Experiences Of Northern Pride From One Autistic, Trans Queer Woman

 

 

 

My experience of Pride was surprisingly good yesterday. Of course I never approached the main stage or the dance tent or the cabaret or the fair ground. With my sensory issues it's hard to be there at all. I have to miss out on some of what is on offer. And I admit that I miss out on some of it by deliberate choice.

I'd had a difficult morning. Much anxiety and tears and I wasn't going to attempt Pride at all. I was going to Durham - to give my soft toy a birthday adventure because I'm odd like that. But I decided we'd go and see if being part of the parade was possible. I had a look but it was too crowded and noisy and I wasn't coping. There was an opportunity though for the birthday toy to meet the mayor of Newcastle and to point out to a vegan that the flag she'd been handed was representing Nando's.

Later I found myself watching the parade. That's a new experience for me. I've never watched it before. Keep together next year guys! Too many big gaps were forming.

But about two thirds into the parade a friend from Spectrum Theatre - a group for autistic adults - spotted me and dragged me (I exaggerate) into the parade. So I paraded and wished I hadn't left my trans flag at home and had dressed more wildly for such an occasion. My soft toys paraded too of course and really enjoyed it. Because I'm odd like that. Everyone was fortunate. The weather forecast was for lots of rain but the parade was dry and much of the day remained dry too.

I saw more trans flags being toted than I've seen before. And noticed more of other flags too - I hardly saw them at all other years. Bisexual, Asexual, Pansexual, Poly. It was good to see. Pride events can forget to be properly inclusive and sometimes they've been known to actively stand in the way of proper inclusion. These flags had nothing to do with the organisation of the event but each one clearly stated "We WILL be included. We are here and are not going away."

I wasn't going to enter the actual event. I knew I'd want lunch and you're not allowed to take lunch with you. No more friendly picnics are possible at Pride unfortunately. I also knew it would be very noisy and that it's always hard work to be there. But I entered the event. Knowing there would be free pens inside.

I hastily drank my bottle of tap water on the way in knowing that it would be binned otherwise. The signs say "No alcohol" can be brought in but I knew from last year that my tap water would be confiscated too.

A couple of the delights inside:

The worst thing I experienced was the stalls - from relevant LGBT+ groups, local friendly crafty people, and corporates and unions. It wasn't the stalls themselves that were bad. But the gap between the rows of stalls was just far too narrow. It can't have passed the minimum width for health and safety by much. It was really crowded and it was hard to move or to see everything and I got pretty overwhelmed with it. I know a lot of people found it difficult, including the stall holders. Northern Pride need to take a good look at this because it's just uncomfortable and it's not as if there's no space to spare to make it a much more comfortable experience for everyone.

The most enjoyable thing for me was the youth and children's area and not being turned away from it by a grumpy security guard like happened a couple of years ago when I actually had a reason to be there. I knew that a woman who does lots of woodland and craft things was there this year so I went in and made a dream catcher with her. The main tent had lots of craft activities and also had a sensory area run by Sensory Spaces an excellent local charity working with autistic children. In that area I found friends who happened to be there. It was pleasant and relaxed. It was also at the point furthest from any of the different music going on around the site.

It was also good to bump into lots of people I've met in different places over the past four years. Only one of those places, Northern Lights MCC is directly connected with queer issues. I'm fortunate to have found safety and acceptance in so many other places and to have found good people almost wherever I turn.

I spent zero at Pride. One of the stalls had free bottles of water and I was able to finish off a cake at the Northern Regional Gender Dysphoria Service stall in the health zone. That was enough to get me through. Hoorah!

I left the event just before five o'clock. Others may stay until midnight and then go and party the night away. But five o'clock is a record for me. By that time I'd had enough and I was wandering round the health zone in a "Clare has quite an obvious learning disability" kind of way that happens when my brain has really had enough. I have an IQ above 150 and have many coping strategies. But sometimes autism becomes very, very obvious.

That was my Pride. I'd thought about going to a Pride service with the Unitarians this morning but they had to cancel unavoidably. I'm glad the local Anglican Cathedral offers a Pride service too and that it isn't the only church in the city centre to hang rainbows. I don't think I can make the vigil service tonight run by MCC. That's a shame.

The picture by the way is from last year. If I'd known I'd be parading again this year in dry weather I'd have taken my placard again. And left everyone wondering what the hell those flag colours might represent.

