PRIDE... AND PREJUDICE?
Pride is success story. The first Pride March attracted some 300 lesbians and gay men; the 1994 festival drew an estimated 160,000. Not bad going, but at the time of writing, Pride is fragmenting. Arguments have raged in the press over the move of Pride from Brockwell Park in Brixton, South London to East London. It is understandable that the organisers made the move, mainly because the safety of lesbians and gays who attend the event is becoming an increasing problem: the number of people who are queerbashed after Pride has risen at an alarming rate over the last three years. In addition, Brockwell Park is difficult to negotiate if you are disabled, and the problem is exacerbated by the fact that the area was becoming more crowded with each passing year. The letters pages of gay newspapers and magazines are also alight with impassioned responses - both for but mainly against - to a plan to make the Pride 1995 march one to highlight lesbian (in)visibility.
We are constantly reminded that all of those "serving on the Pride Trust" are volunteers and that the top people are constantly calling for help from "other sections of the community". It is a handy way to deflect criticisms over elitism. As with many other male-dominated groups, it seems to be the rule that so long as you appear to be asking for assistance, no-one can accuse you of favouritism or ignorance. No doubt the people who work hard to ensure Pride is fabulous for you are annoyed at any suggestion that any group is not being catered for, but the evidence is there.
Complaints have been levelled at the Pride Trust that they are an almost exclusively white, male-dominated, middle-class elite who have little concern for lesbians, those who are disabled (including many HIV+ and PWAs) and ethnic groups. For the past two years, calls have been made to close down the women's tent and the area set aside for black, Asians and other ethnic groups. The Pride Trust - as you would expect - swiftly and categorically denied that any such plans existed. Some men have called for men-only tents to redress this apparent balance. I might suggest that any room taken up by tents for anyone other than men means less cruising space, and the more women there are, the less men are available. Further, it is nice to have a space where women can dance without risking decapitation by an E-head disco bunny.
In 1994, Channel 4's "Out" programme devoted airtime to the trials and tribulations of setting up Pride and included slots for various groups to express their anger and disappointment at the way the Trust had seemingly ignored their needs. Their pleas have apparently fallen on deaf ears for a number of years. To assuage the cries of despondent lesbians in particular, a Women's Co-ordinator has been appointed to angle for demands by lesbians (although similar plans for a Disability or Race Co-ordinator do not seem to be on the agenda), and open meetings have been held to discuss the grievances of lesbians who are fed up with being marginalised on what is supposed to be the most unifying and affirming day in the queer calendar.
1995 marks the first time that the Trust has publicly flown in the face of popular (male) opinion, by pandering to lesbians. In the twenty-one years since Pride began in this country, lesbians have never been placed at the front of the march. While our community is so obviously divided along the lines of gender, it is no wonder that this move has gained criticism, which could result in spoiling the entire day.
Why has Pride come to this? Consideration must be given to the fact that Pride is no longer recognised simply as a celebration of our sexualities. The event was described in 1994 as "the largest free outdoor music festival in Europe" which puts a different complexion on the reason why Pride is held each year. It is no longer, it seems, an "affront to capitalism and patriarchy" and has instead turned into a homage to commercialism.
Those attending Pride have seen the costs of goods on sale spiral - £18 for rainbow flags, £3 for badges, £7 for mugs, £15 for t-shirts and so on. Certainly, you are under no obligation to purchase any of the official Pride merchandise - or anyone else's wares - but those on the stalls either have to make a living or are raising much-needed funds for worthy causes. For example, I - and thousands of people I've seen over the last three years - sport red ribbons in an effort to raise awareness of AIDS and HIV. (Just an aside. Does anyone know how much money has been raised through the sale of red ribbons, or who the money has gone to?)
Still, not everyone is happy. Stall holders complained that they are being charged heavily and as a result, there were fewer stalls run by lesbian groups at Pride 1994, directly due to these increased costs. The traditional post-Pride parties are also starting to fleece lesbians and gay men to a degree usually only seen on New Year's Eve, with club entry prices at £10-15.
I cannot talk about the behind the scene activities - the hassle of organising a site, getting the acts together, planning out the stalls, liaising with the police for a high-profile route and so on - but it feels as if the success of Pride seems to outweigh the pressure to get it right. How could any small group of individuals (especially one made up almost entirely of white, middle-class men) possibly hope to represent our entire community? The answer is that they cannot, so why even try? All that matters is that Pride makes enough profit to ensure that the following year's festivities will be bigger, brighter and better - so that everyone can enjoy themselves, of course.
It would be great to see more lesbians or bands who have a sizeable lesbian following on the centre stage, and not have to see instead the fag hags who do the rounds of the gay clubs year in, year out, but the reaction of the mainly gay male audience is given more consideration. It would be glorious to wander aimlessly around the stalls (although this is becoming an increasingly difficult activity) and see more than one stall with dildos, one stall with wimmin's books, and one stall with kitsch socks for sale. It would be nice if the women's tent stayed open beyond 10pm and wasn't plunged into darkness and silence while the boys bopped on but refused us entry. It would be really good if I could come away at the end of the day without having been deafened by whistles.
