The first music concert I ever attended was Heart. I *heart* Heart, and it was a great performance. In general, though, I don't do concerts that often. (The exception being our annual pilgramage to Wolf Trap to see the Indigo Girls with our friends.) Sometimes we go with friends, and sometimes it's just Suzanne and me. I hadn't met Suzanne back when I saw Heart, though. Nor when I saw k.d. lang.
In case it isn't obvious, I do have something of a preference for lesbian musicians. My initial introduction to k.d., however, came from my mother. And it was before either k.d. or I had "come out." I believe the first time we ever heard of k.d. was on a Connie Chung interview, which aired when I was still living at home. She played snippets of several of k.d.'s songs, both recorded and live, interspersed with casual interview questions. My mother was blown away by k.d.'s rendition of Roy Orbison's Crying. She also seemed to enjoy a medley k.d. recorded with Kitty Wells, Brenda Lee, and Loretta Lynn. Believe me, I know k.d. is a bit of an odd duck, but one thing is true: the woman has pipes. She really can sing. Even my daddy likes her.
So, fast forward to 1992. I'm now a recently-acknowledged lesbian, in a new relationship. My then-girlfriend and I hear k.d. is coming to Houston and think it would be nice to take my parents to the concert. Both of my parents seem pleased by the idea.
Did I mention k.d. had just come out? The audience was full of lesbians: Old, young, tall, short, butch, femme. The atmosphere would've been phenomenal - if only I weren't with my parents. My parents, good Bible-thumping Republicans dealing with their "baby girl" deciding to leave her husband and pursue a relationship with a woman. k.d. cracked lesbian-oriented jokes throughout the performance. The lesbians sitting right in front of my dad were practically humping each other in their seats. I was mortified. I wanted to scream, "I'm not like that, Daddy!" (Yeah, right, like I'm not into PDAs.)
All these years later, I think sometimes we homos have a tendency to exploit venues where we feel safe and welcome. Since societal norms still prohibit much same-sex hand-holding, kissing, or hugging in public, we jump on any opportunity to do so. In lesbian bars, for example. And certainly at concerts of lesbian artists. I've seen (and initiated) similar PDAs at Indigo Girls, CommonBond, and Melissa Etheridge concerts.
I don't feel it's a bad thing. Just leave your parents at home.
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6 comments:
My mom to a concert? with Me? No, I think not. This is so weird. I had kd in a continuous loop most of the day yesterday at work. I *discovered* her two years ago quite by accident, flipping through channels and stumbling on a video-whew.I simply and instantly fell in love, again. Music more than Calgon..takes me away.
I can imagine few things more cringe-worthy than being with my parents, my mother particularly, amid lots and lots of homos. My mother thinks anything much more than a sexy smile constitutes public sex.
Scout is forgetting (or ignoring) our taking MY parents to see Cheryl Wheeler (after she had just come out unbeknowst to us). It wasn't as rowdy as k.d. but I had many many cringe moments.
I miss the Indigo Girls Wolftrap concerts. When I left D.C. they had just settled there. (After a number of good years at the DAR Hall.)
As to PDAs...I wish I had fewer hang-ups about them.
Maybe that's your "southern sensibilities" showing, Sporks.
The image of your father sitting behind two lesbians humping each other is just too much for me. I can't decide if he would eagerly observe or look at the ceiling wishing he was somewhere else!
I'll go you one better. When I was ten, my mother and I had tickets to a show in New York's Greenwich Village. On the gay Pride parade. Picture a frightened looking woman escorting her child amidst men wearing chaps.
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