On Successfully Locating A Pure White Dog In Newcastle

We had been having a good day.  Good enough that I've already written two blog posts about it!  We had gone out in search of a white dog - preferably one of those little white Scottie dogs, but any white dog was acceptable under the revised terms of my seventh day of photo challenges.  So far we had visited four Snowdogs and got slightly sidetracked by a view to a bridge, a 1934 Morgan car, fabulous lighting, architecture, autumn colours and the first railway locomotive workshop in the world.

Warning.  If you don't like Snowdogs, look away now.  Come back another time.  The following post is dogs.  Dogs.  More dogs.  We saw lots of dogs.  Starting with this one.

This is Essence of the North, painted by Geoff Chappell.

This one, outside the Theatre Royal, is Arthur, painted by Jeff Rowland.

And this one, at Monument, is Rosa Canina, painted by Sue Guthrie.

I did warn you there would be a lot of dogs.

And then, finally, I completed the challenge.  I found a white dog and I photographed it.  It's true that it wasn't a living dog.  And it's true that it wasn't a Scottie dog.  But it was a dog.  And it was pure white apart from its eyes and nose.

This is Roodle, painted by Isy Langhorne.

The quest was complete.  But was that enough for me?  Oh no.  Of course not.  Seriously, if you're not a big fan of snowdogs stop reading.  We continued on our journey.  Maybe there would be more dogs.  Of course there were - and there are even more than these in the centre of Newcastle.  I wish it wasn't so tempting to go and see them all and then walk to the Quayside where there are more, and then past The Sage and into Gateshead.  And then get a bus to Washington.  And then head to the Angel of The North and come back via Saltwell Park, taking care to remember to visit Gosforth too on the way home.  And then to head out the next day to both South and North Shields, take a detour to Wallsend, reverse course to Tynemouth and Cullercoats and then come home via Longbenton.  Before going back to Sunderland the next day.  Via Seaburn.  And then, because that might not fully satisfy, go on a hunt for all the little snowdogs too in eighteen indoor locations.

We walked on:

This is The Dog Father, painted by Jenny Leonard.

And then we walked into Newcastle Central Library.  I knew there was a little snowdog there.  I didn't know there would be all these:

Blob and Winefride had an excellent time playing with the dogs.  Winefride loved the colours on this one.

This winged dog is called Rio and was painted and decorated by children from Ponteland Primary School.

Both Blob and Winefride decided that this dog, painted by children from the Education Centre for Children With Down's Syndrome, was very special indeed.  Blob and Winefride are also "Same But Different."  I think they both loved seeing that message.

Winefride would probably have stayed huddled up to the dog, called Star, all day if she had been given the opportunity.

We left the library ready to go home.  But that wasn't the end of it.  On Northumberland Street we encountered another dog.

This is Hound's Tooth, painted by Damien Jeffrey.

We wandered past the shops and in one of them we spotted another pure white dog - so a photo had to be taken.

We walked on further and encountered this creature.  This is Psychedelic Snowdog, painted by Rebecca Reed.

Blob Thing wanted to continue looking for Snowdogs but I wanted my lunch.  It was already late.  He wanted to go back to one he saw at the Civic Centre but I was adamant.  And now of course he's trying to get me to go back.  He says that he only saw eleven of the full size snowdogs that day so there are nearly another fifty of them to see and he wants to go and see them.  He says we've got to go and see them soon because they will all be gone by the end of November and, he tells me, it's already November.  I think I knew that without him telling me.

One last dog.  Before returning home I took this photo.  I thought it was only right and proper that I should grab a shot of an actual living dog.  It wasn't white.  It wasn't a little Scottie dog.  But it was a dog.

I had succeeded in the revised challenge.  I had found a white dog.  But the original challenge remained in my head.  If ever I saw that little white dog, a photo could be taken.  One day.  Perhaps.

I can promise you that the next blog post will not just be a series of photos of snowdogs.  I promise.  I do solemnly swear.  Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.  I vow to thee my readers.

Still Challenged To Take A Photograph 7: A White Dog (Architecture, Rowan And A Monkey)

We were having a wonderful time in our quest for a white dog.  We had achieved a partial success in finding a mostly white dog.  While it was true it wasn't a fully white dog and while it was true is wasn't a real dog we decided that it was close to being a successful conclusion to the challenge.

We walked on from the snow dog.  I was now in an area of Newcastle that I confess I have never walked in before.  Just a few streets.  But in our years of living here I have never walked down them.

This plaque is one the side of the Boiler Shop.  Established in the 1820s this was the first ever locomotive factory in the world.  As the plaque says.  Rocket was built in this building in 1829.  Sometimes it's possible to explore the inside of the building and sometimes food and music events are held there.  I should try to join the exploration sometime.  It's impressive isn't it?  Stephenson was only 20 when the factory opened.  I am rather more than 20 and I still haven't opened a single locomotive factory.  There's still time!

