June 30, 1997

Wendy and Lettie

I'm not gay. I'm not bi-curios or have any other interest in engaging in any kind of homosexual experience. I also am not a neo-nazi skinhead or anyother kind of sociopath. I'm just a regular guy who had a craving for a taco. That is how I stumbled across the Gay, Lesbian, Bi-sexual and Trans-gender Pride Celebration. That annual event, staged on a sunny Sunday afternoon in June, that is held in remembrance of a dark and evil night many years ago, when being gay meant your life wasn't worth squat. However, today, everybody, and I mean everybody, gets to put their passions out on "front street", or in our city's (SF) case, on the streets of Market and the Embarcadero.

I figured I'd better leave the house a little early, not knowing how I would find my way through the maze that the city's Department of Public Transportation had made, to accommodate the revelers. As it turned out my route to work wasn't effected in the slightest. That put me downtown with an hour to spare.

Having gotten to work in time to grab a bite at Taco Bell before I got started, I ventured down Main Street, across Market, to get a snack.

This is the closest that I had ever come to experiencing what was, at one time, known as the "Gay Freedom Day Parade". I didn't see any "Dikes on Bikes" or men being led down the street by a leash attached to a chrome, studded collar. Not even the infamous "Birdman" of years gone by who, as it was reported by a thoroughly impressed acquaintance, wore a cloak of brightly colored feathers, which he swept open as often as not, to show the all of himself above his black leather combat boots. No, I saw none of them.

What I saw was a number of people walking hand in hand, who just happened to be of the same gender. I thought to myself "Where else would this behavior be more welcome than in the birthplace of the Summer of Love. Ah, yes. Free love. Was there ever such a thing?"

This isn't any different, accept this time around the girls just want to be boys and the boys just want to be girls. It's not a feeling that I can relate to, but, there was a sense of joy around the concrete canyon, not the militarism that most "straights" associate with the public display of homosexuality.

Another thing that I saw was that a serious percentage of the crowd could be classified as "looky-loos". You know the type. They always slow down to take a look at the carnage when they pass a train wreck. Well, I guess I took a look myself, but I tried not to stop traffic. It might be that twinge of skepticism in me, that little vein that runs down the back of my neck, underneath that row of hairs that stand up from time to time.

Anyway, I suspect that those straights who came out (and I don't mean out of the closet) to support the gay community in their celebration of individual freedom, may have had an ulterior motive. They wanted to get a glimpse of two people, expressing their feelings for one another, who happened to be incapable of breeding. That's what the gays call the rest of us, isn't it? Breeders? Don't tell me there isn't a little envy in that slander.

So, I made my way to Taco Bell, across Drumm from the Hyatt Regency near Embarcadero Center, building number 4, or as it is known to the downtown denizens "EC4".

Who was I kidding? Just a rhetorical question, to point up the fact that I thought I was just going to stroll right up to the counter in the fast food joint. After all, gay people couldn't possibly be interested in a taco. Duh! Well, let me dispel that myth. There was a line out the door and down the street.

I really had my heart set on a taco. I remembered that there is another Taco Bell on Kearny, between Bush and Pine, or somewhere around there. "Go for it" I urged myself. As I put one foot in front of another I found myself heading in that direction.

I went to the corner of Drumm and Sacramento, across Sacramento and into EC3. I walked through the ground level plaza seeing a mixture of visitors to our city and celebration attendees. I wondered what these business people, who were killing off the weekend before their return trip to mid-America, and travelers from the Pacific Rim, must think of this event. They probably think we are all crazy.

Exiting the financial district's answer to the malls of the suburbs, I returned to Sacramento Street to make the climb, up the piedmont to Kearny. As I passed the cross streets, the crowds thinned to resemble a complexion closer to what one might see on a Sunday afternoon downtown.

I was wearing Levi's and a t-shirt, hiking boots and wrap around, black framed sunglasses. I had wet down my close cropped hair before I took off on this "snipe hunt" because I was having one of those kind of hair days. I thought that those who were visiting might mistake me for someone who had something to celebrate, but, then I thought "I always liked being incognito and who cares what anyone thinks anyway?"

When I had reached my destination, as I made the turn to enter the store, out of the corner of my eye, I saw two women walking in my direction. They were walking hand in hand.

One was tall and very slim, with blond hair to the base of her neck. She was wearing a long pale yellow dress that, had it been shorter, could have passed for a t-shirt. The Levi jacket, with a Hard Rock Cafe button on the flap over the right breast pocket, that she wore over her shoulders and the clogs on her feet, finished the ensemble. She also had a pair of the now famous wrap around glasses. She looked like a product of one of the corporate firms in town and I wondered if her co-workers knew that her lover was a woman.

Her companion was shorter. Her body more feminine, the curves in the right places. Her hair was the color of a fresh bagel, but, I don't think she was born that way. It was wavy and strong which seemed to suit her. Her walk was a strut, but, she didn't mean for it to be so. She also wore a full length cotton dress, but, she had chosen the one with the deep red flower print over a light yellow background. She topped it off with a close cut, black leather jacket and red sandal-like shoes with a heel. Her hispanic features had no problem supporting the wire framed shades.

They followed me into the restaurant and stood behind me while I waited to order, which took longer than it should have. The group of Japanese girls "on holiday", who were ahead of me, couldn't make up their mind. They settled for four Pepsis and left to try to hail a cab.

Behind me I heard the latina ask her friend "Wendy, what are you going to get?" The intonation of her english painted a picture of Central America. Blondie said "What else, Lettie, two tacos 'bell grande', no meat, no beans and an ice tea. You never want to go to anyplace where a vegetarian can get a decent meal".

I got my tacos and went to the counter that faces some windows with a view of Pine Street. It wasn't long before the girls were perched on the other two stools at the counter. When they sat down I noticed that Lettie's inner forearms were terribly scared.

Wendy said "After we finish eating do you want to go down to the party?" Lettie's head began to shake from side to side as she finished chewing the bite she had taken. Wendy asked "Why not?"

Lettie looked at Wendy as if she had asked the same stupid question for the third time that day. Lettie began "Why do I need a special day to celebrate my chance to love who I want. I was a prostitute on the streets of San Salvador when I was fifteen. Sex was a way to get food. It wasn't until Manuella Quintero came into my life that I knew who I really was. Or what made me feel the passion of love."

She continued "If her father would not have been a General in the Salvadoran Army we might have been able to live our lives as normal people. When they took her away I thought I would die. When the secret police came for me I thought I would die. When they tortured and raped me I prayed I would die. The fire was bad but the humiliation was the worst."

"Now, every time I look at these scars on my arms, and remember the torch in the basement, I know it was only because I dared to love another woman. For this I need a special day to celebrate how lucky I am to be alive in a place where I can be who I was born to be? Them, your friends, all of them who bear their feelings like some kind of cross, feel they need to drag it through the streets as if they were some kind of modern day Jesus, they don't know how lucky they are. Go if you want, but I won't be a part of that circus. Those martyrs make me sick."

Wendy said "Gee, sorry I asked! You latins are so intense, but, I guess that's why I love you. I want to be where you want to be. Let's get out of here. I hear Doveskya Skitsky is having a party at her place in the Haight. Maybe we could go over there?"

Lettie said, in an strangely bubbly way, "Oh, I like her. Let's go".