There is more to be said about the Kentuckiana Pride celebration event. In the interest of disclosure, I am retired, a “straight” male, and a recovering Christian fundamentalist. That last element still has weight enough, even after all of these years. My upbringing is still in view even as if in a rear-view mirror.

Our day was spent at the festival, – a few acres occupied by vendors representing local “mom and pop” businesses, nonprofit organizations promoting a cause, national corporations, food trucks, and several bar concessions to facilitate the purchase of libation alcoholic, and alcohol free, etc., etc.. As you can imagine a space filled with a majority of young adults, some families, with the shared purpose of being in good company, unconditioned acceptance of modes of dress however flamboyant, and of course there was a main stage for the featured acts. The Stonewall Stage featured daylong and into the evening line-up of live music until 10 PM. If you are curious CLICK HERE.

I attempted to absorb this swirl of activity, a visual and audible feast. I noticed each person, or group of friends attempting by display of body art, or by razzle-dazzle wearing apparel, or by accessorizing bling – yearned to standout, to be recognized as one of a kind individual. Who doesn’t find pleasure in self-expression, the up-welling urge to indicate our self-conception, our dress and demeanor serving as a public clue!? And I’m no exception to this “rule”either. In my own case I favor a more subtle expression,… The point to be underlined is that style, the approach taken by every one of several thousands of individuals on the festival ground was surely the intersection of life experience, and the opportunity of circumstance. Full stop.

Every single human, each homo sapien is the present instance of innumerable intersecting threads of past events, even of ancestors long dead and unknown. You and I, yes, I mean you if you are reading this are the living expression of a destiny. It is not so difficult to be unique. To Be – the self that no one else can compare. You already are. 

It’s a sad fact, usually it takes so long to recognize this is so, to “get the message” as if it were transmitted from a distant star. Some never get the message. They try, and try, and try. A few, so desperate for enough reflected acknowledgement from others, become monstrous, using blackmail and extortionary tactics to extract attention. “And so it goes” as Kurt Vonnegut said. Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse 5 is a succinct description, the domino-like destruction inherent in the aggrieved ego. 

I will finish up this discourse. I captured a few images of a trio of female guitar-slingers, the Darumas on the Stonewall Stage. They used their instruments and vocals in more than one language (English, French and Spanish) to tell their stories.

That is what we need, so obvious, so accessible that we’ve overlooked something so ordinary. We search for a more global, and for some technological remedy for our unhappiness, for our anxiety, even for our dread. We’d like to believe that we will “science our way out” of our problems. However what’s needed: to voice and to listen to one another tell our stories. Stories which are gender transgressive, and cross-cultural, those stories too are more interesting! You have your own collection within your heart. With a doubt you surely do.

And I am certain that poetry, lyrics, the wildness and the sublimity of live music is the apex of a story telling experience. The sizzle of everything, the seduction of all beauty, the terror of evil is preserved in the form of music.

Can I risk making a new friend, someone who will tell me some of their story? I’ll take a chance that they’ll hear me voice a bit of mine? What about you?

The “revolution” (radical change) can only ignite from the grass roots and up!