Johannesburg’s annual gay pride parade, Joburg Pride, happened today. I wrote a long post about Joburg Pride last year, so I won’t torture you with another one. I marched more as a participant than a blogger this year, and besides, it was just too damn hot to take lots of photos.
Dressed and ready for Joburg Pride. Although it’s not visible in the photo, I wore my mini-kilt. Unfortunately my kilt is not pink, but otherwise it was the perfect attire for a hot day of gay pride marching.
I did snap a few shots though, so I’ll share them with you and leave it at that.
The crowd.
My pink-clad marching partners, Henrike and Ruth, rock out to “It’s Raining Men” amidst a sea of pink umbrellas.
I don’t know how he walked five kilometres in those shoes. But he looked fabulous doing it.
These activists staged a “disturbance” in the middle of the parade to protest the commercialization of Joburg Pride, and also to remind everyone that South Africa still has a long way to go in protecting the rights of the LGBT community. They have a good point: Gay, lesbian, and transgender people are frequently raped, tortured and killed in South Africa for no other reason than because they’re gay.
I have to hand it to these guys – they communicated a powerful message.
Back to the fun, celebratory side of Joburg Pride: angel wings and penis balloons.
Another shot of the feather angel.
Bad-ass rainbow chicks.
My friend Tom, creator of the stellar Jozi blog Urban Joburg, prepares to drink a free shot of some pink alcoholic beverage. I love how it perfectly matches his shirt.
Down the hatch.
Ruth accosts me as I grip the beer belonging to the crazy kilted rugby fan shooting the photo. Henrike tries to pretend she doesn’t know us. Anything goes at Joburg Pride. (Photo: Jahn, the kilted rugby guy)
Best sign of the day.
We nearly melted in the 90-degree heat, but it was worth it. Gay and proud in Jozi.
How have I never blogged about 44 Stanley Avenue, the coolest shopping and dining complex in Joburg, which is only five minutes from my house?
I guess it’s wrong to say I’ve never blogged about 44 Stanley; I’ve mentioned it countless times over the years (see here and here) when writing about specific restaurants or shops that are there. But I’ve never written a dedicated post about 44 Stanley as a destination and it’s about time I did – especially now, with the holidays upon us.
I’ve been dreadfully uninspired lately, struggling to think of anything I want to blog about despite having a long list of great ideas (many of which you, my readers, provided in September). I’m finding it hard to feel positive about life at the moment. But on Saturday Thorsten and I got the chance to visit Indwe Park, an indigenous garden and sculpture park in Braamfontein, and I knew I had my topic for today.
Given this week’s political nuclear bomb blast, it feels like a weird time to publish a light-hearted post about my recent (pre-election) jaunt through the United States. But I’m hoping you’ve have had enough of the U.S. election horror show – I know I have – and are ready (at least temporarily) for some wholesome American travel adventures. If so, please read on about my four-day visit to Maine, the northeastern-most state in the lower 48, with my sister, Susanna.
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It makes me smile, when I see it.