We can make anything a thing, including bad weather.
Memorial Day weekend, aka DC Black Pride, is now behind us, and in true fashion, we turned a gloomy forecast into sunshine. The Weather Girls themselves accurately predicted the forecast because it was definitely raining men—hallelujah! Off-and-on drizzle and bouts of showers could not keep the thousands of patrons from showing up and showing out for the multitude of events dominating the three-day weekend. Of course, the only thing I’m focusing on was the abundance of niche parties catered to the Grown & Sexy crowd.
One thing I can say about Gen X and older Millennials is that our musical tastes are ever-evolving.
I wrote a piece last year asking the question of whether one can age out of having fun. It was inspired by an Atlanta Pride event where social media keyboard warriors pretty much condemned anyone over the age of 35 to rocking chairs and crossword puzzles. This year’s Pride felt as if promoters were intentional about creating spaces for the 40-plus crowd. More importantly, they answered my question with a resounding NO—you are never too old for fun and community.
I arrived in DC late Friday afternoon, and after checking into my hotel room, I connected with friends and we headed out to a venue for a meet-and-greet event. The music was supreme, the vibes were relaxed and inviting, and surprisingly, the drinks were not watered down. I felt good. There was no bad energy, and my two-step garnered a little perspiration, dampening my NY Yankees fitted. It was then that I noticed something so affirming, which would become the trend for the entire weekend. More on that later.
Saturday started with breakfast, complete with sausage (some bacon too), scrambled eggs, coffee, and laughter with friends. We eventually separated for a bit due to prior commitments and recovery from the night before. That bounce-back these days takes a little longer. By nightfall, it was time to spritz on some cologne and prove to myself that I am an introvert with extrovert tendencies.
The evening’s fun was located at The Green Lantern for a Big Boy Pride party. There was a chill in the air, and I experienced the only line I would stand in that weekend. Luckily, it only lasted a few minutes. My days of spending hours in a wraparound-the-corner line just to be packed into a sardine can are long gone.
Unfortunately, once we got inside, I quickly saw a scene I’d experienced many times before in my twenties. There may not have been a long line to get in, but the room was packed. My anxiety quickly set in, but I managed to get to the bar and have a couple of drinks. As I found a small spot to perch and scan the room, I noticed that this DJ truly knew his audience. He played the hits, songs we remember from our twenties, and some newer stuff. One thing I can say about Gen X and older Millennials is that our musical tastes are ever-evolving. We can vibe with the old and the new.
We as a community don’t always like to talk about the fact that, even among skin folk with a shared orientation, discrimination is real.
This was the second Big Boy event I’ve attended. The first was last year during Pride, and both times provided me with an incredible and memorable experience. This go-round, I was especially grateful that this event existed in the first place. We as a community don’t always like to talk about the fact that, even among skin folk with a shared orientation, discrimination is real. There was no body shaming here, however, all were welcomed into this safe space.
Despite the standing-room-only atmosphere, I was having an amazing time. I was pushed and bumped into several times, each interaction followed by an “excuse me,” a smile, and comments like, “This is crazy, huh?” The scene was caring and fraternal, and I was in a happy place. My people-watching game was on steroids, and the feeling of a certain something returned. Stick with me here.
After spending a couple of hours in a space that would make Marie Antoinette’s corset jealous, we opted to attend another Grown & Sexy event, this time catering to house music. It was located at The Strand and, most importantly, there were no lines. After paying the cover charge, I walked down the stairs into the dark yet intricately decorated space, complete with an illuminated bar, dance floor, and ample seating.
After paying for my overpriced Blue Long Island Iced Tea, I surveyed the dance floor and witnessed something most of us say is missing from the younger generation—DANCING! It was a House music lover’s paradise, but I found myself thinking that it’s a genre whose love and support may end with us. Could it be that younger folks never believed House music offered escapism and freedom in an often conservative and unforgiving world? They didn’t have some of the struggles we had, so perhaps the need for release from life’s challenges, particularly as it pertains to SGL men, is no longer required. I’m open to being wrong about that, but something tells me I’m not far off the mark in my assessment.
After running into longtime friends and former colleagues, it was time to call it a night. It was back to the hotel for R&R in the form of buffalo wings and fries—the much-needed “I’ve been drinking” recovery meal.
Sunday Funday proved to be just as laid-back and chill as the name implies. To my surprise, I got a workout in, and later in the afternoon, my friends and I walked the streets of Georgetown for a little shopping.
Our shaved heads or well-groomed salt-and-pepper hair and beards are evidence that time has moved us along while granting us the agency to remain unapologetically fly and dapper.
The evening would meet us with our last event of the weekend featuring a mature crowd, this time held at the Dacha Beer Garden. The music was the right kind of loud, playing the songs that assured you the night would be filled with a good time and maybe opportunities. The event took its time building a crowd, but once it did, the space was a sight to behold.
There was a sea of beautiful Black bodies in every hue, height, and size. It had to be one of the best-dressed events I’ve attended in a very long time. A definitive reminder that mature men simply dress better. The outfits were carefully selected and led with personal style rather than fleeting trends. The color palettes were vibrant, and the fashion choices of some were clearly designed to be conversation starters.
Two espresso martinis in, my buzz integrated with the intoxicating vibes in the room. I was submissively present and, in that moment, so proud—of us. We’re still here after overcoming so many systems designed to destroy us. Some of our friends and loved ones never made it this far. I was aware of the magnitude of that privilege, which brings me to the joyful trend I’d been falling in love with all weekend long.
Black gay men of a certain age are still beautiful and desirable.
We are still pursuing dreams and living out our career aspirations. We learned a long time ago that the families we chose were paramount to our happiness and survival.
The laughter we’ve shared over the years—and even today—is responsible for the perfectly etched lines adorning our faces.
Our shaved heads or well-groomed salt-and-pepper hair and beards are evidence that time has moved us along while granting us the agency to remain unapologetically fly and dapper.
The mature men I connected with during DC Black Pride were no longer focused on being seen.
We exist in a place of empowerment that can only come from a life that has been lived.
Our walk is laden with the confidence of no longer seeking validation from those who don’t see our Black boy joy or our worth.
Our swag, our way of living, is an exclamation point on the fabulous lives we’ve earned and built for ourselves.
Give us lemons, bad weather, or condemnation, and we will make a cocktail that is refreshing and liberating.
