It was really interesting, although I was kind of shocked at the nonchalance with which the doctor spoke about the spread of the disease. He emphasized the fact that there was only a very tiny chance of transmission and although I think his goal was to stop some of the fear and paranoia that still exists, it was not done well. By the time he was finished talking about how using protection is a personal choice, I was extremely uncomfortable. Obviously using protection is a personal choice, but I also feel like the conversation about whether or not to use protection, if we're going to have it, should be about why one would not use protection, especially in an encouner with an HIV-positive partner. The doctor mentioned that it's like a game of Russian Roulette where your chances of losing are very small and one audience member countered him by saying, "Yes, you're right, but why play Russian Roulette in the first place?" I'm with him.
Overall, however, I think the talk was educational, and I learned a lot about new drugs and options for treatment and prevention.
Strangely, I was one of two women present. Sigla has a number of groups that meet at the same time every week, including a women's group, but while the men's group, the youth group, and the HIV-positive group were all at the chat, the women were not. They didn't come.
I noticed immediately upon entering that there weren't women present, and at one point during the conversation, the doctor said, "Where are all the women? We know that this is a disease that primarily effects gay men and the women want nothing to do with it. We have to support our gay brothers." It was disturbing to me that the women's group did not choose to come. I feel like the doctor had a point in saying that the women ought to be interested, supportive, and present. He said some more troubling things about women being privileged and only wanting to deal with their own issues. Of course this often means that women left a group after being silenced by their gay counterparts or having none of their needs or concerns addressed. Still, I was in agreement with his general idea of solidarity, even with the sneaking suspicion that it only ran one way.
It's a divide that I often notice in the community. There are not a lot of really mixed groups. The majority of organizations, clubs, and bars are either gender-segregated or have sub-groups that are for men or women. I understand, of course, that there are different needs. As Marcela from ATTTA mentioned, sometimes one group needs to have the strongest voice, needs to provide the protagonists, but there's a point at which the division becomes destructive. Anyway, it is something that I have been thinking about a lot as I meet new people and speak to new groups and it was strange to be in that Sigla room and feel the divide in such a real way.
The Juventud Banner
The Sigla Banner
I was feeling rough and struck a deal with my Mom to take some time to get better. I definitely didn't want to miss Pride, so I spent the first part of the week researching, cleaning my apartment, drinking lots of fluids, and figuring out how to go to the doctor here.
One lesson that I have learned along the way is that I'm dependent on my community at home in a lot of ways that I didn't realize before this year. For example, when I'm at home and not feeling well, there are any number of people around with whom I speak on a regular basis who will notice and say something if I seem off or if I am being stupid about things. Here that is not the case. I do see people and socialize regularly but building the kind of familiarity that I had at Rhodes takes so much time. A person here might interact with me on a bad day and just think I'm a little weird (which I am) whereas at home someone would probably ask if something were wrong. Anyway, all that is to say that figuring out how to take care of myself and how to live this way, with a new community every few months, involves so much that I never would have anticipated. It has made me even more grateful to the wonderful people in my life at Rhodes and at home generally.
I took it slow, venturing out to my favorite coffee shop to work and scheduling meetings that I needed anyway, like one with my landlord to address a bug problem that came with the weather change and to ask him a bunch of questions about things in the city. Jorge, my landlord, also brought me a package slip! I was soooo excited to go get it. I also talked to a few friends in the city about where to go to the doctor and what to bring.
After lots of asking and researching I decided to go to Hospital Aleman, which is a few subway stops down from me. It's a private hospital, which is faster and more organized, and after wandering around for a bit to find it, I walked into the emergency room and was directed to a clinic where it took somewhere around 20 minutes for me to pay, get a ticket, and see a doctor, leaving with prescription in hand. It was insanely easy, not overpriced, and the doctor was very helpful and spoke Spanglish with me. He said there was swelling in my ears from bad allergy stuff, which would explain my bad hearing, and he gave me medicine and nasal spray to help with that. I headed to the pharmacy, also an easy process, and headed home feeling happy to know that while I can't control my dysautonomia, I can definitely take something to help with the allergies and ear issues.
Marielle, a friend from Couchsurfers who lives in DC, and I were supposed to go see a tango show Thursday night, but I got an email from the club that day telling me that the singer was sick. We made plans to reschedule and instead I went to Couchsurfers and talked with lots of people, some of whom I had met before and others who were new to the group. I like that it's close to my apartment, and it's a great way to meet people from Buenos Aires and from around the world. Lots of people who come aren't actually Couchsurfers (me, for example) and a surprising number are longterm residents of the city or newly relocated for work or school. Anyway, I generally make good connections there.
