Gay rites

Gazette, The (Colorado Springs), Nov 21, 2004 by BILL REED THE GAZETTE

Dorian Lord is acting like a jill-in-the-box, popping up every few minutes to chat with friends. She's too excited to sit still long. This is a big night. After all, how often to you have a chance to become an Empress? She bustles through a cacophony of sounds and sights in a tasteful pink and black gown.

More than 200 people are gathered at this formal affair -- some in tuxedos, some in dresses, some in togas, some in black leather head- to-toe, and some in neon Marge Simpson wigs and balloon-sized fake breasts.

One "woman" slides into the splits for a photo. Empress Kiki Monroe from Denver eyes her, impressed. "She even had the bikini wax."

This is the United Court of the Pikes Peak Empire, Colorado Springs' oldest gay organization. Sometimes described as the "gay Rotary club," the court is a campy, drag-queen-fabulous way to make money for charities. Just as essential, the court is an extended family that allows people to be whoever they want to be.

A night in the court reveals the awkward dance that is being gay in America -- particularly in Colorado Springs, considered by some to be the Vatican of evangelicalism with its many Christian ministries. Even in the midst of the court's revelry, the people here are constantly reminded of their precarious places in society.

The court system was founded in 1965 in San Francisco, and more than 60 court chapters are active from Halifax to Honolulu. Denver's court -- one of the most robust in the country -- started 31 years ago, and its daughter court of Colorado Springs is celebrating its 29th coronation ceremony.

The Colorado Springs chapter raises about $15,000 a year through drag shows, car washes, spaghetti dinners and the like. The nonprofit organization then gives the money to favorite charities: the Southern Colorado AIDS Project, Silver Key Senior Services, Pikes Peak Hospice, the Humane Society of the Pikes Peak Region.

The coronation is the climax of the year. The night of pomp and circumstance sports a Greek mythology theme this year that attracts Medusa and Atlas, among others. The ancient gods are gathered Nov. 6 at the earthly locale of the Sheraton Hotel on South Circle Drive.

The hotel is jumping, with the Romero wedding in one ballroom, the swimming pool full of rowdy kids, and the sports bar packed with folks watching the Colorado State University football team get mauled by Utah. In the grand ballroom is the United Court of the Pikes Peak Empire.

This crucible at the Sheraton is a microcosm of America. Wildly divergent aspects of society are thrown together -- from inside the grand ballroom some outsiders seem friendly, some curious and some angry.

A few days after gay marriages were outlawed in 11 states comes this celebration. The people here seem desperate to find a safe place, a place for community and fellowship.

That thread runs through the court's history.

"Being gay was misunderstood and less accepted than it is now," says Bob Steinborn, emperor in 1984. "People were routinely disowned by family, and we thought of ourselves as a surrogate family and support structure."

Wanna Lee learned about the court after a 1989 car accident left her in need and court members threw together a benefit. Wanna Lee is known as John Mark Hild in daily life, minister of the gay-friendly Metropolitan Community Church of Pueblo.

"It's a good way for people to have fun and feel useful," Lee says. "It really is the organization that taught me to accept myself for who I am."

As the first gay organization in town, the United Court broke down barriers and helped other gay-oriented groups get started. The social headquarters of the United Court always has been westside gay club Hide N' Seek, which opened its doors a few years before the court arrived.

"We knew Colorado Springs was a conservative place, but you really didn't have the rightwing rancor that you have these days," Steinborn says. "We're not a political group. Our motto is to have fun and make money and use that to support our community."

The Colorado Springs court spread its message, becoming the mother court to Albuquerque, N.M, in the early '90s, nurturing that chapter through its infancy.

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Straights, gays, lesbians and all those in between pass through the ballroom doors. Drag queens strut around on legs that never seem to stop, elaborate wigs and tiaras reaching so high they look like Yao Ming in heels.

A sign near the ballroom tries to keep revelers and football fans away from each other, reading "Restrooms reserved for private function. Please use restrooms located by the Pikes Peak Ballroom." Nice try.

The hotel guests who ignore the sign seem confused by the clicking of high heels and snapping of pocketbooks in the men's restroom. (Why is that woman in here? And why are her shoes facing the toilet?)

Here, gender is a fluid concept. Men look like women. Women look like men. To many, it seems funny or disgusting. Are you from Mars or Venus?