A Flaunting of Dykes

Many years ago, in August 1984, in anticipation of the upcoming the Gay Pride March, several friends and I tried to think up a slogan for the banner. We weren’t an organized group, just some friends, Rachel Epstein, Dorrie Brannock (now passed), and a few others whose names I’ve forgotten. We wanted to do something different in the parade. Since most banners we had ever carried fell in the general category of “Women Against” something, we thought it would be fun to think up a slogan that was a bit irreverent, funny, or less predictable. We thought and thought, but our old habits of oppositional thinking seemed to defeat our purpose.

Finally, I asked if they wished to hear my only venture into Japanese haiku poetry. They said, with a decided lack of enthusiasm, “Well, okay.”  I carefully began to prepare them, as I had prepared others before them, for a recitation of my meaningful three-line poem. In serious tones, I introduced the theme of coming out, the pain, the wonderment, the triumph: “One day you’re standing on the earth,” I said to the converted, “and the next day you’re standing on the moon, looking down.” Then, after an attempt at a serious pause, I recited with real feeling, “Yikes, I’m a dyke.”

Perhaps their understanding of poetry was limited. I admit my haiku structure was imperfect. But after some thought, they conceded my poem might do as a slogan. First, we rewrote it, from an understated, individualistic, contemplation on my dramatic lifestyle change, to a collective flaunting of lesbianism.

Our new version was longer, a joint celebration of coming out, converting fear of the individual into a threat from the pack. The new version proclaimed, “Yikes, we’re dykes. Yaba-daba-doo.” Not as melodic or original as Meg Christian’s song Leaping Lesbians, but what the hell. On a large lavender banner, we painted our slogan, and on Gay Pride day, we marched it proudly down the street.

We didn’t know what to expect from the crowd or our lesbian and feminist sisters. We were richly rewarded. Marching directly in front of the serious banner for the food bank, and following behind banners of lesbians and gays for or against this or that, our slogan had a profound effect on the onlookers. They would look at the banner, read it, and do a double-take. Usually we would be rewarded with a gasp of laughter or sometimes an open, gaping mouth. We even pasted together a spur-of-the-moment little song, something like “Yaba-daba-doo, we’ll have a gay old time. “

On the political side, as expected, we received some criticism. And strange criticism it was, being political ourselves. Several women said, “But you didn’t say anything,” and we would repeat, “Yikes,” with a pause, “We’re dykes. Yaba daba doo.” My favorite was, “But what do you stand for?” We simply repeated our slogan. One official solemnly told us we couldn’t win a prize, because we hadn’t registered as an organization. 

Over the years, I’ve been in many parades behind many banners, but I’ll never forget marching down Beach Avenue in downtown Vancouver, behind that silly slogan, and watching the faces of the bystanders.

Photo by Rachel Epstein and Lorri Rudland