The Queen’s Funeral and the Lesbian Avengers

I woke up shortly after 5:00am and stumbled to my computer, turning on the TV for the news, as is my wont. And kazam, it’s the Queen’s funeral. I’m afraid I got completely captured and continued to keep it in the background for six hours as I did my morning ablutions and various tasks. I ended up writing a blog about fascinators, of which there were a plethora among the dignitaries in the churches, and other memories from my decade in England.

However, I cannot for one second allow anyone to mistake me for a Monarchist. To the contrary. The splendor of this imposing day sparkled with jewels and gold ravished from colonized countries. Clearly no cost was spared in marking the moment, despite the disintegration of Britain’s economy and especially of its health system. It was truly a Royal affair, that is, a let-them-eat-cake moment, full of quite excessive pomp to shore up a family who INHERIT their roles and their lands and their bank accounts. Some say princes; some say parasites.

This long day was soaked in two British colonial bulwarks: Christianity and military. These have been among the main tools in imperial British rampages and they were on proud display today. And who does military drag better than them? Feathers and gold braiding and dazzling regimental colors and drums and more drums. The choreography was mind-boggling – not a mis-step among the participants despite it being such an excruciatingly complex set of endeavors.

The guys whose specialized task was to carry the coffin around, put it in/out of the hearse, in/out of churches, up/down steps, no less, had their steps impressively coordinated, like a refined martial arts kata or a well-rehearsed line dance. And then the coffin was towed by ropes by 142 members of the Royal Navy in fancy outfits through the streets of central London as it sat on a gun carriage.

And yes, I appear to hold a minority view. So many hundreds of thousands of people lining the streets and the miles-long driveways to the castles, for a glimpse of a coffin on which sits a crown that embodies everything stinky about colonizers. And many people spent the night on the street to hold their places, and no one minded at all.

Things that stood out to me:
1) While the crowd had all the feels, none of the participants – from the King down to the drummers – showed even a drizzle of emotion – no tears, no sobs, no celebration, no amusing anecdotes. For myself, if I might paraphrase the anarchist Emma Goldman, If you can’t dance at the funeral, it must not be mine.
2) I did not see a single person in a wheelchair, not among the thousands with a role in the day or the throngs along the way.
3) The new Prime Minister fit right in with her dry monotone.
4) If it had rained, nothing would have been different.
5) I thought curtseying was no longer in vogue, that neck bowing like the boys was the done thing. Apparently everyone is watching too much historical costume drama.

My favorite part was when they circled the Queen Victoria monument at the end of London’s Mall (not the retail kind). It reminded me of the time we had the first London Lesbian Avengers demo there in September, 1994. You’ll find me right under the E in Lesbian.

Comments

[Caryl Barnes]

I watched almost all of the Royal Display yesterday and kept wondering why I was doing so. I enjoyed your commentary and agree with what you wrote. One thing: I saw two wheelchairs; there was a shorter line for people with disabilities. I was interested in that since I’m 83 and disabled. I’m sure you noticed the one and only Black boy chorister and the one and only Black adult male in ceremonial garb during the festivities. I loved the fascinators.

[Amy Rose]

Yours is the only account of the event that I have read or intend to read. The whole thing is distasteful to me and your description reinforces my reaction.