Learning to be Proud

So last weekend I made kind of sudden plans to get approximately eight months’ worth of social outings in. To be honest, I didn’t really even make plans. But I ventured.

It was what I want to call Seoul Pride but is actually called the Korea Queer Culture Festival and on Saturday afternoon there was a parade. I had never been to anything of the sort and figured it would be a different opportunity as my first out thing to do. So I thought I’d go down, check it out, and go home. Hour, hour and a half probs. In the event, I was there like four (it may not sound like much to you, but it was ages for someone whose maximum socializing is typically under an hour daily).

The first thing was that it was raining. Raining to the point where I abandoned the idea of taking my raincoat in favor of only an umbrella, which I typically abhor (because I’m a Washington snob). So I get to Seoul Plaza, where everything is happening, and it’s raining. Good thing I have an umbrella. Then it’s raining really hard. Because monsoon. And the nature of crowds+Keegan+umbrellas is that I get soaked because there are so many umbrellas and most of them end up stabbing me in the neck at some point and gushing rain down my back and shoulders. But whatever, being soaked meant I wasn’t too hot (which I definitely would have been otherwise). By the time the parade started, about two hours after I arrived, it mercifully stopped.

The second thing is that I ran into a coworker and her friends. As I said, I had made no plans and didn’t really have any expectations. There were some booths, a pretty good sized crowd, and loud music. Not really my scene, was planning on making an appearance and jetting. After I had browsed all the stalls and picked up a rainbow fan from France (I think it was the embassy handing them out, there were several Western countries in attendance) I was heading back to the subway when, in the middle of the crowd, I saw someone I knew. So I attached myself to their group for a while, did some more browsing of the stands, and ended up– surprise– marching in the parade.

The third thing is that there was a protest, though it was admittedly small in accordance with the event in general. As we slowly made our way from Seoul Plaza onto the street, there was a large-ish stationary float thing and the first protest signs I had seen in both English and Korean. I recognize that I say this from a place of great and multifaceted privilege, but I felt strangely wonderful when I saw it. I can’t really describe it, I just smiled and almost laughed. I felt kind of giddy. I’d never been personally protested before and I didn’t expect that to be my reaction. But I guess that it just felt good to know so deeply, with truly every atom of my being, that loving Jesus and loving myself is good and right and complementary.

Overall, I think it was an excellent experience. I didn’t really know what to expect, both because I had never been to anything of the sort and because we’re in Korea. But my general feelings were that it would probably be smallish and restrained-ish but that if there were any out queer people in Korea, they’d be there. It was a decent crowd, I guess, though the parade only blocked off half a street along its little route. It was enough to make it into a Huffington Post video and article, so that was kind of cool. There are plenty of other little details I want to fix in my memory (for example, the zillion dragonflies hanging out) not really because it’s a memory I want to cherish (I was underwhelmed) but because it’s a memory I want to remember.

The reaction to last week’s post was not what I expected. Well, to be honest, I wasn’t sure what I expected. There was a part of me that figured other people would get what I was talking about but another part of me somehow imagined that I was the only one, that somehow the stream of life had stranded me in some wayward eddy.

I am relieved that the latter was not the case. Hearing from a number of people how much they identified with what I wrote felt empowering, in a way. I’ve had a couple conversations with different people in the past while talking about similar topics–the difficulty of finding friends, of feeling like you belong, the fear of being left out. I confessed to an adult in my life that I often feel like I’m better friends with people than they are with me, if that makes sense, and she responded by saying that she felt that way too sometimes.

It’s liberating to realize that there is some element of universality in our experiences. I don’t want to dwell on it too heavily here, perhaps at some later date, but I did want to take a moment to recognize how important it is to talk about things that are hard to talk about. When we share ourselves with others, I think we will often find that the sharing doesn’t end with the self.

In stating a similar sentiment, with much sincerity, John Green addresses his love for fiction by saying,

I understand in the abstract that I am not alone but reading good fiction helps me feel un-alone in, like, the deepest ways. It makes me feel like even my inexpressible fears and demons don’t separate me from humanity.

That also neatly sums up my views on reading.

If my post last week could help you feel any of that, in any small measure, then I am honored.

And as for the rest of it… here, queer, not alone.

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