But if you know where to look, they yet tell a story all Houston should be proud of, for here, in one of America’s great cities, thousands of gay people just like me only braver, forged lives of dignity and optimism across many decades, and did so before it was safe to even reveal one’s true colors, much less wave a banner proclaiming pride in them. The signposts of an earlier era are receding from our visual landscape as society becomes a place where gay people can be themselves wherever they are. My anchor during this uncertain summer has been the reminders of a secret and fading geography of gay Houston peaking out from maps, from faded signs and on plain-looking street corners that more and more Houstonians forget ever existed. Sign up for the HouWeAre newsletter here. We want to foster conversation and highlight the intersection of race, identity and culture in one of America's most diverse cities. Nor is it emanating from the obvious and refreshing ease with which so many LGBTQ+ people have with their sexuality these days - a near miracle for any who knew the terror-bit terrain of earlier eras. The strength is not flowing from the raucous parties I know are happening in some corners of the city this weekend. Now, I find myself freshly 50 and soaking up all the affirmation I can get as I sail into the uncharted territory of middle-aged vulnerability. Maybe I felt I did not need that strength, not since I came out as a young adult so long ago. But as I drive the streets of my adopted city of Houston this summer and look upon the bright colors of the Pride banners waving in the sun, I sense support of a kind that I’ve rarely before bothered to acknowledge. Death and disease and aging attend any life, in any era and in any place. None of those things is unique to me or even to the pandemic, which has claimed over 600,000 lives in America. It’s been nine months since my father died, for instance, and my world hasn’t quite rebalanced itself, even as it continues to be rocked by my partner’s struggle with illness, and increasingly, new and unsubtle reminders of my own mortality. Many of us are also still tallying personal losses, too. It also comes as the city and most of America continues to work out profound tensions exposed by the disproportionately high number of COVID deaths among Latino communities, the killings of Black Americans including George Floyd and Breonna Taylor and the simmering sense of danger felt by too many Asian Americans. This season of celebration arrives at a pivotal time for Houston, as we finally emerge from the 15-month lockdown that left so many on edge. The big march has been postponed till September, another consequence of the pandemic, but Houston’s queer nation - in all its varied and sometimes confusingly complex expressions - will have no shortage of opportunities to flirt and frolic and fly its many-hued flags. This weekend marks Houston’s pride festival, as anyone driving through Montrose will instantly affirm.
Jerry Click, HP staff / Houston Chronicle Show More Show Less The Gay Pride Week Parade proceeds along Westheimer in July 1979, three years after Houston’s first, attended by former Mayor Annise Parker.
Bill Thompson, HP staff / Houston Chronicle files Show More Show Less 2 of2 The rally, sponsored by several gay and womens rights groups, began about 8 pm in the parking lot of The Depository, a bar at 401 McGowen and Bagby. Bryant was in Houston to perform at the State Bar of Texas dinner at the Hyatt Regency. Actress Liz Torres speaks at rally gathered to protest singer Anita Bryant's outspoken stand against gay rights.