Mardi Gras Australian Style

I do love a pride parade. Usually I'm involved with organizing people for such events -- herding cats, as we say. So it was with some glee that I was attending Sydney Mardi Gras without any responsibilities. And it was fortunate that I met up with Jean Kropper earlier that day and had a tenured Mardi Gras attendee to show me the ropes. 


Sydney has decided to manage the parade in such a way that I have never seen, even in NYC or San Francisco. There are barricades all along where the marchers are gathering and only people who are officially in the parade are allowed within their confines. Also, the parade route itself is tightly controlled and you had better get yourself to the side of the street you want to be on as early as possible or you've missed your opportunity. There are a lot of fun sights to be seen, however, before it all begins. Many people and groups along the route are dressed up in outrageous costumes and are happy to pose for you. In fact, they'd be insulted if you don't ask for a photo.

Jean and I fortified ourselves with a glass of red wine and then we donned our raincoats and found ourselves an indentation in the crowd to fit ourselves into. The dykes on bikes roared around the streets for a while psyching the crowds up with their bravado. Then there was a lull...and the crowd began to get restless. The rain kept coming. We looked up at the tall apartment building across from us and saw partiers in every single room. That's where I wanted to watch this parade from, at least while it was pissing down on us. 


And then the frivolity began! Music, dance routines, cheeky revelers, partial nudity, political statements --they had them all. Pride spirit is universal and people were hooting and hollering and cheering each other along. 


Sydney knows how to create a spectacle, that is for sure, yet I did feel all the control mechanisms did create a distance between the participants and the spectators that I haven't felt at other prides. If I had wanted to pay $100 I could have bought a seat at the glamstand and had a great view of everything, but that just feels so against my own idea of what a pride parade is about. If you have money you get a better view of this fabulously diverse community? That doesn't jive with me. 


In the end, Jean and I saw our fill and actually left our post before the parade ended to make our way across town before the throngs would impede us. It was still raining and we could hear the celebrations from blocks away. The next afternoon I ventured back to Oxford Street and you would never have known there had been a million people screaming and dancing and littering the main streets of Sydney. As I passed a couple of young men, another guy called to them from across the street. The couple stopped and cajoled him, "Are you still out? You are a naughty boy!"