Patrick gets cheers at gay pride event
Holding his 6-month-old son firmly against his chest, Andrew Liteplo pointed to the festive floats, the roaring motorcycles, and the bead-wearing marchers that passed by. Glancing down, he smiled as little Nicholas soaked up all the sights and sounds.
Alongside the tens of thousands who lined Boston's streets for yesterday's annual Gay Pride parade, the father and son stood quietly amid the carnival-like atmosphere, a ringing celebration that featured Governor Deval Patrick and his 18-year-old daughter, Katherine, who last week publicly announced she is a lesbian.
Like most of the crowd, Liteplo, 34, praised Patrick and his wife, Diane, for their unconditional support of their daughter.
Yet at an event that felt more like a carefree party than a political statement, he said that given the growing acceptance of gays and lesbians, most people expected nothing less.
"I'd almost be surprised if he weren't supportive," he said. "She's his daughter."
What only a few years ago might have been seen as a watershed moment, is now viewed as a natural parental response, many said. Four years after Massachusetts became the first state to legalize gay marriage, this week's somewhat subdued reaction to Katherine Patrick's public revelation was a true sign of progress, they said.
"Yesterday's news," Cheilane Platt, a 35-year-old from Boston said, shrugging her shoulders as she watched the parade flow through the South End.
For many, celebrating their parents' acceptance of a gay child was a bridge already crossed, a battle already largely won.
"I'm surprised that in 2008 it even matters," said Michael Stuber, a 36-year-old from Boston, as he held his 14-month-old son. "It's your son or daughter after all."
Yet as the Patrick family marched together down Beacon Street past the State House to City Hall Plaza, they were greeted with a outpouring of cheers. They paused at the end of the parade to speak with well-wishers and pose for photos.
Many parade-goers said they were touched by Katherine Patrick's courage and by her parents' unreserved acceptance of their daughter's revelation, which the parade-goers said lent a personal resonance to Patrick's fight to keep gay marriage legal.
"It proves he not only stands for something publicly, he exemplifies it in his own life," said Lexi LaGuerre, a 30-year-old woman from Boston who watched the parade on Tremont Street in the South End with her grandmother. "I wouldn't say most parents would react this way, so it's a wonderful thing. Nobody wants their parents not to love them."
LaGuerre said many of her friends had come out in the past few years, often to their parents' deep disappointment.
Katherine Patrick told her parents she was a lesbian last summer, three weeks after her father led a successful fight against a measure to ban gay marriage.
In a recent interview with Bay Windows, a newspaper for the region's gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender community, Katherine Patrick recounted her parents' understanding and encouraging reaction.
The news immediately cast Patrick, who already enjoyed strong support among gays and lesbians for his strong support for gay marriage, as a model of parental acceptance.
Many parade-goers said they were inspired by Patrick's unqualified support, even as they expressed confidence that such experiences are increasingly the norm.
"It's fabulous," said Wanic Polynice, 35, who was watching the parade arm in arm with his boyfriend, Sebastian Doremus, 32. "It's wonderful to see a father love his daughter like that. It's beautiful."
Kenneth Bennett, 71-year-old funeral director, commended Katherine Patrick for coming to terms with her identity and having the courage to declare her sexuality publicly.
"It was very gutsy of her, at such a young age," he said. Part of him, he said, is still in the closet, and his parents, who died years ago, would not have understood. For gays and lesbians who have experienced parental disapproval, or worse, Patrick's love for his daughter is deeply moving, he said.
For most of the crowd, the debate over the Patrick family was secondary. Along Tremont Street, people sipped mimosas in sidewalk cafes, danced to "We Are Family" and Madonna's "Express Yourself," and cheered the most outlandish outfits. They roared over the revving engines of the "Moving Violations Motorcycle Club," waved at young children in colorful hats, and clapped for marchers carrying signs that read "Unconditional Love for our Sons and Daughters."
As the day wore on, people drifted farther into the street to interact directly with the marchers, who handed them T-shirts or tossed them beads. Some marchers spotted friends and family and stopped to say hello, while others beckoned them to join the parade. Gradually, as the crowd gravitated into the road, the audience and the parade merged into one.
