You're Not Santa

When I was a kid, there was a woman who I always saw around town, who dressed and acted like a man. I can only assume that she was a lesbian. I have to say, it took balls to dress like that, and be the only lesbian in a small town back in the nineteen fifties. It must have been hard to be the only gay in town.

Saturday was 'Wilton Wonderland' day on our main street. There was a small Christmas parade, and a tree lighting ceremony, along with caroling by the Gay Men's Choir. It was nice, but it got me to thinking. Maybe Wilton Manors has reached the tipping point wherein it is too gay. Of the hundreds of people strolling up and down the street, there were only a handful of families with children. At the far end of the street, a forlorn Santa Claus waited in vain for the children to come and get their photos taken with him. When a couple of children did show up, they got red carpet treatment, and got to visit with Santa for as long as they wanted.

I guess I understand why families would be put off by our towns Christmas festival. One store front had a hunky "Santa" in nothing but red underpants sitting in the window, attracting a large crowd. And as nice as the caroling was, as soon as it was over the music switched to loud, gay dance club music. Meanwhile, drag queens in their best holiday wigs seemed to come out of nowhere, scaring me, and the few children who were still around.

I don't think it's a good idea for people to only live with their own kind. That's how prejudices start, and xenophobia sets in. It seems that our little town, which was quite different when I moved here nineteen years ago, has become a gay ghetto. I wish it was a little more diverse, but at least it's a ghetto with cute shops and good restaurants.