Call me jaded and cynical if you like. Despite everything, it is still the one time in the year when you can feel good about being a dyke. I like seeing hundreds and thousands of like-minded souls getting off on the sheer enormity and spectacle of it all.
In 1997, Pride held its most successful festival and march ever. Over 100,000 people joined the march route, and over 300,000 came to the festival. In 1998, the Pride Trust, after a battle to manage the event, decided to charge £5 for tickets, and only sold 30,000. The event was cancelled less than a week before it was due to happen, and the Trust blamed the lesbian and gay community for not buying tickets.
©Megan Radclyffe 1995
SCENE... AND NOT HEARD
If there's one area where you can guarantee things will be fraught between lesbians and gays, it's on the scene. It is one of the most divisive areas of our community, and we should be grateful that our critics concentrate on our political divide rather than our social one.
There is a vast battle ground where victories are frequent but short-lived as promoters and punters alike are drafted in to fight for a space and a time. Sacred gay haunts are occasionally invaded by lesbians on one night (traditionally on a Monday or Tuesday) only to be reclaimed in the name of the Pink Pound after six months. Clubs that cater predominately for lesbians are turned into mixed or even straight venues for more profit, while gay hotspots strive on for decades packed to the gills.
Certainly, gay and mixed clubs do fold, but nowhere as often as lesbian venues do. Why is this? Why do my friends and I continually find ourselves astounded by the news of another closure?
Of course, new places open all the time and the lesbian and gay community has been built on the foundations of pub life. Any campaigning or support groups nearly always go to the pub for a swift pint or two and then indulge in alcohol-imbued analysis. Dates are regularly conducted within the sanctity of a queer-friendly pub, providing both distraction and initmacy. Sporting victories and disasters are celebrated in the local. It stands to reason that any community whose primary concern seems to be the pursuit of getting plastered. No matter then, as one bar shuts its doors in the face of an eager crowd, they find somewhere else to go.
Could it simply be that lesbians get bored with new trends more quickly than gay men do?
"There is little intermingling between the male and female homosexual societies. At the parties, bars, among one's friends and friend's friends, it is rare to meet Lesbians."1
Having established some 30 years or so ago that there is a slight imbalance, it might be prudent to ask what the real reasons are. I could assume that gay men resent a woman in their space because it means one less man, or just as easily waffle on about gay men taking up too much space when they dance. I could write paragraphs on the attitude of gay men to lesbians in their space, with all the jostling, name-calling and waiting in the toilet only to watch three gay men leaving one tiny cubicle. I could argue that promoters aren't concerned with the desires of lesbians, and that major league clubs rarely have huge events that are women-only or with men as guests. All of this can be dismissed as pointless rhetoric, so deeper digging is required.
Is it simply a financial problem? There are some gay men who would contend that ventures into the lesbian market are less profitable, but why? Reasons are variable, but it seems to be that there are less women who want to indulge themselves by dancing the night away. They earn less money and can't afford to go out. Even when they can, they have to choose carefully because the entrance charge is sometimes as hefty as a round of drinks. If they want to drink, they have to put up with inflated prices for their alcohol. They can't afford to put money into the charity boxes that crouch on the bar, and they can't stay until closing time because they can't pay for a cab home. I agree, there are gay men in the same situation. Similarly, there are lesbians who can merrily trip into a club every night of the week, if they so desire, although...
"The 'gay girl' is neither in temperament or in action much like the gay fellow. In general, she is rarely to be seen in bars or other night spots, nor is she frequently even in large groups... She is a stay at home, or if of the barring type, inhabiting small mixed bars."2
That may have been written 'way back when', but has the attitude of gay men changed that much from those heady days? There are many clubs that still operate a women-only door policy, but this space is being slowly eaten away by promoters who are letting gay men in. The ratio of women to men in these clubs is gradually climbing and although no-one seems overly offended, you can still sometimes hear mutterings of "Why do they let them in?" from corner tables crowded out by both sexes. If women or men want to gad about in the company of their own kind, there are plenty of places open to them. We have to be aware of is that there are quite a number of women and men who prefer the scene to be separated, and not continually force lesbians and gays to mingle together in the name of unifying queerness.
If the meat-market of gay club life is directly linked to the Pink Pound, then it stands to reason that lesbians will be left out. If it cannot be blamed on financial restraints, could it possibly be that gay men have an easier time coming out and so can afford to be open? I don't believe that this is necessarily the case, especially outside of the major towns, and it's worth noting that the people who frequent mixed bars and clubs seem to have less trouble integrating. In the heavily-populated cities outside of London, mixed clubs are considered quite successful, thank you very much. In the capital, lesbians are ignored, barred and barracked. One established bar even advertised a "Bring A Fish" night during 1992. Lesbians do not have these nights in their own clubs, probably lacking this style of 'humour'. This is borne out by the fact that we have virtually no derogatory names for gay men that aren't already used by straights or gay men themselves (fag, queer, shirt-lifter, batty-boy etc). Lesbians promoters - I have been told - now have to welcome gay men into the clubs now "because it would be discriminatory not to."
