I’m missing another Mardi Gras in Sydney this weekend — the biggest pride celebration in Australia — and I’m feeling really bummed about iy
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I never got to attend The Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras (the full name) as a child or a teen. There were zero queer people in my young life, but I always knew when MG was on, and through that, these people — people I was like — existed *somewhere* in the same city as me.
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I never talked about it when I was younger, never wanted to give even the slightest indication to the people around me that I was intrigued by Mardi Gras at all, because I knew that was the wrong way to be
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It’s insane to look back now on my early years attending the parade and party — the one time of year I would wear a tank top, because I was so body conscious, but something about the *extremely gay* atmosphere made me feel ok about it
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(Of course like every other pride celebration, Mardi Gras tends to emphasise muscular white bodies, so it’s not exactly great for body confidence all round)
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Mardi Gras wasnt just a celebration for those who attended — the flash, the spectacle, and the noise they made reverberated in my life on the outskirts of the city. It told me, in the biggest way, that there was a PARTY waiting for me
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Whether it’s in the parade or on the party dance floor, every Mardi Gras I’ve attended has included some insane rush of a moment when I stop and think “fuck I am so glad I’m gay”
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