The Tokyo Pride Parade on Saturday was a cause for celebration, raised eyebrows and plenty o’ water.

I still can’t believe the parade went on in the midday heat.  My partner and I arrived near the start of the festivities to browse through the flea market, listen to the band, toss back a cold one, and most importantly see who was out and about.  As we walked around, we were handed several pamphlets, leaflets, fliers and fans.  Some of the stuff had information on health organizations or gay support groups, but the majority of the stuff had information about clubs, bars and after hours parties.

Now I’m no saint.  Back when I was a single 20-something in New York, I was a regular Diane Keaton in Looking for Mr. Goodbar (without that grizzly and still shocking ending off course).  But it did bother me that sex was the primary focus.  Oh, yes, yes, a celebration of our presence and strength.  But really, how do you expect to fight the man when you’re handing out pansy-green bags with the flaccid slogan, “We’re already living together.”

Oh my Dear Lord!  They’re already living together!  Jesus, Mary and Josephine Baker, let’s just give them what they want!

Though we didn’t stay for long (the heat), I was happy we went.  We very rarely go out to the gay area in Shinjuku, so it was fun to be there, surrounded by our gay brothers and sisters, listening to the music, taking in the scene and saying a big collective, “Fuck You!” to the man.