My Colors
This is my own translation of my own essay that I wrote for Sofia Pride this year. I decided to stick to American English this time. Thanks to my friend Melody for helping me to edit the translation.
I’m making myself rainbow-colored bead bracelets for Pride, experimenting with the arrangement of the beads and with my typical terrible perfectionism worrying that this shade of purple doesn’t go well with this shade of blue, and maybe the red should be brighter, and oh, the blue beads are differently shaped from the others and stand out… Then a foreign friend briefly overcomes his disgust with Facebook to tell me in a comment under the photo of my experiments and the list of my worries that I’m complicating things unnecessarily again, and that brings me to my senses.
I finish my last experiment and after all approve two of the three versions for myself. The third design is the idea of a friend who can’t come to Pride because he isn’t a legal adult yet, and he wants to be there so badly… If he likes it in the photo, I will give it to him together with the flag from Pride that I’ve promised him. I’ve left it unfinished on purpose - I have to ask him to measure his wrist so that I will know how wide to make it for him. Let it remind him that he’ll be independent of his parents one day and free to go wherever he wants - even to a “gay” event, and it won’t matter if the whole world learns that he’s gay. And until then, I’ll be there for him, and for all the boys and girls like him who will see us in photos and videos - and maybe that will give them courage and hope that one day they they’ll be able to be themselves openly.
I decide to wear both bracelets at Pride to save myself the new trouble of wondering which one to choose. And then to my own surprise I suddenly feel festive - you wouldn’t believe how much mere bracelets of plastic beads on elastic thread can do. This year, will I manage to finally stop feeling so vulnerable when the time comes for me to walk out into everybody’s view? Is it possible for Pride day to be for me, too, a celebration and not an ordeal?
When my conscience tells me that I must be there, nothing can stop me. I walk out of my introverted invisibility and openly show my face in front of everybody - here I am, and let the journalists photograph me if they want. I’m more or less amused with the thought that everything is “the other way round” today and the onlookers don’t know about my heterosexuality. I’m grateful for the chance to laugh in the face of the patriarchal system. And still… until now, it was just a day of protest and desperate boldness for me, and I didn’t understand how my gay friends managed to feel festive. But this year I saw in some photos how other people made themselves rainbow-colored accessories according to their imagination and skills, and I suddenly got inspired to make something for myself too - and the miracle happened.
I go out in my home town with one of the new bracelets on my wrist. Nobody pays special attention to the colors, and I don’t even know if any of the passers-by is aware of their symbolism in the first place. I go to a café with my most open-minded local friend - she is straight like me. She notices that I have a new bracelet, but doesn’t realize what it is about. I remind her about the event I’m getting ready for, and she laughs and tells me that she had only thought “What fresh summer colors!” I briefly explain to her that the rainbow colors symbolize diversity; she doesn’t need much explanation about such things.
My underage friend really wants the third bracelet. I add a few more beads to make it the right size for him. I write to him that I love him as he is.
I'm discussing with friends, acquaintances and strangers on Facebook our rainbow-colored creations. We are getting into a festive mood.
Darina Ivanova
I’m making myself rainbow-colored bead bracelets for Pride, experimenting with the arrangement of the beads and with my typical terrible perfectionism worrying that this shade of purple doesn’t go well with this shade of blue, and maybe the red should be brighter, and oh, the blue beads are differently shaped from the others and stand out… Then a foreign friend briefly overcomes his disgust with Facebook to tell me in a comment under the photo of my experiments and the list of my worries that I’m complicating things unnecessarily again, and that brings me to my senses.
I finish my last experiment and after all approve two of the three versions for myself. The third design is the idea of a friend who can’t come to Pride because he isn’t a legal adult yet, and he wants to be there so badly… If he likes it in the photo, I will give it to him together with the flag from Pride that I’ve promised him. I’ve left it unfinished on purpose - I have to ask him to measure his wrist so that I will know how wide to make it for him. Let it remind him that he’ll be independent of his parents one day and free to go wherever he wants - even to a “gay” event, and it won’t matter if the whole world learns that he’s gay. And until then, I’ll be there for him, and for all the boys and girls like him who will see us in photos and videos - and maybe that will give them courage and hope that one day they they’ll be able to be themselves openly.
I decide to wear both bracelets at Pride to save myself the new trouble of wondering which one to choose. And then to my own surprise I suddenly feel festive - you wouldn’t believe how much mere bracelets of plastic beads on elastic thread can do. This year, will I manage to finally stop feeling so vulnerable when the time comes for me to walk out into everybody’s view? Is it possible for Pride day to be for me, too, a celebration and not an ordeal?
When my conscience tells me that I must be there, nothing can stop me. I walk out of my introverted invisibility and openly show my face in front of everybody - here I am, and let the journalists photograph me if they want. I’m more or less amused with the thought that everything is “the other way round” today and the onlookers don’t know about my heterosexuality. I’m grateful for the chance to laugh in the face of the patriarchal system. And still… until now, it was just a day of protest and desperate boldness for me, and I didn’t understand how my gay friends managed to feel festive. But this year I saw in some photos how other people made themselves rainbow-colored accessories according to their imagination and skills, and I suddenly got inspired to make something for myself too - and the miracle happened.
I go out in my home town with one of the new bracelets on my wrist. Nobody pays special attention to the colors, and I don’t even know if any of the passers-by is aware of their symbolism in the first place. I go to a café with my most open-minded local friend - she is straight like me. She notices that I have a new bracelet, but doesn’t realize what it is about. I remind her about the event I’m getting ready for, and she laughs and tells me that she had only thought “What fresh summer colors!” I briefly explain to her that the rainbow colors symbolize diversity; she doesn’t need much explanation about such things.
My underage friend really wants the third bracelet. I add a few more beads to make it the right size for him. I write to him that I love him as he is.
I'm discussing with friends, acquaintances and strangers on Facebook our rainbow-colored creations. We are getting into a festive mood.
Darina Ivanova