Last week at the conference in Philadelphia, one of my advertisers stopped by our booth and asked me to come by to answer a question his coworkers had. Their company is based in a small city.
One said, “On the way to dinner last night, we noticed that some of the street signs are made with rainbow symbols on them. Why is that?”
I looked at them puzzledly. “Seriously?” I asked.
They stared at me. “Yeah,” one said.
“It’s, uh, it’s the gay district,” I said.
“THANK YOU!” one said. “I told you guys! It’s like they’ve never been to a big city before,” he added.
I said, “You’ve never seen that? Rainbow flags? Storefronts with pretty colors? Guys who are much better looking than any guy you’ve ever met?”
“Seriously?” another asked. “Why do you know that?”
“Because . . . I’m aware of cultural symbols and I have lots of queer friends . . .?”
Walking back to my booth shaking my head, I muttered, “What did they think, it was the leprechaun district?”
Let’s start by stipulating that Philadelphia is not Seattle. Let’s further stipulate that I am woefully undertraveled and sheltered within the United States. I nevertheless find it gobsmacking that an American municipal government actually appropriated money to alter street signs to demarcate its gay ghetto(es).
Capitol Hill is widely regarded as Seattle’s “gay district,” and private residences, cars, and businesses on Capitol Hill frequently sport rainbow-themed bunting. However, if Seattle were to issue official street signs with rainbows all over Capitol Hill, they would be trashed within a week by indignant denizens who would scorn this “recognition.” Furthermore, a half-dozen other neighborhoods would squeal, “We have queers, too!”
The initial outrage would make the analogy of festooning street signs in Harlem with watermelons and fried chicken, but a more apposite objection (IMO) would be the protest against commodification. By identifying a specific “gay district,” a city hopes to attract and direct “hip” tourist dollars. Most gay communities do this to some degree, and they certainly don’t mind profiting thereby, but rainbows on street signs is too blatant by half.
So, yes, if I were visiting Philadelphia at the end of March and I saw rainbows on street signs, I would sooner conclude that cleanup after St. Patrick’s Day was lagging than I had entered “the gay district.”
Geez. When you put it that way, it looks like I oughtta take down that rainbow bumper-sticker on my car that says, “I love it when balls are in my face.”