Hans van der Kamp

I had planned a three day shoot for this year’s Gay Pride to hopefully add some pictures for an upcoming Amsterdam exhibit. The first event I visited was called Grey Pride. This is a good start, I thought. Senior gays and lesbians celebrating. I will not have to feel too much out of place between those well-trained and tanned super bodies.

There were about 50 people there and most of them I recognized. Some I had not seen since the late 1970s. There was absolutely no reason to feel out of place, if not for the fact that there were about 15 photographers around.
Real professionals, oh yeah… They all carried cameras with lenses that seemed to be designed to photograph some far away galaxy. I stood there between them and felt miserable. The only thing I could think of was that I probably had the shortest dick too.

But you know, I have built up a routine over the decades, so I courageously stood between them to photograph — up to the moment when an achievement award was handed over to a woman. She was a bit shy so she moved to the back of stage. The photographers around me dropped to their knees to continue photographing from the only possible, very low, camera angle.

I was the only one standing. The last time I had shot from an angle that low in a studio; I had toppled over — much to the entertainment of those present. Very carefully I tried to bend my knees a little to lower my body, but my back protested. I cursed, turned around and headed for the bar to hastily down three vodkas, although I had sworn never to drink Vodka again. After an involuntary burp I paid my bill and headed for the Lellebel bar to come home early in the morning, surprised that I had not lost my camera somewhere.

I woke up with the thought that I was getting too old, even for the Grey Pride.

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