THE HOLIDAY GAY BAR: It sat modestly along Forbes Avenue, next to the National City Bank across from North Craig Street. There were no neon lights, and the front windows were covered in cross-hatched brick. Only a simple sign reading "Holiday Bar" above the front entrance lets people know it's there. "This business goes back to a time when gay bars hid in plain sight," Honse says, sitting with Tierney in the bar's back porch, (owners of the bar since 1977) which has been enclosed since 1984. "They were here -- this was right on a main street -- but you had to know where to find it. There were no flashing lights and no sign hanging out over the sidewalk. That's what you had to do in those days." (Pittsburgh City Paper)
When I finally found the courage to BE MYSELF (I will not use the phrase coming out, because, for me, that meant I was never visible in the first place…FUCK YES, I was me THEN and am me NOW)…the only Gay Bar I knew of, was the HOLIDAY, right fucking smack dab on Forbes Avenue, the main drag from Squirrel Hill (my neighborhood), through Oakland (the college neighborhood where I went to school). Paranoia, insecurity, guilt was all mingled with potential, freedom, discovery as I parked my car three blocks north of the Holiday, thinking that no one would have the foggiest idea I was anticipating a visit inside. I paced for two hours, from the top of Forbes Avenue (The parking lot at Carnegie Tech, now CMU), all the way to the Cathedral of Learning (the main attraction of Pitt) another two blocks south of the Bar. Back and forth, and of course on the other side of the street, just to make certain I seemed like any ORDINARY person walking on Forbes Ave. I counted the cars (hoping to discover some sort of pattern), of course, my head down, and only a side-eye peek at traffic. Finally, with my gut on fire, hands shaking and a shit load of butterflies in my stomach begging to be freed, I jaywalked a block north of the Holiday Bar ran the 20 or so feet to the entrance of the bar, and without any hesitation opened the large red door, and entered.
The swoosh of the door was like a doorbell and anyone sitting inside turned their head. My heart had been beating so fast, I thought I would faint. Immediately a person looking like Diana Ross (her early days when she was still with the Supremes) and a second person looking like Tina Turner (when she was free of Ike) walked over to me. One on each side of my arm, both wearing platform shoes with wigs at least three feet tall, they cowered over me and said I am Ms. Pettis and then I am Ms. Ferguson: “You look afraid, you look new, you look like you should buy us a drink, and you look like you need a reality check.” All I could muster was an “Uh-Huh.” We drank and they each talking over one another said the following: Here is the facts, sexy man. “You were born Gay, hurrah!” “You did not change once you entered this dingy din of delights.” “Your freedom inside, must compete and win with your own fears on the outside.” “Truth is not told by naysayers, it actually is provided by Mother Nature,” adding “It takes a serious woman to make things work.” If you let the lies of others command your own facts you permit them to let you play the fool. Each kissed me on the cheeks, and in unison said, next time we will teach you how to kiss a man on the lips, and they flittered off to the back of the bar.
It is Pride Month; I need never forget all pieces of my history as a person among other things being born as a homosexual. TRUTH must be able to THRIVE. TRUTH can and does set one FREE. TRUTH used as a con is a LIE. TRUTH hates to be asked to fight for its EXISTENCE, but for TRUTH to EXIST, all of us must fifth for it. We all emerged from our own cocoons, to become the person we are at this moment, but at this moment does mean all of our TRUTHS have been told!
