So yeah, I’m not religious and have been having a hard time to understand why people would want to be a part of a structure that through so many years clearly expressed a anti lgbt- attitude. I left the Swedish church in my late teens and even if I look back sometimes and think it was not the most constructive thing to do, I am very proud today. But not because I’ve left but because I used to belong to a structure that today has shown that it can change. Not only a semi-change (civil partnership) but also a full change GIVING SAME SEX COUPLES THE FULL RIGHT TO MARRIAGE!!!!!!!!!!!!
In the light of queer activism around the world this is amazing news. Change can happen, take place and mean something rather than nothin. Empty words can become filled with a meaning. I’m not fooled in the fact that the meaning not always itself is the best one ( how come marriage is continued being viewed as the goal of love, as the ultimate manifestation of love?) but I do acknowledge single individuals want to enter such an agreement and manifestation and think they should have the every right to.
And now, finally, in Sweden you can
We sit at the fastfood place, it’s early summer morning and we have just left the party were we celebrated Stockholm Pride. Me, one of my dearest friends and another lovely friend of mine are bubbly, high on endorphins and also tired after one week of queer activism and partying in the most beautiful city in Scandinavia.
H who is a pervert and loves to dance is often perceived as being gay. I think it has to do with his pink latex in the pride parade, or that he just sometimes does not conform to gender stereotypes. And I love him for it. With makeup or without, in his smart suits (suits that he can pass as a straight man). But all in all, he identifies as a straight man. This morning he is dressed up, wearing his matrixy pvc-coat and nice makeup.
So we are sitting, munching away, some of us on vegetarian hamburgers, some of us on dead animals. When H decides to go to the loo he has to pass a group of people, and they stare. We are used at being stared at, christ, 12 hours prior to this we paraded through Stockholm, dressed in our finest latex, leather, pcv and corsets and we enjoyed every minute of it. So far so good.
But now when H is walking back, passing the group again, there it is. Shouted out. ‘Fucking faggot’.