Community Identity, Privilege, and Concerts

Last night was the Twin Cities GLBT concert at Lake Como. A band, an orchestra, and four choirs all performed. As people who got my txts last night may have noticed, I was sort of grumpy. In my meagre defense, I have a cold. The sort of energy-sucking cold that made my daughter wonder if I have swine flu. But said daughter was in the concert, as was my partner, Tern, and my son wanted to see it. I concluded that sitting in a bandshell on decent benches, with internet access, wouldn't kill me, so I went.

But, by 7:30, when Transvoices went onstage, I was tired and grumpy. And I was snarking about the lack of scansion and rhyme in their compositions. But I caught myself and looked -- really, really looked -- at the performers.

They were having a blast. Huh.

Someone clearly had a problem here, and it wasn't the person who'd written lyrics about the Harry Benjamin Standards of Care and set them to the Sesame Street theme. The only person in this picture with a problem was, it seemed, me.

Cut to my blog for the rest of the post.