AP Photo/Natacha Pisarenko
A transvestite taking part in Argentina’s 16th gay pride parade, in 2007. Until recent years, participating in the march at all was an act of defiance.
BUENOS AIRES — While Argentina was getting ready for a big protest against the government on Thursday, I found myself thinking about the more cheerful march that will fill the streets of Buenos Aires on Saturday. Tens of thousands of people are expected to get together for Argentina’s 21st annual gay pride march down the Avenida de Mayo, and though again this year they will make demands, the gathering should also be a celebration of just how much things have improved for sexual minorities here.
The first time I attended the parade, seven years ago, some 10,000 people took to the streets to ask for “equal rights.” At the time, that didn’t even mean marriage: It meant extending to the whole country a law that allowed same-sex couples in the capital to enter into civil unions. There were brief clashes with some Catholic activists who were protecting the cathedral from vandals; in previous years, the building had been spray-painted with anti-clerical slogans. A handful of people were detained.
The event was exhilarating. The only other pride events I’d attended were in the United States, where parades are the norm and spectators are just that. But in Buenos Aires, everyone was a participant. It was an act of defiance just to be present and be seen.
By last year, things had changed considerably. No more dancing in the streets with abandon: With over 200,000 people on the march, it was sometimes difficult even to walk. The demand for civil union was passé: In July 2010, Argentina had become the first country in Latin America to legalize same-sex marriage. The central issue, instead, was a gender-identity law; transsexuals were the new focal point of the community’s demands.
But now even that is outdated. In May, President Cristina Fernández de Kirchner signed a law that extends rights for transsexuals. Among other things, it allows them to change their name and sex in official documents without needing to meet any medical or legal requirements.
What’s the issue this year? “Diversity education to grow in equality.” That’s a mouthful and something of a grab bag, including demands for better work opportunities for transsexuals, the application of an inclusive sexual education law and an end to xenophobia and racism. But the vagueness of the demands illustrates how far gays have come in Argentina: They no longer clamor for banner rights; they just want to make existing ones count.
Argentina is still no paradise for sexual minorities. Fourteen people were killed last year because of their sexual orientation, according to the Argentine Homosexual Community, which says it receives 1,500 reports of discrimination each year. Such problems are more pronounced in the provinces, but even in Buenos Aires internalized homophobia is common and making fun of gay people still socially accepted.
Despite those remaining challenges, though, the benefits of Kirchner’s decision to make the rights of sexual minorities a cornerstone of her human rights agenda are evident. Critics are right to note that she took too long on the issue and only pushed it when politically expedient. Still, it’s hard to argue with the results.
Daniel Politi is a freelance writer living in Argentina.
A transvestite taking part in Argentina’s 16th gay pride parade, in 2007. Until recent years, participating in the march at all was an act of defiance.
BUENOS AIRES — While Argentina was getting ready for a big protest against the government on Thursday, I found myself thinking about the more cheerful march that will fill the streets of Buenos Aires on Saturday. Tens of thousands of people are expected to get together for Argentina’s 21st annual gay pride march down the Avenida de Mayo, and though again this year they will make demands, the gathering should also be a celebration of just how much things have improved for sexual minorities here.
The first time I attended the parade, seven years ago, some 10,000 people took to the streets to ask for “equal rights.” At the time, that didn’t even mean marriage: It meant extending to the whole country a law that allowed same-sex couples in the capital to enter into civil unions. There were brief clashes with some Catholic activists who were protecting the cathedral from vandals; in previous years, the building had been spray-painted with anti-clerical slogans. A handful of people were detained.
The event was exhilarating. The only other pride events I’d attended were in the United States, where parades are the norm and spectators are just that. But in Buenos Aires, everyone was a participant. It was an act of defiance just to be present and be seen.
By last year, things had changed considerably. No more dancing in the streets with abandon: With over 200,000 people on the march, it was sometimes difficult even to walk. The demand for civil union was passé: In July 2010, Argentina had become the first country in Latin America to legalize same-sex marriage. The central issue, instead, was a gender-identity law; transsexuals were the new focal point of the community’s demands.
But now even that is outdated. In May, President Cristina Fernández de Kirchner signed a law that extends rights for transsexuals. Among other things, it allows them to change their name and sex in official documents without needing to meet any medical or legal requirements.
What’s the issue this year? “Diversity education to grow in equality.” That’s a mouthful and something of a grab bag, including demands for better work opportunities for transsexuals, the application of an inclusive sexual education law and an end to xenophobia and racism. But the vagueness of the demands illustrates how far gays have come in Argentina: They no longer clamor for banner rights; they just want to make existing ones count.
Argentina is still no paradise for sexual minorities. Fourteen people were killed last year because of their sexual orientation, according to the Argentine Homosexual Community, which says it receives 1,500 reports of discrimination each year. Such problems are more pronounced in the provinces, but even in Buenos Aires internalized homophobia is common and making fun of gay people still socially accepted.
Despite those remaining challenges, though, the benefits of Kirchner’s decision to make the rights of sexual minorities a cornerstone of her human rights agenda are evident. Critics are right to note that she took too long on the issue and only pushed it when politically expedient. Still, it’s hard to argue with the results.
Daniel Politi is a freelance writer living in Argentina.
