I’m not gay. On the Kinsey Scale, I’m a 100% heterosexual male. I don’t understand what either straight women or gay men see in men. I think we’re gross. I mean, I can say such-and-such male is “an attractive person,” but I am not attracted to them. So, why was I marching in the 2019 Pride Parade in Knoxville, Tenn.?
Three key reasons:
- I’m an American who cherishes that my fellow Americans be able to feel safe when they exercise their freedom of speech.
- I’m loyal and highly committed to people who are kind (and when they are unkind I am loyal by calling them out — as I would want them to do for me).
- I ask, “What would Jesus do?” and then strive to do it.
I have a friend in Knoxville who is gay and is one of the most brave and ethical people I ever have known. Since reconnecting via social media 20 years after college, we have spent hours on the phone talking about our lives.
Brad Bull
In college, he tried to overcome his attraction to males by dating a very attractive female. While others married their opposite-sex partners, he did not. He stopped leading her on — committed to her well-being rather than his agenda. (Although I certainly understand those who thought marrying would fix things. My point is, my friend was a much more responsible person in our 20s than this heterosexual guy ever dreamed of being.)
He once got fired from a hospital job when he caught a male doctor molesting a female patient under anesthesia. He was fired because he picked up the phone and called the police rather than calling human resources. (This is the kind of policy that led to the debacle at Penn State that led to the ongoing injury of children and the demise of Joe Paterno.)
When my friend came out as gay, his parents initially responded by considering killing him and committing suicide. But he struggled on and remains a faithful son. My friend has more courage and integrity than a host of respected heterosexual religious leaders I know whom I have witnessed doing horrible things. My friend has been through quite enough pain. And then something happened recently.
A Knox County sheriff’s deputy used a church pulpit to call for the execution of homosexuals. (And some of my friends say Handmaids Tale never would happen. I hope they’re right, but it’s naïve and reckless to think it can’t.) My friend called me while I was on vacation in Florida. He said he’d been asked to drive a convertible in the Knoxville Pride Parade. He said it might be silly, but he was frightened for his safety and that of others.
I didn’t think his fears were silly at all. I thought a moment. I remembered the horrifying scene of the man crashing his car into parading protesters in Charlotte, N.C. I contemplated the personal and political implications of what I was about to say. Then I said to my friend: “I would be willing to walk beside you.”
He told me my offer meant the world to him. So, we made arrangements to meet at the parade formation area. I came home from vacation a bit faster than normal and by a detoured route to be there. I’m so glad I made it. It was absolutely one of the most powerful experiences of my life.
Here are my take-aways and observations.
While I did it for somewhat selfish reasons, I’m glad my wearing an “ALLY” shirt turned into something else. Arriving late the night before from vacation, I hustled out and bought a Tennessee-orange shirt and with black duct tape spelled “ALLY” on the front and back. My initial reason was that I’m a heterosexual SINGLE-and-LOOKING-to-MINGLE male, and I didn’t want rumors that I might be gay to impede my finding a heterosexual female.
But as I saw the faces of people in the crowd as they read my shirt and pointed it out to their friends, I saw in their eyes, “I could do that.” I could sense people’s appreciation, especially when two old friends ran out of the crowd and hugged me, or total strangers mouthed “thank you.” As is often the case in helping others, I felt I got far more encouragement and support than I gave.
“There were thousands of people smiling and waving and supporting their fellow citizens in exercising their freedom.”
I’m old school about public versus private behavior. (I boycotted Hardee’s for 15 years because I found their TV ads to be demeaning to women and inappropriate for children’s consumption in primetime ads. I’m glad they finally changed their ads. I really missed their burgers and shakes.) Thus, I was put off by a handful of scantily and provocatively undressed people.
If I were advising them, I would say, “This behavior is hurting your cause, because it scares people to think if you’re in charge you will make things vulgar. I mean, if you want to be provocatively undressed in public, go to a Christian celebration of Mardis Gras. (Yes, I’m calling out my own hypocrisy.) If you want to make a statement about love and pride, keep it clean.
(Note: Upon reading a draft of this essay, my friend wrote: “Yes! A thousand times YES to this point that you’re making! It’s bone of contention within some circles of the LGBTQ community. I have never really thought that Pride celebrated a person’s ‘sexuality.’ Rather, I see Pride as a celebration of ‘orientation’ or ‘attraction.’ It seems unfortunate, to me, that there are folks out there who appear more interested in getting a rise out of people. I believe some of these people are angry and attempting to anger the establishment. Others, I’m afraid, are simply trying to get attention.”)
