The last time I was a Panther, it was 1991 and I was the most unpopular one you could find. The Griffith Panthers were Bad to the Bone, and that went doubly so for the football players and cheerleaders. I was the weird fat kid that the students made fun of and the teachers hated. It was a fabulous time.
Last week, I became a completely different kind of Panther.
To back up just a second – I know I’ve told this story before, but it has relevance, I promise.
For years, I have gone to Atlanta Pride—sometimes in the parade, sometimes not. Two years ago, I wasn’t in the parade. It was GRL and I had a billion things to do. So, I popped over to the end of the route to hook up with my friends Jonathan and Eddie and take them to a photoshoot for the cover of In the Absence of Monsters. Well, things didn’t go exactly as planned, and I missed them. Suddenly, I was alone in a veritable sea of a million people in Piedmont Park and I had a panic attack. Jonathan and Eddie found me sobbing behind the big metal gates. The next year, they decided not to let me out of their sight and had me walk with the Panthers, a leather group here in Atlanta. I tried to explain that putting me in front of a million people with a group of guys I didn’t know wouldn’t be a great idea—but they assured me it would be okay, and it was. The Panthers embraced me with open arms and made me feel safe and welcomed.
Fast forward to March.
I moved to Atlanta, in part, to be involved in the leather scene here. It’s something I’d never had in Chicago, and after spending pride with the Panthers, I knew I wanted to be a part of that. So, I started showing up at the Eagle, hiding in the corner at first, but slowly meeting the men and women with the cats on their vests. Jonathan was instrumental in these introductions, of course, pulling me out of my hiding place and holding me in place until everyone had welcomed me. It was a scary time for me, overwhelming at first. My second weekend here was ALP (Atlanta Leather Pride), it’s kind of like Christmas with tantalizing treats. John spanking Randy, Bamm Bamm flogging Jonathan, and SIR Alan putting on a fabulous demo with canes. It was awesome.
Slowly, they got to know me, and I got to know them. Just like at Pride, they opened up their arms and said “come on honey, you’re one of us”. Rather than just smiling and nodding, running off and hiding like I usually did—I took them up on it and on Monday, July 27th, I became a Panther. They voted me in as an Associate member, I got my patch and my panther for the vest (the very same ones I had coveted on my brothers and sisters).
I finally found home and I am no longer the unpopular freak. Okay, I am a freak—but I’m a freak in a group of perverts, so it’s cool. I’m proud to be a Panther and will delight in one of the “big cats” who “play hard”. So, a huge thank you to Dale, Nitro, and SIR Steven who backed me for membership—I promise to make you proud.
