I’m going to be co-hosting the outside broadcast of Pride Live on Future Radio with the fabulous Di Cunningham from the epicentre of the knees-up on Millennium Plain, itself the epicentre of community life in the city. I’m not quite sure what to expect other than that it’ll be a scream and I’ll be the one doing the screaming. I think Di intends to wind me up and let me loose into the rainbow crowd to hunt down colourful victims to interview. Tune in on 107.8 FM (or online) and listen to me make a total prat of myself because I won’t know what’s coming up and I won’t have rehearsed my lines. Oh, sod it, who cares? It’s all in a worthy cause. Whoever you are, why not pop along and parade with pride?
As well as running a little workshop about blogging (a chat with one man and his dog, no doubt), I’m also exhibiting the Perking the Pansies book at Pride Without Prejudice at the St Margaret’s Church of Art. The gig starts tomorrow and continues for a fortnight. Can my irreverent take on the emigrey soap opera with my carry-on capers and titter-ye-not narrative be thought of as art? Entertainment perhaps, but art? I tend not to dwell on such questions. Some people think an unmade bed at the Tate is art. Who am I to judge? I’ll just chuck up my posters and hope for a few sales. The exhibition is presented by Art of Norwich in association with Norwich Pride and the Queer Arts Club. The showcase is open to all artists and entry is free. If you happen to be in the fair city of Norwich and have some time on your hands, come along and soak up the highbrow culture and my lowbrow wit.
These days, I think I know a thing or two about this blogging lark but when I started in 2010, I hadn’t a clue. I learned the trade the hard way, through trial and error. It was a trial and there were loads of errors. Mine was a solitary journey. I did quite well for a while, a bit of a sell-out tour. But when Liam and I packed up our drag in our old kit bags and paddled back to Blighty, I feared that Perking the Pansies might wither on the vine like some dried-up old fruit. I soldiered on, deliberately posting less but still regularly. Much to my relief, the blog’s gone from strength to strength and I have more subscribers than ever. Now the sum of my knowledge (or lack of it) is about to be put to the acid test. I’m running a Pride without Prejudice workshop called The Art of Blogging as part of the marvellous Norwich Pride Festival. I’m about to put my money where my mouth is. But will I fall flat on my face? Help.
‘The Little Book of Coming Out Stories’ must in the running for the smallest book in print. Like me and gift boxes from Cartier, the best things come in pocket-sized packages. The book may be small in size but it’s big in ambition – 140 stories in 140 characters (or less) for £1.40. It’s a coming out textbook for the Twitter age. Compiled and produced by filmmaker/trainer Shelly Telly and poet/artist Vince Laws, the book is packed with abbreviated anecdotes that amuse, shock, sadden and liberate. Bravo to the people who shared their stories. Two tales, in particular, caught my eye:
My mother has Alzheimers so I have to keep coming out. Doesn’t get any easier!
I came out to my friends and family. My friends have been very supportive. My parents don’t talk to me. Water is thicker than blood.
The book is available to borrow from any Norfolk library or to buy from the Book Hive, the Greenhouse Shop or direct from Shelley (email shell@shellytelly.co.uk).
Now what would be my own coming out short?
I bounced out of the closet from a trampoline. The overcrowded cupboard was giving me claustrophobia. I don’t do orgies.
Sadly, we missed Norwich Pride. As novice Norwichians, we hang our heads in shame. The event was held the day after the opening ceremony of the Olympic Games. The greatest show on Earth or the best show in Town? What’s a boy to do? We chose the former. Sorry. Had we not been nursing a hangover of Olympic proportions, we might have made it to march and mince with the rainbow people. Next year we’ll be there. Promise.
I hear the affair was a great success. Here are some pictures (courtesy of Steve Adams and the Norwich Evening News).
The marching season will soon be upon us. I’m not referring to the archaic and socially corrosive pipe and drum marches in Northern Ireland. No, I mean the collective act of uninhibited worship by LGBT communities in towns and cities up and down the realm. He-men in heels, lads in lycra, dames in dungarees and enough gingham to supply every Doris Day film ever made will be parading through the streets chanting the pink anthem, “We’re here, we’re queer, we go shopping.” All are welcome. It’s a glorious celebration of diversity without the slightest risk of disturbance by fascist thugs. Blighty isn’t Russia. The only skinheads on view will be in frocks. It wasn’t always like this. The Sceptred Isle has come along way in a few short years. According to The European International Lesbian and Gay Association Europe, Blighty is the best place in Europe to be gay. From what I’ve read and experienced, I would agree. Who’d be openly gay in Moldova?
Sadly, the dancing days of mega-prides are almost behind us. Most of them operated on a wing and a prayer at the best of times: a single bad weather day would financial cripple the lavish parties in the park with their huge overheads, top billing acts and decadent consumption of alcohol and recreational drugs. The cost of the clean-up operation alone was enough to bail out the Greeks. Brighton Pride is the lone survivor. Last year, for the first time, it was pay-on-the-gate affair. I fear its days are numbered.
We’ve been following the preparations for Norwich Pride with keen interest. Money is tight but the dedicated volunteers are doing all they can to ensure the festival remains both fun for all the family and solvent. The fundraising efforts that have caught my eager eye include ‘Ping Pong for Pride,’ a table tennis knockabout at a local primary school (with rainbow balls) and a Eurovision Song Contest party at Cinema City (proceeds to be split between Norwich Pride and the BBC’s Children in Need). On the 28th July, the gayest day of the year, Norwich will be awash with an ocean of fluttering rainbow flags, including over Hellesdon Hospital, Aviva Insurance, the Norwich Puppet Theatre, City College, Norwich City Council, Norfolk County Council, the Castle Museum and the Fire Service Head Quarters. We’ll be there to cheer on the drag queens, soak up the gaiety and to dance to diversity at Norwich’s very own family-friendly rainbow ball.
Perking the Pansies 