So, between Pride being yesterday here in Boston, and Father’s Day being today, I thought I’d tell you a story today of what Being Queer in the Nineties was like, and also (another) story about Dad.
To be clear, being queer in the 1990s was definitely not always a joy. But in this case… well, you’ll see.
When I was in my early 20s, my parents decided to take me and my brother on a cruise vacation. This was exciting for a number of reasons, not least because my parents were awesome to hang out with. It was always fun to spend time with them and my brother, who was then 16 and had at that point gotten into the Grateful Dead. (Jerry Garcia was still alive, then.)
If you’re new here, my Dad was a Chinese-filipino immigrant who came to the States to be a doctor (and send money home to support his 9 younger siblings). Mom, meanwhile, was born in rural upstate New York, spent her teens in Florida, and then moved to NYC after college. Mom was the one who raised my brother and me to be the progressive humanists we are, while Dad often seemed a little bit baffled by “American” attitudes.
Also, it was our first time on a cruise ship.
Everything my brother and I knew about cruises at that point we had learned from watching The Love Boat. We’d spend 4 days on a ship nicknamed “The Big Red Boat,” then 3 days in Disney World. (This was before Disney started their own cruise line.)
We didn’t know that on a cruise ship they feed you 12 times a day. Nor that it would be so much like summer camp, with social activities making you mingle with the other campers, I mean, cruisers. The four of us went to the Welcome Buffet. A couple there were wearing matching T-shirts that said “Ask Me About My Schnauzer.” (Actually I don’t remember which breed of dog was on the shirt, but let’s pretend I did.)
My father was enchanted by this. “What a smart idea! Those people wear a shirt looking for other people who like schnauzers, too! They show who they are. It’s brilliant.” Dad plucked at my brother’s tie-dyed shirt sleeve. “You must meet other Deader Headers when you wear this one!” (sic)
My brother and I agreed it was brilliant, and we were amused that Dad seemed to think wearing T-shirts that declared something about one’s self was a new idea…? As I mentioned, Dad was often a bit out of synch with American culture, but he mostly didn’t sweat it.
Anyway. Fast forward to the Disney part of the vacation. The package deal had us in some hotel off-property and Dad got up early in the morning to play golf somewhere. (Dad was obsessed with golf.) My brother and I were sharing a room. After sleeping in a bit, we got dressed to go out for breakfast with my mother.
I put on a shirt that said BISEXUAL PRIDE on it, with the overlapping pink-purple-blue triangle on it…
“Dad’s going to have a conniption when he sees that shirt,” my brother said.
“Why?” I replied. “Doesn’t he know?” My brother shrugged.
My freshman year at college, I had come out as bi to my mother very explicitly because Mom was the parent we actually TALKED to. But we expected Dad to pick stuff up by osmosis, I guess…? He was really not a talker.
Mom also took one look at me and said, “Dad’s going to have a conniption when he sees that shirt.” I again replied, “Why? Doesn’t he know?” She also shrugged, and slightly changed the subject. “Do you think it’s a good idea to wear that to breakfast?”
“Mom, homophobic gangs are not roaming the IHOP at 10 in the morning.”
Well, point of fact, there was a non-zero chance we might run into some homophobic attitudes, but I wasn’t actively concerned for our safety. And I was confident my family would quickly be convinced it was a good idea to wear it. Because that T-shirt was like a “cheat code” to get a top-notch Disney experience.
At the time, the Disney corporation was not openly supportive of LGBTQ rights. A few years earlier (1991), self-organizing park-goers had started having unofficial “Gay Days” in Orlando and Anaheim, but Disney didn’t have an official “Pride Nite” until 2023 (if you’re counting, that’s 32 years later). At the time of our story, 1993, no one at Disney was officially “out,” but many many MANY queerfolk worked there.
To quote a friend who had worked at the Magic Kingdom: “Every ‘theater gay’ in Florida ends up working for The Mouse.” The word was, wear your rainbow rings or other Pride-related festoonments. Okay, granted, rainbow rings would have been more subtle. I had chosen a shirt that said BISEXUAL PRIDE on it in large letters. I was not subtle. Maybe it would backfire.
But especially after the whole speech Dad gave about how brilliant an idea it was to wear T-shirts so you could find people like you? It seemed the perfect time to wear it.
Now, one of the things that is magical about Disney is they work so damn hard to make you—yes, you—feel like you are special, like everything is being done especially for you. Which is amazing considering that they create that experience for 48 million people a year in Orlando alone.
But my experience of going as a “marked queer” in 1993? Unmatched. Cheat code unlocked. We would be in line for a restaurant with an hour-long wait. And then a cast member would waltz up to us and beckon us over… and tell me a table for 4 had magically appeared for us.
Magically, I tell you.
Or we would be lining up to see a parade. And a cast member would sidle over and say, hey, are you interested in a better view? And take us to a roped off area.
This happened over and over that day.
Eventually my brother was like, “this is because of your shirt, isn’t it?” Yep. It was solidarity, it was fraternity. Because taking care of each other was the only way for queerfolk to make up for the times in life when we got treated worse.
Dad never did have that conniption, by the way.
He never said a word. But as I mentioned, Dad was not a talker. It’s possible he was oblivious and missed the whole thing. But Dad could also pretend to be oblivious when he felt nothing needed to be said. Maybe we didn’t give him enough credit? Years later he would tell me he was fine with it. At the time, we just let it ride.
I do not miss the days when queers had to operate in stealth to make each other’s lives better. What I know is if the right wing worldwide rolls back what rights we’ve clawed for ourselves, we will always be in the business of taking care of each other.
Happy Pride everyone, and take care of each other out there.