In addition, while straight females receive something akin to a rousing welcome in gay clubs, many lesbians are verbally chastised, shoved about and ignored by the barmen, and transvestites are allowed to take over a space that was apparently running rather well as a lesbian bar. Maybe I'm imagining it, but it just seems to me that lesbians are quite near the bottom of the list when it comes to social culture.
It's not all wrong. There are clubs around that are successfully mixed and matched, and I'm glad about that - really. If I'm allowed to make one suggestion, maybe all it possibly needs is a slight shift in attitude - and on both sides. Know what I'd like to see? Some honesty. I get fed up with straight promoters fleecing us with high prices and no show. I become furious when gay promoters do that. I get annoyed when gay bars advertise a big 'welcome' to lesbians but don't reflect our choice of music. I get riled by those lesbian promoters who spout about not being able to discriminate against men. It pisses me off when gay men shake their heads and claim "the boys won't like it".
This attitude is reflected in the arts and entertainment world generally. It applies to the differences between what lesbians find is being pushed at them as consumers and what they can identify with as their music, art and cinema.
"While women performers today may enjoy an unprecedented degree of freedom to present themselves as they please, lesbian performers are still 'safe' (read marketable) only when their sexuality is muted."3
Fear of a limited consumer base is not so much a problem for gay male artists. Lesbian taste and spending power in entertainment terms is neither perceived nor actually as great or targetable as that of gay men. Additionally lesbian performers internalise the fears of their promoters of negative publicity and career damage. The loss to the label or studio would be transient and recoupable but the consequences to a would-be 'out' lesbian star would quite likely be terminal on her mainstream career. Ambiguity - from kd lang to Suzanne Vega and Sandra Bernhard - or even an element of asexuality maybe included (or consciously added) as a point of interest to the star's image and public personae but may not be permitted an aggressive or threatening edge:
"We have yet to see a lesbian artist who is able to integrate her sexuality into her act without allowing it to become either the salient fact or else a barely acknowledged one."4
In other words, the price of overt lesbian identity in a performer is marginalisation. The mainstream remains 'untainted'.
Ambiguity for gay men has less imperative. An openly-gay artist will be more likely to retain promotional support than an 'out' lesbian as the strongly industry-based gay male club and arts consumer market brings their backers a respectable return on their investment. Gay male tastes are not difficult to target or, at very least, break even on - music, fashion and film-making have always received copious gay male interest and input. At the same time as creating for the arts scene, the parallel gay male culture is never far from it: the strong cross-over relationship between gay male culture and conventional or 'straight' media is thereby established. Gay trends in areas such as popular music frequently acts as a precursor to 'the next big thing'.
Acts like Erasure, Frankie Goes To Hollywood, Take That or the Pet Shop Boys illustrate this point graphically, being variously 'out' or ambiguous (depending on the subjective viewpoint of the audience) and reaping success on both sides of the gay/straight divide. The gay market demand for dance-orientated music is reliable and insatiable, and a profit is relatively easy to turn. Ambiguity works positively for gay male artists by allowing them to keep a foot in each camp.
What lesbians want to hear or see is much less clearly defined, partly because we are, by and large, an invisible and more disparate consumer group. What lesbians want is often radically different from what succeeds in the mainstream - either by gay or straight performers. Unless producers and promoters are prepared to take a few risks and put time, energy and money into developing openly lesbian talent (and preferably not wait until their bank balance can afford to bear a loss if the traditional arts scene rejects them), then lesbian performers will be forced to remain on the periphery.
As Hall notes, refering particularly to hostility or indifference towards disability among lesbians:
"Ensuring access to a broad variety of participants is not about doing for the poor unfortunates with special needs; it is about addressing barriers... that keep women apart."5
It should be clear we need gay men to adopt this thought in regard to demands for more input and involement from lesbians, people of colour, and other under-represented groups in lesbian and gay campaigns and causes.
If this understanding of active inclusion and recognition could only be transposed onto the psyches of gay men, perhaps the bickering, resentment and mutterings of 'Positive Discrimination!' could finally dry up, and a truly mutually supportive and affirmatory environment between lesbians and gay men may arise in its place.
1 "The Homosexual In America" by Donald W. Coy, 1951
2 From "Discussion Anyone?" Homosexual Magazine 1, 1954
3Androgny Goes Pop: But is It Music? by Arlene Stein, "Sisters, Sexperts, Queers" publ. by Plume 1994
4 Ibid
5 Bitches In Solitude: Identity Politics and Lesbian Community by Lisa Kahaleole Chang Hall, "Sisters, Sexperts, Queers" publ. by Plume 1994
Lesbians in London and other major British cities have an easier time finding entertainment; those outside of the metropoles are, for the most part, still stuck in men-only enclaves. ©Megan Radclyffe 1995
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