Folsom Street Fair, 1999
The Folsom Street Fair.
"We came, we saw, we left."
What did I expect from the largest pro-gay street fair in the world? I'm not entirely
certain. I tried to keep my expectations of what the Folsom street fair would be in check,
so I wouldn't have unrealistic expectations one way or the other. I have been a fairly
regular attendee to the Dallas Gay Pride fair for the last decade or so, and I've been to
my fair share of rallies and functions dealing with the gay lifestyle. What I found in San
Francisco was something completely different than anything that I might have expected.
When we first turned the corner into the fair, it seemed like just about what I expected.
There were a couple of dozen men in leather standing around the doorway of a bar (The
Eagle, in case you're interested) watching the crowd go by. The most unusual thing about
the scene was one man with a skinny butt walking around in ass-less leather pants. I've
seen that before, so it's really no big deal, except that he had no business wearing stuff
like that. Don't open the display window if you ain't got nothing to sell, buddy.
My friends and I walked down the road a bit, and turning the corner, discovered that we
haven't been where I thought we were. Suddenly we are assaulted by THE FOLSOM STREET FAIR.
10,000 gay men (and some women) pushed together like sardines in a can in the name of a
good time. At first, it was a bit overwhelming. One of the first things we saw was a
musical number whose singers consisted of a pair of fluorescent-haired women flogging the
bare bottom of a man on stage. Interesting. Not for that alone, I was glad I had my
camera. With it, I was able to focus my attentions a little better than I would have
without it. The act of seeing the world through the viewfinder, having to take time to
focus, compose, adjust exposure, and shoot, slowed "reality" down to the point
where I could more successfully assimilate the world around me.
As we pushed and shoved our way through the crowds, it became obvious to me that I was
never going to see everything there. I'd be lucky to see a tenth of what was out there, so
I stopped straining so much and accepted the fact that 90% would go unseen. As I viewed
the ten percent that I was privy to, the outlandish costumes, the nudity, the kinky sex
toys and fetishes, I slowly went from feelings of shock, to surprise, to eventual
acceptance. By the time the man wearing a harness and cock ring walked past me sporting a
large erection, I almost was inured enough to not even notice. "He had a nice tan,
and his fingers were thin. Oh yeah, he had a large penis, too. " It's disturbing that
you can get so jaded so quickly.
By this time, with the heat and the exercise we were all hungry, and we needed something
more substantial than fair-food to tide us over. Several of our group went shirtless that
day, and we stopped into a local leather shop to buy some T-shirts so we could eat indoors
somewhere without disturbing the other patrons. While inside the leather store, I was
struck dumb with the realization of what was happening around me. Two lesbians are
discussing purchase of bondage apparel in front of a video screen that features a sweaty,
muscular man receiving oral sex in plain view of their seven year old daughter. Neither
mother or daughter seems to notice that anything is amiss, or even out of the ordinary.
Two thin middle aged men in the center of the store are trying on metal face masks and
wrist restraints. One of our friends is having a harness fitted. And there is a woman in a
clinical outfit in the front of the store demonstrating the use of an electro-ejaculation
machine to a pair of spike-haired young men with pierced tongues. And all around, people
are behaving like they might if they were shopping in Macy's. It was overwhelmingly
surreal.
That night after we got home, talking with Blaine in the quiet of the truck sleeper, I was
overcome with a feeling of revulsion and shame. Both of us try to model our lives so that
if our grandmother were to unexpectedly walk in the door, we wouldn't be ashamed of our
behavior. I have been accused of being a dirty, yellow dog liberal, but even so I can't
imagine what is to be gained with such a display as Folsom. I walked right by naked men
and women without thinking that anything was odd. I watched as people around me engaged in
the most lascivious behavior I've ever seen in public, and I treated it as normal. My
actions didn't embarrass me as much as my attitudes did. What I saw was NOT normal. What I
saw was NOT healthy. There is a limit to liberation, and Folsom has crossed that line
flagrantly. Blaine and I attended a party where one attendee made appearances wearing
nothing but fruit-of-the-looms and proceeded to screw his rear end into several people's
crotches. The most peculiar thing about this to me was, nobody seemed to think that
anything odd was happening. The general attitude seemed to be, Anything Goes.
These people are acting like three year olds, pulling off their pants and running down the
street because it's a thrill to do something naughty. I'm convinced that it's a power
thing, as well. When someone walks down the street buck naked, they have control of the
situation. When you keep your eyes glued straight ahead and pretend that nothing odd is
occurring, they have forced you to behave in a certain way. You have relinquished power
over your own actions, and in their own minds, they are elevated.
Who am I to say what is right and what is wrong? Well, I'm a thinking man. I'm a man who
knows that his actions have consequences, and that my behavior reflects upon the groups
that accept me as a member. When Blaine first came out to San Francisco a couple of years
ago to see if the gay lifestyle was something that he could handle, he asked a friend,
"Does it have to be so tawdry?" That was a very valid question, and I'm proud to
answer, NO. It does not. If nothing else this weekend, I have learned that my mother
apparently raised me correctly, to examine my actions and behaviors, and to live in a
manner which doesn't conflict with my moral beliefs. Do I really want to be associated
with a group of people who pull their pants down in public and behave like complete
morons? Is this the sort of behavior that I could hold up before God and say proudly,
"I did that!"? I don't imagine so.
I don't think Folsom will be happening again for me.