We walked on from the Boiler Shop and encountered these sights.  Over the roofs I could just see the High Bridge and Tyne Bridge and just visible beyond was the roof of The Sage.

In the other direction I could make out a partial view of the metro bridge.  I wanted to get higher but that would have either involved climbing over a big fence into a locked car park or standing on a narrow wall with a fifty foot drop on the other side.  Neither option appealed.

Walking on we found a long section of the walls of Newcastle.  I hadn't even known that this was here.  The town walls were built in the 13th and 14th centuries to keep out the Scots.  They were two miles long.  Now only a few sections remain but the scale of the wall is still impressive.  These days Scottish people are welcomed into the city of Newcastle.  It's a city of sanctuary and we even welcome Scots and have forgiven them for attacking us 650 years ago.

I left the walls behind and walked a little way down a footpath.  There I was faced with a wall of colour.  Autumn is beautiful.  Now there's a statement that contains a value judgement rather than an objective truth.  Possibly.  I was thinking about beauty during my eighth photo challenge and asking whether anything is innately beautiful.  Isn't our response to the world around us culturally conditioned?  Is it genetically conditioned too?  Would we still see beauty without our cultural background?  There were many other questions too, all of which have been asked before by some of the great thinkers.

I look at a sight like this and see beauty.  I look and know I want to see the beauty more, appreciate it more fully and to never grow complacent about it.  Each day I pass things of beauty.  I want to live those things.  Each day too I pass things of ugliness, things of pain, things of sorrow.  And maybe I want to live those things too in order that the living might transform me and draw me into the place in which I join the work of transformation in the world.

Now, this blog post is about a search for a white dog.  It may not have escaped your notice that it has not included a dog yet.  Don't worry!  The dogs will come.  Unleash the dogs of white!

Newcastle is fortunate in possessing some lovely buildings.  Here's an interesting one.  The facade isn't exciting but it's fronted by this:

Some people might not like this but I thought it looked really attractive.  The students living in the block might not like it because surely it mucks up the natural light in all the rooms behind it.  From the inside, the metal covering might be a very annoying monstrosity.  But from the outside it adds to the building and adds to the range of contrasts you find when walking around the city.

One last photograph before leaving this street and the Stephenson Quarter.  A little more of the beauty of nature.  It is so easy to walk past things like this and not see them.  I want to see them.  Always.  When we lived in Wales I felt the same.  If you walked to the top of our street and turned left you could see a cliff face.  The rocks and the plants around them were staggering and we felt very fortunate to have that view.  As you walked back down our street you could see the Menai Straits and Anglesey on the other side.  Absolutely gorgeous.  It was very easy to get complacent about these views.  To forget the beauty.  To forget wonder.  Every now and again I would notice that I wasn't noticing such sights and enjoying them and would resolve to live them again.  And then I would forget.  And then remember.  A periodic cycle.

Leaving the Stephenson Quarter I walked to the Anglican Cathedral.  I knew that I would be able to find a dog there.  Yes, a dog.  This is a dog post.

This dog is called Wor Geordie and was painted by students at Newcastle College.

Blob Thing and Winefride were very happy because they had been wondering when they would be able to sit on another dog.  I promised them there would be more dogs.  But then we encountered someone who was most definitely not a dog.

Blob asked me when we would find another dog for him to sit on.  I promised him that it wouldn't be long.  He said that he hadn't come out to see monkeys.  He wanted dogs.  By the end of the day he would be very pleased.  There were a lot of dogs.

Blob asked me last night whether we could go and see every single snow dog before they are taken away.  I have refused his request.  I must admit it is something that would tempt me but there are problems with such a quest:

First, one of the snow dogs in Sunderland is missing.  It's gone.  So the complete quest is now impossible.

Second, there's the small matter of snow dog number sixty-one.  Yes.  That dog is a problem.  Because that dog is in a park at Kielder.

I have looked it up.  I could get to Kielder.  Yes I could.  That's doable.  There's a bus from Hexham.  And I could walk from the Kielder bus stop to the snow dog.  Yes I could.  That's doable.  Just about.  From the bus stop to the dog and back would be 11 1/2 miles.  Doable.  Just about.

But then I would be faced with a bigger problem.  Getting back from Kielder.  That would be harder.  A month ago it would have been easy enough to do.  On a Sunday.  Just on a Sunday.  But now it's hard.  Because now I couldn't travel back on the same day I arrived.

