Colour-colour diagram

Eller två regnbågsflaggor, en från -98 och en ny, inhandlad på Pride Houses Hallongrottan-filial. Mina verksamhetsområden överlappar som flaggorna, mer än de nånsin gjort förut i alla fall. Jag bläddrar i ett ex av färska fotoboken Femmes of power och en (strejt) vetenskaplig kollega stirrar oväntat ut från en av bilderna. Inom astronomin, där jag brukar blogga är vi inte längre försvinnande få hbtare, känns det som (inte heller i astrobloggosfären: ta t ex Astrodyke). När tv-reportern kom i eftermiddags för att intervjua mig om fredagens solförmörkelse så kom jag inte på någon bra kopplingsreplik, men Pride-bandet på vänster handled kan eventuellt synas i rutan på fredag morgon. Idag skulle dessutom rymdfararen Christer Fuglesang dyka upp i Parken. Jag liksom hänger ihop som person. Det är trevligt. Å andra sidan så gapar avgrundet mellan naturvetenskapen och de aktuella delar av humanioran som aldrig förr. På Hallongrottan köper jag superseriösa intersektionella tidningen Slut vars andra nummer vill göra upp med Sanningen. Inom deras område är det på sätt och vis ett rimligt projekt men skulle inom naturvetenskapen skulle ett sånt grepp snarare underminera verksamheten, åtminstone på den nivån som jag håller på. Jag inbillar mig i alla fall att det är så. Får väl ta upp saken med typ Max Tegmark eller nån.

Och så lite naket

I juni handlade jag matchande t-tröja och kallingar på Italiens motsvarande till H&M så när Bögjävlarna kallade till kalsongfest så var det svårare än vanligt att motstå. Killarna och jag har dessutom en gemensam underklädeshistoria redan. Roger sa att man kunde lita på att jag skulle komma nu när det skulle vara dekadent. Som vanligt vet man inte vad Roger menar men med en lättöl i handen och pv:n i bakhuvet låg dekadansen mest i att det inte var speciellt märkvärdigt att vara avklädd. Snacket var med folk jag kände, inte om litteratur men väl om döden och stalkers, kanske växlade vi ditåt just på grund av att vi stod utan byxor, det hade passat Bögjävel-sammanhanget (och var väl återigen något som inte fanns för 10 år sen). Kanske blev det något annat senare på kvällen när jag redan var på cykelvägen hem.

När jag skriver det här sommarpratar Martina Lowden i radio och det passar bra i sammanhanget, även om hon inte heller känns helt dekadent-på-det-där- braiga-sättet-om-det- var-nu-det-som- Roger-menade.

Ett decennium i en fika

Pride House på Kulturhuset och Stadsteatern istället för seminariecenter på Södermalmsskolan. På takkaféet skiner solen och min lilla avstickare från jobbet blir en kär återförening med gamla priderävar. Det är inte alls konstigt, Pride House har hög mingelfaktor åtminstone för mig. Nu blev det just Erik och Ingemar, och så förmörkelsefotografen med familj. Vi pepprar konversationen med 'Det hade man inte kunnat göra för 10 år sen!' och försöker komma ihåg om hiphop som inslag på Pride var helt främmande -98 eller inte (jag tror det - det var väl först 2000 då BM spelade förband till Armyn). Efteråt så kryssar jag försiktigt genom flatduon God-des och Shes entusiastiska publik och liksom med Räuberhöhle innan hade jag nog bloggat spaltmeter om dem under förra Stockholm Europride. Och att polyrörelsen ordnat 3 seminarier idag. Det hade man väl inte heller kunnat göra för 10 år sen. Istället pratar vi asteroidnedslag, läget för Gordon Brown, vad ordet 'osingel' kan tänkas betyda, och gemensamma bekantas mer eller mindre förutsägbara partnerval. Det hade man kunnat göra för länge sen men inte såhär och just här och just idag.

Bort med nostalgin

Låt oss tala klarspråk. Jag är inte lika galet entusiastisk över Europride 2008 som jag var över Europride 98. Då hade jag ju jobbat med Pride-organisationen sedan Bill Schiller kallade det allra första planeringsmötet 1996, för att sedan hoppa av våren innan och låta mindre trötta ta över. Jag var insyltad, insatt och lättad att det blev precis lika bra som vi hoppades från början.

Nu är jag för en gångs skull kär och osingel under Pride och rent allmänt sett hemskt nöjd med livet bara jag får vistas i skogen och samla bär och göra typ sylt. Å andra sidan börjar jag dras in i Pride-spiralen, det verkar redan vara på g. Jag är inte euforisk som jag var 98 eller som Niklas Hellgren var igår men nu har jag åkband och dogtag och programhäfte och kanske inte ens slutar blogga.

Monday 27 July 1998, 18.25

I went back to work, and Chris headed home to Finland, clad in his Parade steward t-shirt and dogtag so as to be recognisable for other Europriders on the ferry. I found I couldn't take my dogtag off till the commuter train had finally left Söder and Tantolunden had disappeared out of sight. Spare minutes at work went to checking for EuroPride stuff on the web - seems like this is the only up-to-date site that's not a newspaper! Think, the responsibility of it all. My coworkers all knew about EuroPride, and were pretty cool about the whole thing. On the way home I dropped in my camera films for development - does anyone have a scanner? Söder was quiet and sunny, with the odd rainbow flag to put me in the notion of going up for a coffee or a cup of herbal tea like Mark Levengood suggested. Better put mine out here.

Did I say how nice it was to run into neighbours with dogtags on? I thought I was practically alone in this housing estate, but thanks to EuroPride and good old Efva A, I now know a whole bunch of new people who live within five minutes of me, and even someone on the same street! If this is happening all over Stockholm, maybe one Pride event next year won't be enough...

