BijouBlog

You are sitting with your family at Easter, watching The Ten Commandments. You will notice that it's so very G-rated, so very Hollywood semi-Bible-based Inspirational. There is no question that Mother Angelica and Pat Robertson would heartily endorse this movie.

Who? What? Where? 

Why would this story make the front cover of the then fledgling gay newspaper, The Advocate, in September 1967? 

 

 

 

The 1960s may have been swinging and sexually liberating for some heterosexual segments of the population (were there any openly gay hippies?), but a gay person could still get arrested for kissing a member of the same sex in public, could not join the military (which could be a way to avoid the draft, then going on because of the Vietnam War), and could be fired from a job because of his/her orientation. 

I attended Chicago's forty-fourth annual Gay Pride Parade, mostly to wait for the Leather Pride float sponsored by Touché (it was practically at the end of the line-up; I wonder why?) Standing with a friend in an area away from the crowds at the barricades where we could both smoke, I noticed less gay bar floats (the older, at this point, community fixtures like Baton and Sidetracks showed up; more welcoming religious organizations (they pretty much marched together en masse, a stunning effect which should silence the holy haters like the Westboro Baptist Church); more schools including Nettlehorst, a local primary school; less politicians (though the really key figures like the Governor and the Mayor showed up, pretty much a given these days); but, overall, many groups, even nonpolitical ones, emphasized marriage equality given the recent decision on DOMA by the Supreme Court. 

A 1960s gay publication called Drum (issue number 22, undated, but probably 1966) published by the Janus Society of America, displayed a keen sense of humor in its features called “Gay Moments in Advertising” and “Gay Moments in News Coverage.” Given that life for LGBT citizens in America during that supposedly liberating time (for heterosexuals, that is) was a life of secrecy and oppression, many gay-related venues resorted to “drag” or “camp” as a way of sublimating feelings of fear and shame.