The Pride that Defines Us

Bangalore’s Queer Pride last year seemed perfectly timed as the country immediately started celebrating the decriminalization of Article 377. Danish describes the duality of his ‘freedom’ as he celebrated being Queer at that momentous event.

Danish Sheikh

Exhausted, exhilarated, as I recount my weekend in Bangalore for the Pride March, I recall an incident of a television camera zooming close by as we steadily made our way towards town hall. As it honed in, and I noticed the NDTV 24X7 logo, I clasped on a mask in alarm, compelled by the thought of my parents' horrified faces seeing their pride and glory marching down the road with hundreds of fellow LGBT's (not to forget the ‘straight but not narrow’ folks).

A troubled look came across a friend's face as he questioned, "Well, doesn’t that defeat the purpose of the pride?"

I think about what he said, as I remember the numerous other people in masks that day, in various degrees of being ‘out-ed’. I have, for the past year, considered myself completely out, save for that final frontier – family. That, I conveniently relegate to the sidelines, consoling myself with the "it's not practical just yet" argument.

So what was the purpose of the pride then?

mull it over tea, and I think about it during an evening stroll. Sure, it's clear enough; it's about celebrating your identity, acknowledging comfort with your sexuality, and letting the world know: we’re here, we’re queer, and we’re not going away. But for a minute, I also think, beyond what it is about, beyond what does ‘I’ mean.

I flash right back to the moment, when our car drove up to the starting point, next to National College in the Basavangudi area of South Bangalore. I think about the rush of excitement as we hopped out, to a riotous blaze of colour. Chuckling at slogans, having my own prominent ‘Closets are for Clothes’ photographed more than once. So many faces, so many people, some familiar, most not, yet all positively radiating with that common shared frenzied energy.

And then as the rainbow flags were unfurled and the drums began to beat and everyone crowded around to hold the flags up, hold them high for everyone to see, I forgot the agenda, I forgot about who I knew and who I didn’t and what this meant.

We were here. We were together in this. We were a community. We were proud.

So then, to you, friend, can you understand why this much is really enough? At least, for now! I surely wish I could ignore my wonderfully convenient ‘practicality’ argument and tell my folks anyway. I surely wish that I’d have the courage to be able to live with them having shared that part of my identity, and be prepared for the consequences. But till that moment comes, I have this. I have the strength of a community, the shared experience of hundreds who were present that day, and of millions across the world, our common tribulations and our shared euphoria, all coming together on that one cherished day.

That, I think, is what pride is all about.

Danish Sheikh is a law student at NALSAR. He enjoys cinema, theatre and applause, when not thinking up ingenious schemes of saving the world.