On Friday I went to get my package! Because it was an international package, I had to go to the central post office, which is in Retiro, quite a treck from my apartment. I have never really spent time in Retiro; aside from the central bus station, which is also there, there isn't a lot of draw to the area. But it was a nice day so I walked around for a little while and explored the parks near the subway and post office.
Plaza Canada
Train Station
The post office is massive. There are several entrances but they're marked clearly with the
purpose, which is nice. Unfortunately, that was the only part of the process that was clear.
I walked into a small-ish room with a huge line, grabbed a number, and sat down to wait. I was confused because nobody was leaving the counter with a package, but I asked someone and he confirmed that I was in the correct office. I found out when I reached the front of the line that this is the room where they take your slip. In order to receive a package, I had to go to the next room. The attendant pointed me in the right direction, and I assumed that there I would take another number.
Wrong. This was a huge hall filled with chairs, all occupied, and alternating attendants would announce numbers over a grainy loudspeaker, but I had no idea which number was mine. I had a little slip from my package, but there were at least five options on it, so I asked a couple in front of me, and they responded that they did not have any idea either.
They consulted with another couple, and they were also unsure, so one of the men went to ask an attendant and came back with help. I was sort of relieved that I was not the only one who was confused but also even more confused at the lack of instructions present in either one of the rooms.
Anyway, it all turned out fine and I left a happy camper with a package but most of my day was spent in the hall. Because the numbers were not called out in the order of the people who entered the room, the two couples that I spoke with who had both been there longer than I had were still waiting when I left. I hope they didn't have to wait much longer.
Waiting
Success!
There was no La Fulana meeting because of Pride; everyone was supposed to meet at 9am at the Plaza de Mayo on Saturday morning. I woke up and headed out, finding a pleasantly empty subway down to the Plaza.
The tents were set up in the Plaza de Mayo, bigger organizations at the center and vendors around the outside. La Fulana, Juventu FALGBT, and a number of other organizations, some political, some branches of the government, had tents setup with information, merchandise, or food. That early in the morning, we were still setting up, so I helped to put mesh fencing up and then moved on with another group to decorate the truck.
This was the first time that I had been involved in the set-up of Pride, and it was a different experience. I am glad I got a chance to see how things work from behind the scenes, even a little bit. There is a group of leaders from various LGBT organizations who have a committee to put together Pride and each organization puts together its tent, organizes and decorates its truck, and works on the details.
Mostly I tried to provide a set of hands where they would be helpful as the leaders of La Fulana had things put together and had a routine from years of organization.
We hung banners and made a big rainbow flag. Erica and Nuria, brave souls, got on the roof of the truck to hang things down the side. It was fun to see the transformation and to be part of it.
Pride day was also the day of the celebration of the Republic, so there were lots of kids running around in traditional garb singing and dancing and playing instruments. They performed at the Cabildo, on the back end of the Plaza de Mayo, and I got to hear the Argentine national anthem and see some fun traditional things. There was a general sense of a tourist performance, and some of the Fulanas commented on the touristy nature of the celebration. Candy told me that there was some kind of scheduling mixup and that normally there wouldn't be two events of that size at the same time.
The kids who were performing and their parents came by the booths a little before the fair officially started, and they loved the balloons that the Juventud were making for the parade. It was pretty clear that it was gay Pride, but none of the kids or parents that I saw seemed super phased by any of it. Some of the older performers took the sexual education pamphlets from La Fulana.
After setting everything up and sharing some sandwiches, we got ready for the fair to start, officially. At 3pm, people started showing up in big groups, and for the next couple of hours, the Plaza got more and more crowded. I took a walk around to look at everything with Ivonne and I ran into Matias, Sant, and Franco, from Gay Geeks. They pointed me in the direction of the bigger group meeting, and I got to spend some time hanging out with everyone before walking over to the La Fulana float to get reay to march.
Getting ready that morning
Erica
The Plaza
Soledad on the truck, pre-decoration
Getting the truck ready
Some of the kids celebrating the day of the Republic
Making a banner
Outside the Cabildo, where the truck was parked as we decorated
Getting there
One of the many political signs
As the fair picked up at La Fulana
La Fulana did a project where they had members write insults and experiences of discrimination on a white board and pose with them. During the fair, others could participate.
La Fulana
Hanging out with the Gay Geeks
Pablo!
