On the fence - David Atlanta

I live my life on the edge. Not in the rock-star rebellious way that was my first Pride celebration back in 1983, at age 18, though I thought the "I'm different, and you'll never understand me" attitude was cool at the time. It's a different kind of edge.

As early as birth, I popped out on the cusp of Aries and Taurus. The edge. I was born in the first year after the Baby Boom and before Generation X. The edge.

As a toddler, my Mom held me on her hip at a campus rally against the Vietnam War. The same day, my Dad performed ROTC drills and returned home wearing the same uniform people yelled at during the rally. The edge.

My whole life, I've felt blessed and cursed by seeing both sides of almost every issue. I sit on the fence and watch many battles fought hard and with validity from both sides. I empathize with — and pick out the grains of truth from — both arguments.

From early fights when my parents were married, to less scarring battles like the months of entertainment I call the Barrack and Hillary Show, I watch opposing factions and balance two emotions: sorry for the people who won't listen to each other, and jealous that they can argue so strongly for one side and stick to it.

Not that I don't hold strong opinions — ask either of my exes — but my beliefs are based on staying open to arguments that challenge them. Opposing ideas are not always mutually exclusive, and there's the rub.

But the good news on my dual-personality disorder is that common ground, resolutions and compromise come naturally to me, and the ability to (usually) remain unbiased led me into the career I love so dearly. Being a middleman serves the great tenant of journalism: let the people decide by simply presenting the facts.

The fact is that pride rocks – and sucks. Like seeing both sides, it's a disease and a gift. My best friend calls these "Mike statements," and yes, my exes would agree that it's a frustrating dichotomy in interactions with me.

But sometimes, both sides of an argument are true. So sue me. Better yet, just shoot me. Imagine how it feels inside my head.

I go into all this to spark rational conversation among you. Let out your agreement or disagreement. Both are valid, whichever you choose.

So Pride sucks because I've questioned the word "community" when it comes to gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people for a long time. A community suggests people who all face similar circumstances, are of the same mindset, or even live in the same neighborhood. We don't.

And notice I spelled out what some call GLBT or LGBTQ (Though there is disagreement as to what the "Q" is for, and there's an "I" coming to an alphabet soup near you soon). As a writer, I cringe when I hear these acronyms trying to tie a bow around so many people. It gnaws at me more when someone starts a sentence with, "As a GLBT person," because that is humanly impossible.

Think about it. Even if you could convince me that we are a community based on a common struggle (and I would argue that we are discriminated against at varying degrees for varying reasons that do not necessarily "make us one"), there is not an individual who can be all four G,L,B and T. One person landing two of them is entirely rare.

I've written and said it before, and here we go again: there are as many different kinds of queers as there are kinds of people. And honeys, we can't even get a quorum amongst ourselves. It'd be like asking for a unanimous decision from the entire world. Check Bitch Session to see what I mean.

So why even have a Pride?

Here’s the thing : Pride shines a spotlight on that very diversity. Despite our differences, we must find commonality. Not just among each other, but with society as a whole.

That's the core of my argument for equality: Not that we're a community, but that everyone, in all our beautiful difference, deserves the same rights and responsibilities. Diversity is a good thing, and once a year, so many of our colors, inclinations and political leanings come together and celebrate. That’s why Pride rocks.

I wish more straight people were there, and an increasing number are. Maybe one day it’ll be for everyone, and we can really call it Pride, not Gay Pride. It could be, as it should, about personal pride in our own variances and similarities, not a lie about group-think.

Agree? Disagree? Good. That's your true Pride in a nutshell.

Speaking of, I’m very proud of David , and this week’s edition in particular. We wouldn't be us if we didn't lay out the low down on all there is to do this week. It's a guide to Pride we're sure you'll reference again and again.

But even better, flip through this, our largest issue ever, to read valid viewpoints from our regular contributors and even some readers — from Pride Committee members to Radical Fairies — who share their thoughts and opinions. To read them, click on the red headlines on the left: "Festival FAQ," "Why We Fight," Marching For Pride," "Spy vs. Queen," "Pride before Power," and "Showy & Impressive."

Go ahead, live on the edge, and give each and every one of them a chance. And as always, let me know your own ideas.

Reach Mike Fleming at editor@davidatlanta.com.