St. Petersburg gay pride parade draws bigger crowd
The chairman of the second annual Pride Promenade said its success shows St. Petersburg is starting to embrace its diversity.
By JADE JACKSON LLOYD
Published June 27, 2004
[Times photo: Lara Cerri]
Daniel Harris, 34, of Gulfport danced his way down Third Avenue during Saturday's St. Pete Pride Promenade in downtown St. Petersburg.
ST. PETERSBURG - Perched on a large, red, cardboard high heel atop a parade float, Stephanie Shippae was a vision of glamor: Lime green gown, gleaming smile, hair extensions, flawless makeup, ample bosom and happy exuberance.
"I always tell people, "God loves you, I love you and we love everybody,' " said Shippae, who performs in the Tampa Bay area as a "female impressionist."
Shippae was just one resplendent part Saturday of the St. Pete Pride, a celebration of all things gay, lesbian and transgender.
Festivities at the second event included a promenade and street festival downtown, an art gallery walk, a wine tasting and a night at Tropicana Field. St. Pete Pride concludes today with a 5 p.m. party at the Suncoast Resort, 3000 34th St. S. Recording artists Taylor Dayne will perform.
Beyond a sense of community, the Pride celebration brings a bottom-line value as well, with thousands "spending money here who wouldn't normally be here," said Promenade chairman Greg Stemm. Stemm, 43, said this year's event was more successful than last year's. He estimated 15,000 to 20,000 people came out Saturday, compared to an estimated crowd of 10,000 last year. There were 210 street vendors and about 100 entrants in the promenade.
The event "validates us as a community here," he said.
"It just reinforces the fact that St. Petersburg is a diverse city," he said. "It is really coming of age. . . . If you walk up and down the street here, you see . . . mainstream organizations supporting us."
The promenade entrants gathered in the parking lot opposite Georgie's Alibi, a bar at 3100 Third Ave. N, awaiting their turns to toss beads and guest star in one of the city's most diverse gatherings.
The Karmic Kings & Kittens took the opportunity to make a political statement. They held signs reading, "Say I do, before they say we can't." A placard on the back of their float read "Just married."
Chase Pevis, 38, of St. Petersburg, said gay marriage has softened people's attitudes toward gay, lesbian and transgender people.
"These people support us," said Pevis. "It's nothing but support. This is our family. People are getting more open and dealing with us better. Gay marriage is a big part of that."
Mothers and sons, friends and longtime lovers danced, laughed and grabbed parade goodies from the sidelines.
Lee Johnson, 41, brought her son, Michael Freincle, and three of his friends to the celebration. She knew her 16-year-old son was gay when he started the first Gay-Straight Alliance at Brandon High School.
Johnson, whose neck was loaded down with beads, was there to show support.
"It used to be a word whispered," she said. "It's not anymore. It doesn't matter."
Along the route, DeMonte Williams, 38, and his partner, Robert Nichols, 47, stood watching as one group danced by on a float followed by a church group.
"Whether they're drag queens, transvestites, same gender loving women or same gender loving men, nobody's excluded from the love of God," Williams said.
Spreading his arms wide enough to encompass the whole of Central Avenue, he added: "If you want to see God, this is him."
Small pockets of people showed up to protest the event. A group of five people along 1st Avenue N held signs with Bible quotations.
Just outside the office, Jerry Blakemore lounged against a phone bank, the words, "Go to hell. Burn." on his T-shirt.
"They supporting these people to sin," said the 19-year-old St. Petersburg resident. "They're having a big-a-- gay parade. . . . I want it to be known this s--- is not good."
As the promenade ended, the mix of humanity along Central Avenue swelled as paradegoers and promenade participants blended.
Vendors hawked everything from African bags to bank accounts. Sweaty patrons doffed their shirts and sought shelter from the blistering heat.
A self-proclaimed lesbian draped in every hue did a remixed version of You're a Grand Old Flag on stage. In the midst of it all, a group stood in two lines facing each other down the center of the street, a bright rainbow flag in their hands stretching four city blocks.
United in purpose and spirit, they held their hands and their heads high, their emblem raised to the sun.