I saw one person carrying a neon sign calling the crowd sinners. He had a bullhorn and was screaming at people leaving the parade. He stuck his sign in a walker’s face, and they pushed it out of their way. He then yelled, “I may be a Christian, but I will beat the crap out of you if you touch me again!” He then started yelling for the police to help him because he had been assaulted.
This was a positive because there was only one such nutcase in all the crowd I saw. In Cookeville, Tenn., a few days before, I was walking through the park where a Pride event was going on. The Pride organizers had booked the amphitheater. They were having a lip sync contest. At the back of the amphitheater, about 20 protesters were calling the attendees sinners. Two were shouting into battery-powered bullhorns.
I asked someone, “If this were the Bryan Symphony or Shakespeare in the Park, would these protesters be allowed to protest in such a way as to disturb the peace?” And, oh, is all this screaming “sinner” what Jesus would do? The only screaming I recall attributed to him was directed at the exploitative religious establishment.
Likewise, I saw two neo-Nazi skinheads standing quietly at a corner. Four police officers with bikes had surrounded them in shield formation as a prevention of things getting out of hand. Two or three parade observers were shouting at the skinheads. I started to take a picture but thought “Don’t give the Nazis the attention.”
The negatives: There are white supremacists in the world; people were shouting at them, feeding their hatred. The positive: There were only two skinheads and only two or three people shouting at them.
But there were thousands of people smiling and waving and supporting their fellow citizens in exercising their freedom. In 2018, the crowd was estimated at 3,000. In 2019: 6,000. East Tennessee heard about someone spewing hatred from a pulpit and showed up to say, “No, no, NO!” And they did it in positive fashion.
The parade had started in Knoxville’s Old City District. I already was amazed at the turnout and the encouragement of the hordes of people shouting “Happy Pride, y’all!” Then we turned left into the heart of downtown, and I was utterly overwhelmed with awe. There were so many people spilling off the sidewalks on both sides of the street that there was just enough room for the vehicles to go through.
It was what I imagine it would be like to be a UT football player doing the Vol Walk. I looked at my friend and saw the awe on his face. I patted him on the back, pointed at the crowd and said, “This is for you! This. Is. For. You!” I then went back to being high fived by the crowd and being in awe of the sea of smiling families extending warmth to my fellow children of God.
“It was what I imagine it would be like to be a UT football player doing the Vol Walk.”
The officers of the Knoxville Police Department were amazing. I shook hands with each one of them on my side of the route and thanked them for their service. They were models of professionalism. And there were sanitation workers who were minding the huge vehicles used to secure intersections to prevent the kind of vehicular attack that happened in Charlotte.
Honestly, you could tell some of the city workers were not thrilled with the subject matter of the event. But they did their civic duty. And the vast majority, even the burliest street cops, were as friendly as your favorite retired teacher working as a Walmart greeter.
The volunteers were great. At the site where the parade formed, an army of volunteers was organizing the parade, getting waiver forms signed and giving out the lime green “hospital” bracelets required to be in the parade.
The atmosphere at Market Square after the parade was so eclectic. Knoxville’s Market Square dates back to the buying and selling of enslaved people. I went to the square where the farmers’ market was going on. Here were farmers and craftspeople from all over East Tennessee offering their produce and handmade goods. And all around was a global community ranging from rainbow-bedecked, purple-haired vegans to high and tight conservatives. And everyone smiling and tasting and bartering and getting along.
To summarize:
- Community
- Respect
- Freedom
- And oh yeah: Pride.
Thanks, dear friend, for letting your expression of pride become my experience of pride in the good people of Knoxville across the social spectrum.
I’m proud to be an American beside anyone who yearns to breathe free and pursues it with kindness and civility.
Brad Bull has served as a hospital chaplain, pastor and university professor. He currently works as a private practice family therapist and freelance writer based in Hermitage, Tenn. He is a frequent teller at TenX9 Nashville storytelling events. He can be reached through his website DrBradBull.com.
Note: This was originally published as a Facebook Notes blog entry on July 5, 2019.
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