So unless someone wants to offer to drive me and my soft toy friends to Kielder Water for the day I will not be able to photograph Snow Dog sixty-one.  Any offers?  Please?!

Poor Blob Thing.  He'll never be able to go and find all the dogs.  I'm not doing it because I can't contemplate it without a possibility of total success.

That's a long enough post.  I promise you that the next one will be entirely dog related.  By the time I headed home with my friends we had seen a lot of dogs.  And we had taken pictures of them all.  I will tell you right now that one of those dogs was pure white and that Blob and Winefride greatly enjoyed sitting on it because it was the only furry dog they met that day.

Challenged To Take A Photograph 7: A White Scottie Dog. Plus Tarot Stories And A Vintage Car

The challenge was on again.  I wasn't feeling good.  I wanted a day of rest.  After all, wouldn't that be the truly Biblical way to go?

"On six days a woman will work to fulfill odd photo challenges and on the seventh day she shall rest."

That's roughly it, isn't it?  But I ignored the dictates of Scripture and asked to be given a seventh challenge day.  Ignoring Scripture is nothing new for me of course and my heathenism had descended into new levels of evil by the end of the day.  I attended a writing group based around tarot cards.  During the evening we were all dealt four cards as seeds for a story.  My four cards were as follows:

Card fifteen : The Devil

Card six : The Lovers

The six of pentacles

The six of wands

That's right.  I had been dealt this:

The Devil, 6 6 6

Perhaps it could only be me for whom the rules of probability would lead to such a result.

The probability of drawing the devil first followed by three sixes is 0.000175 percent.  One chance in every 570 thousand.  I won't draw any conclusions from this happy stroke of fortune.  Sometimes probability plays games which lead to more smiles than they do to meaning.

Interestingly - for another coincidence of probability - when I drew three cards from another pack earlier that evening, the second card had also been the lovers.  It's just chance.  The way we find patterns in randomness.

We had just a few moments to begin to find some story arising from the cards.  It's not a radical idea.  You can now buy story dice.  Roll the dice, look at the symbols, make a story.  They're a good idea and Blob still wants me to write a story based on the dice he rolled at Greenbelt.  Just a few minutes and my devil character - not some literal Satan - had gained a motivation enough to set a story in motion.  And then we had a few minutes - no more than five - in which to think some more or to free write from the cards.  So I wrote:

It had all fallen apart again.  He had run into his future and found it shattered, each shard piercing his palms as he hit the ground.  He sought beauty, whatever that was, and received petals already fallen, the blossom of hope dying within even before learning to walk.  [Mixed metaphor!]

He couldn't understand it.  Why did this happen?  Why couldn't he ever win?  Why did other smile as they did when he could only frown in disgust at his own stupidity?

He had learned to look downwards, head to the ground, oblivious to light.

He had learned to close his eyes, bitter against the way life sprung up from below, the way it seemed glad just for its very existence.

And in his self-accepted blindness he could not walk in joy, could not see that he already held the brightness and exhilaration of wonder within his own being.

He knew only his failure and he grew to hate laughter, each laugh a reflection of his own shamefulness.

He tried to build a kingdom.  He had put his being into it.  And it had been ripped from him.  Because he was darkness.  He had to be.  He came to believe it and as his hatred turned ...

And there the few minutes were up.  It's not great.  But it's something.  And as the start of the building of a character perhaps there is something there I can work with and continue to write.  I'm sure he would reveal his story to me as we wrote it together.

But this post isn't meant to be about the devil and all his works.  It's not meant to be about lovers and cards and the general unpredictability of things to which we impose a sense of order.  This post is meant to be about a photographic challenge.

I asked her "What shall I photograph today?"

He answered "One of those little white scottie dogs."

I grumbled.  I am good at grumbling.  Because I wasn't feeling too well and thought that staying close to home would be a good thing.

So she said, "Your bed."

That was an acceptable challenge.  I could do that one.  I haven't.  But I could.  And of course as soon as she said that I was picturing some much more dull version of Tracy Emin's bed.  My bed is not a result of staying in it for a week and only drinking alcohol.  And it's been done before now so my bed would not win the Turner Prize and would not be sold for 2.5 million pounds.  I wouldn't want my bed in an art gallery anyway.  Because I want to sleep in it tonight and because I wouldn't want to be separated from my warthog in that manner.

