Pride Day in Tel Aviv made me proud of being human
I looked at the plane’s window with a mix of hope and anxiety. After a long process and a couple of diplomatic issues, I was, at last, leaving the Covid apocalypse in Rio de Janeiro, heading to a land of opportunity and new beginnings — with some spoons of holiness also, if you’re remotely religious, which is not my case.
It’s been three months already since I first put my feet in Tel Aviv (celebrated with some samba steps in the airport). Time flies, but unlike planes, the route is rather uncertain. Those were some intense 90 days, filled with ups and downs: like getting vaccinated at a remarkable speed, or running for the shelters while Hamas threw bombs all over the country. As I could fastly assimilate, Israel is a country of extremes.
There are people who can handle that, and others that would prefer a more monotonous or secure environment — I just believe that stability is a huge myth (or lie, if I’m using all my words) that we created to convince ourselves that everything is ok, but it’s always interesting to remember that nothing in this life is for granted: except death.
Done with the philosophical mumbling, let’s hit the facts: in a country of extremes like Israel, the good moments are simply amazing, unforgettable, eternal. Joy is fulfilling! And if you care to remember with me, there is a passage in The Book that says: “It is only with the heart that one can see rightly, what is essential is invisible to the eye’. No, it’s not the bible! I’m talking about “The Little Prince”, of course.
Ok, I promise to stop divagation: just wanted to make an entrance for what’s coming up in the next lines, build some context, you know?
Point is that living in a country of extremes, the best day I had here, so far, was during the Pride Parade in Tel Aviv.
Ok, Dani… Care to explain why that is so remarkable?
Yeah, keep up with the flow…
First, If I must remember you, Israel is a deeply religious and conservative country — a living paradox of start-up nation meets Holy Land.
Second, I didn’t want to make this text about me, but I think this information is valid for understanding the deeper purpose:
I’m a straight man.
Maybe a progressist kind? Ok.
An open-minded individual? Yeah, could be.
Just another stupid and obnoxious straight guy trying to show himself off and receive undeserved attention? All your enquiries are valid, I guess.
Nevertheless, apart from all the assumptions made, I wanted to bring a statement:
Pride Day in Tel Aviv was the best experience in this country, so far, because it made me proud.
Yeah, proud of how diverse a society can be. Proud of how human beings are, in fact, fully capable of understanding gender and sexual orientation differences. Proud to see that a whole city marched together for the right of being and loving whoever you want.
It’s not demagogy. All of Tel Aviv was there, united. Gays, lesbians, trans, queers, bisexuals, asexuals, “traditional” families with a whole bunch of kids, straight people, dogs, cats, the elder and the young, baby boomers, Generations X,Y and Z.
A fantastic-chin-dropping-rainbow-colored-heart-warming-super-inclusive event.
As a carioca, I can’t help but to associate the magnitude of Pride in Tel Aviv with Rio’s Carnaval. Most people, especially the ones that fail to deeply understand the symbology behind the most awaited brazilian week, can only perceive it as a Dionysian never ending party — which is not wrong, but misses the point.
Carnaval is about hope.
It’s about putting up a costume and evading all reality’s problems for at least four days; forgetting all the political issues for a brief moment, while reinforcing the urge to be combative against tyranny and evoking people to occupy public spaces; is a fully-aware state of anarchy, where law consists, solely, in keeping up with a fantasy scenario that we just wished was eternal; it’s about feeling that, once a year, you are bonded with people that you never seen before in your whole life; it’s about an unique atmosphere, that shines with glitter and bring people from all ages, beliefs and social status together in the most democratic way possible.
Carnaval is a powerful ritual.
A ritual of love.
It repeats every year, and makes life easier to bear, at least for those four days. Even if it’s faded to end on the “wednesday of ashes”, or “quarta-feira de cinzas”, in portuguese.
I thought I’d miss the carnival experience while away from my home country, but it just materialized to me in Pride, like an old friend that you haven’t seen in a long time, but still can always count on.
Coming to Israel, like Carnaval, is also about hope. I don’t mind using the cliches here, as this self-knowledge adventure consists of the pure belief that the future can be better, with vast opportunities, while experiencing a welfare state.
Remember that whole conversation about stability that we had in the opening paragraphs? Yeah, I’m quite sure it doesn’t exist, probably never will. But this shouldn’t keep us from fighting for a better place to live in.
Life’s only certainty is death, as Carnaval’s is the wednesday of ashes that will follow after.
But Pride shouldn’t walk that path.
Because we should feel proud about how open and accepting society can be on a daily basis. We need to ensure people’s rights to love and be loved as a routine. It’s necessary to guarantee that every single person can show their true colors, without being put at risk due to it.
That’s where pride is different compared to Carnaval. It’s not about building an alter-reality, but securing the necessary changes to the one we already live in.
The melancholic poetry present on wednesday of ashes is unfailing, we can’t live forever in a fairy tale. It’s necessary to leave fantasy behind and endure reality at some point.
Pride, in the other way, should live forever.
Death only to prejudice.
I’ll end this text with another inspiring passage of The Book:
‘The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart’