ATTTA Float
I knew I was going to be "security," but I didn't know what the parade would look like in terms of space or people. I was on one side of the truck with four or so other people. Our job was to keep people from touching the truck or getting too close to the wheels. I was ready and after the parade started (1.5 hours late, in good Argentine fashion), I started marching with my side. It was immediately clear that things were not going to be as easy as anticipated. I had no idea exactly how many people there would be or how difficult it would be to keep them from wandering under the truck wheels. Seriously.
One thing that I appreciate about parades in the US that I didn't know I should appreciate is barricades along the sidewalks. This is not to say that I don't think it's fabulous that anyone can join the march in Buenos Aires but just to say that the proximity between the people and the truck and the size of the crowd was a little overwhelming, mostly speaking as someone who was told to keep people out of a certain area. At one point, a group of people made a mosh pit and used our linked arms as a pushing off point. A man from the crowd stepped out to help those of us who were making the barrier, and he walked with us the rest of the way.
By the time we got going, there was a pattern and it was lots of fun. People were happy and shouting and dancing. I sang Erasure with a group of random celebrants in colorful masks and danced, as much as I ever dance, while I was keeping folks distant from the truck.
We marched from the Plaza de Mayo down Avenida de Mayo to the Plaza del Congreso. It was a great night for the march; it had been threatening to rain all day but thankfully it held off.
When we reached the end of the march, there was a huge stage set up and there were even more people. I found the youth group from Sigla and we chatted for a while before I went to meet up with the Gay Geeks.
I had been interested to see how the lack of overt corporate sponsorship would make BA Pride different from Pride in Prague or Berlin or anywhere else, and it was evident in the organization of the groups and trucks that all of the work was done by members and for the community as a celebration and protest. There were no EasyJet whistles, no massive advertisements for alcohol or clothing brands. It was a nice difference, and I enjoyed seeing such a massive event from within the community without seeing corporate influence.
That being said, there was definitely a major and evident government presence at Pride. I don't mean in terms of police officers; in fact, the security was largely organized by the groups and there was not an obvious police presence, only the prevention officers who wore yellow vests and helped, like in the case of La Fulana, to keep the crowd at a distance.
There were, however, signs for the government everywhere. There were government organizations all over the fair. At the main stage, on the sides where there might normally be signs for whatever corporation sponsored the event, there were signs for Victory, symbols of Christina, the President.
I thought this was really interesting and learned later that there was a counter protest, a faction of the community that does not like the close affiliation with the government and wants a march without trucks and celebration, a political protest in a very traditional sense. I wish that I had been able to talk to them but in the massive crowd of people, I didn't even know they were there until someone told me later.
While I understand the issue with government affiliation, I do not agree that Pride should be an entirely solemn affair. Celebration and protest are not mutually exclusive, and the presence of so many out and proud people in one place, marching on a platform of political goals is extremely powerful.
At the same time that Pride is a protest, it also provides an opportunity for, well, pride. It's a chance to be open and happy and loud in a way that is, for many people, unavailable during most of the year.
It's the same way that I answer questions like "Why isn't there a straight pride day?"
Because every day is a straight pride day. Because straight people do not have to worry the same way that gay people do about their sexual orientation being a barrier to social, familial, and professional connections. Until this is no longer the case, it is not too much to create one day during the year where all of the stress and the worry can be overwhelmed by community, if only momentarily. In fact, it's shameful that there is only one day, but during that day, queer people deserve a chance to celebrate, to own their identities as sites of happiness and solidarity, not just as markers of difference and oppression.
It shouldn't be all about dancing, but a little dancing along the way is its own kind of protest. We refuse to be stifled.
Anyway, all that is to say that while I might sympathize with a desire to rid the march of so much state influence, I cannot fully buy into anger and solemnity as the only acceptable emotions during Pride.
I stood with the Gay Geeks watching the performances and speeches, chatting and saying hello as more people joined the group.
One thing about attending Pride at the end of my time in the city was that I could feel like a part of the community in more ways than if I had begun my time there with the march. Instead of just meeting people, I was saying hello to people, spending time with people that I knew, and recognizing faces in the crowd. It was an affirming experience in terms of my project and I was even more grateful to everyone who had welcomed me and who made sure to say hello in the crowd.
After a bit, we went to someone's apartment. We all crammed on to the bus and had an easy night talking and hanging out. It was a great way to end Pride and I left that night feeling really positive about everything and sad to know that my time in Buenos Aires was coming to an end.
This week I'm thankful for:
1. Pride and all it gives me and the community as a whole
2. The Gay Geeks, La Fulana, Juventud, and Sigla for giving me a place in the city
3. A package from home and access to good healthcare
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