I sat at home for a while and my brain decided to think about dogs.  I knew that the probability of seeing a little white scottie dog would be low if I went out.  I haven't seen one in quite a while.  Of course, the probability of being dealt the devil and 666 was also low.  But at that point I didn't know that such unlikely things were so commonplace.

I sat and thought and came up with a partial solution.

So I asked her, "Can it just be any white dog?"

And she replied, "Okay."

And I said "Then Clare will go out."

The quest was to begin.  The hunt for a white dog.  Any white dog.  I admit right now that I knew exactly what white dog I was going to photograph.  But as I type this it's more fun to pretend that I didn't have a clue.  At least at times.  I left home with a list of dogs.  A plan gained by spending a few minutes online.  Not just a white dog.  But many dogs.   I will pretend not to have been in possession of that list.

I caught the metro to central station.  The general centrality of the place made it seem like it would be an ideal place to begin my search.  And yes, as I walked out of the Metro I saw what was to be the first of many dogs.  I will warn you.  There will be many dog pictures.  Similar dog pictures.

That one is called Snowline and was painted by Jim Edwards.  It wasn't long before we had found another dog.  The quest was already proving very fruitful.  It was true that the dogs weren't properly white and they definitely weren't scottie dogs but it was a good start.  This second dog is called Rocket Dog and was painted by Amanda Rabey

We left the station.  Blob Thing and Winefride seemed very pleased with the way the day had turned out.  They had been expecting to stay at home with me and already they had got to ride on two snow dogs.  But as we walked away from the station we couldn't see any more dogs.  It was as if they were all hiding.  We didn't know what to do so we decided to ask this policeman we met.  He might know where we might find another snow dog.  He might.

The policeman told us that we had to go further down the hill almost to the river and then we would have to turn left and climb, climb, climb until my big heart and my friends' little hearts were pumping away.  I took pity on Blob and Winefride and didn't make them climb up all these stairs by themselves.  Blob told me that I shouldn't have come this way and that there was bound to be an easier route to the top of the stairs that didn't involve all this downing and upping.  He was right of course, but don't tell him that!

At the top of the stairs we found ourselves in a little area that I might have called a square if it was a square.  I spotted a wall and one section of the wall was a little lower.  It was possible to look over the edge.  I was pleasantly surprised by what I found there.

This is the Metro bridge over the River Tyne from an angle I've never seen it before.  I've only ever seen it from below or a side view when standing on another of the bridges.  I realised that I was standing directly over the very end of the tunnel the trains pass through as they travel under the centre of Newcastle.

Blob Thing got very excited.  He likes bridges and loves to have his picture taken with them.  And he was even more excited when the picture of him included a train.  He is quite thrilled to have had this experience.

We crossed the square and walked through a door into a building which I had no business entering.  It had been such  fun entering buildings the previous day that I decided to enter this one.  In any case I could see from the outside that there was a really fabulous light fitting and I wanted to go and see it.

Inside we found this.  That's twice in two days I entered a building and found a car on display inside.  Is this some kind of fashion among the building owners of Newcastle?

This is, as you may know if you're a vintage car expert, a 1934 Morgan F4.  The sign said that the management of the Crowne Plaza - for that is where I was - had left it there for my pleasure.  I thought it was very kind of them to do such a thing for me but must admit I was a little puzzled that they knew I was coming when I hadn't known I was coming until I saw the lights from outside.  But the sign said "We are delighted to present this 1934 Morgan F4 for your pleasure."   My pleasure indeed.  I still wonder how they knew?  Maybe they are very skilled with their tarot cards.

Before leaving the Crowne Plaza I took another look at the lights far above me.  It was a fabulous entrance hall and walking through the door had enriched my life.

As we left the Plaza we encountered the dog that the policeman had tried to tell us about.  It was a really lovely dog.

This dog is called Fear of Emptiness and it was painted by Louise Bradley.

Blob Thing was extremely brave and climbed up onto the ear of Fear of Emptiness.

We had found a dog.  A mainly white dog.  But that wasn't good enough for my mind.  I wanted to find a pure white dog.  And that's a challenge when you're touring the local painted snow dogs.  The snow dogs are a campaign run by Saint Oswald's Hospice.  There are various ways in which they are being used to raise money for the hospice.  And it won't be long before they leave our streets and they all get auctioned.  Well, almost all of them.  There is one outside the main shopping centre in Sunderland that isn't there any more.  I don't know if it got too damaged so was removed.  Or if it got stolen.  But it isn't there so don't go hunting for it.

As for me, my challenge was not yet over.  I still needed to find my white dog.  And maybe, although I didn't have much hope of this, find my white scottie dog.

[1933 words]