Sunday 26 July 1998, 23.57

Just when you thought it was all over - EuroPride Day 9! If there's one thing this week's been good at, it was offering that little bit more when you thought things couldn't get any better. It rained in the morning, but of course it was sunny and hot when me and Ann took Chris through the dogtagger-happy streets of Söder. A family with children and a pushchair spotted our dogtags and asked us the way. I gave in to my heart (my head says I'm finished with Christianity in all its forms) and bought the Ecce Homo book.

Over to the Conference Centre to help shift chairs and generally get the place looking like a school again. We were a tired but happy gang of about ten, sharing space with artists Leif and Håkan taking down their sculptures and pictures. Everything went smoothly, even the big screens didn't seem heavy with six people carrying them, and having a few tables over in the ground floor classrooms didn't seem to matter.

Then PridePark, for the very last time. Masses of people there, dodgy pop groups on stage again, and, well, a few surprises. Kim the Dane had thought EuroPride '98 was maybe a bit too organised, and sure, spontaneity is not really a Swedish speciality. But straight out of nowhere appeared the Mr Europride competition on stage - 20-odd 'guys' to suit all tastes, selected from the day's PrideParkers. All kind of amazed to be strutting their stuff in front of such an adoring (and big!) public. In the end, despite my cheering for J-O (I'm in the queue after Erik if that's OK :-) and brilliant dancing by Stefan the Security Guard, the public's cheers for Bitch Girl Club's Mille were far, far louder than for any of the ordinary-male entrants. A lesbian Mr EuroPride '98. What could be more appropriate, or more queer?

Dancing in front of the stage, more beer, more gratuitous hugs and kisses, more photographs, more joyful organiser-types, more meetings and smiles and more of our music on the Chokladkoppen stereo, a late evening blue summer Swedish sky, Mrs Green's microphone open for all sorts of folks, and finally dancing on the tables in an expression of joy and pride that all of us who were there will remember for, oh, I just don't know how long. It's like Stockholm has finally discovered, after all these years, how fucking marvellous it is at being queer, showing it for the world, and having a really, really, good time.

That's it for this diary.

I mean that.

But in the spirit of EuroPride '98, there will be more! Hell, I might even translate bits into Swedish. But I do have to work tomorrow. Thanks for being with me this far!

Sunday 26 July 1998, 01.30

What on earth can I say about a day like this? If you were in Stockholm, you'll know what I mean. The rain stopped, and Stockholm really did do exactly the summer weather it's been doing all week, except this time all over our wonderful Parade and our amazing closing party at Skansen.

Chris and I were stewards in the parade. I got the honour (and I really mean that) of walking in front of the second section of the parade, in front of Miss EuroPride's red corvette. OK, so I got in the way of the press photographers, but what a feeling to be out there leading so many people! I really don't know how many cameras I saw, almost as many as the smiling faces, gay, lesbian, straight and all points in between that lines the route. I had a security vest on, a walkie talkie in my hand, plus of course the multicoloured sarong and Doc Martens. I think I must be out now.

We had out problems along the way, of course, but it was on the level of gaps between groups, overenthusiastic Dykes on Bikes, and J-O's car running out of petrol on Strandvägen. Chris reports that the one guy on Söder who was shouting unpleasant things quickly realised that he was in a minority of one.

That and me not seeing the rest of the parade, of course! But that was a small price to pay for the privilege of showing Stockholm how to celebrate. You know, you might have thought that we were showing strai(gh)t(laced) Stockholm what we were worth - striking a blow against homophobia and all. In fact, and in complete contrast to all other Pride things I've been on, the spectators were overwhelmingly on our side, and in fact many, many of them were actually family - GLB folks supporting their own. Marco, who was stewarding right at the back of the parade, confirmed this impression, so it wasn't just that people were watching then joining in. The Parade was for us, and by us, and with us, and there are masses of us out there.

After a mildly chaotic hour of checking dogtags outside Skansen (and meeting a lot of more or less pleasantly confused straight people who had no idea what was going on), the Rainbow Music Extravaganza got going. And no, I am not going to stop being lyrical. OK, some veggi jamabalaya would have been nice but in general - what a place! what a view! what a show! what weather! Doubtless our international guests got mildly confused when we went entirely gaga over After Dark, Jonas Gardell, Jan Hammarlund, Efva Attling, Rikard Wolff, Eva Dahlgren, and when even her the blonde one from Roxette sang in Swedish. But in a Swedish and Nordic context, these people are incredibly important for us in a way that few other places will understand. Queer Sweden is not good at everything, but it's good at gay and bi celebrities, and well, we just kinda love them to bits.

Actually we could have stopped quite nicely after Eva Dahlgren, but, well, Dana International had come all the way from Israel and she sure does know how to get a whole fieldfull of rainbow flag-toting guys and girls and guys-to-girls and girls-to-guys to jump up and down at the same time.

Finally the entire cast appeared on stage to the strains of 'This is it', threw their flowers to the audience, and, well, no one wanted to leave.

Kisses and hugs and rainbowflag blessings and smiles and a minute of silence for the people Aids kept away from us today, Margareta Winberg waxing poetical like no politician should, Imma Battaglia showing the Pope who he has to deal with come World Pride 2000 in Rome, Ann and Christina and Marco and Håkan and Elisabeth and Ingemar and the unknown lesbian who gave me such a marvellous unmotivated hug, the rainbow flags and the Swedish flags against a clear blue sky, and Kim from Denmark in SideTrack at half past twelve telling us how much he'd enjoyed the day. These things, and many, many more, I'll want to keep with me.

It was great, wasn't it? :-)