Sisters drew close for the ordination of Billy Seablom. Holding hands as they stood across the street from the Georgie's Alibi bar on Third Avenue North, they huddled around Seablom, whose face was a sea of white streaked with red brushstrokes. His eyes, drowning in blue eyeliner, were bulging.
Sister Ida Slapter waved a pink wand over Seablom's head as Sister Mary Mountain DewMe looked on, struggling to keep balance on his roller skates. With that wave of the wand and the addition of a white veil, Seablom became a "novice" nun in the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence.
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ADDITIONAL CONTENT |
Click here to see video of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence at St. Pete Pride.
Click here to see the related design project.
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On the brink of the fifth annual Pride Parade in St. Petersburg, which attracted a crowd of about 40,000, Billy Seablom got a promotion in a fanciful sisterhood with a serious purpose.
Seablom, 43, has AIDS. He was about to march in his first Pride Parade, looking to prevent others from contracting the disease. To do that, he joined the Tampa Bay Order of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence. The sisterhood is a 28-year old global charity of men who put on dresses and parody nuns to promote sex education.
As they huddled around Seablom, the sisters looked like children on Halloween, dressed up and unashamed.
Repeating after his sisters, Seablom vowed to raise awareness about the gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered community, to perpetually indulge in life and to support his fellow sisters. With that, Seablom got to wear his white veil.
After the cheers, the sisters reached into a cloth bag of condoms, filling their pockets and handbags. Seablom clutched a plastic pocketbook filled with lollipops and condoms and distributed them to crowds along the parade route.
The sisterhood, he said, reminds him of what he strives to do every day: to make every hour, every minute, every second count. He came to St. Petersburg from his hometown in Dade City, Fla., to march. The sisters hold outreach programs and fundraisers for the Metro Center on Third Avenue North. Their mission is not to promote safe sex, but safer sex. There is no such thing, they say, as safe sex.
That was the message Seablom spread at the parade, where he hugged men and women and handed lollipops to wide-eyed children. He strolled past a group of protestors and waved a fan at them that read, "Hate!! Is a Crime." He has faced protestors before and, when he does, he responds with silence.
Growing up, Seablom was loud and not afraid to speak out about his homosexuality. He always knew he was gay. So, it seemed, did everyone else.
"I never even got to come out," he said. "I was just out."
Other things in his life have not been so transparent.
"I got (HIV) from someone who wasn't honest," he said. As a 21-year-old in 1985, he was in the hospital for four months with hepatitis. At that point, he says, he thought his life had ended.
Seablom says he remembers wondering why he trusted his partner. He never thought to use protection.
"Back then it wasn't a big deal," he said. "People didn't even know what AIDS was."
When he learned of his illness, Seablom came home from the doctor's office and climbed onto the window ledge of his 26th-story apartment in Hawaii. His roommate, he said, tried coaxing him to step inside.
He listened to his mother's nurturing words on the telephone. Seablom prefers not to remember that day. He can't even remember what his mom told him. Something within him, though, beckoned him toward life. Something told him living with AIDS was better than leaping to death.
The support from his family, he said, led him to combat the despair.
Now he is happy, even with the AIDS.
At the center of this happiness is his partner of nine years, Tom Wilks, who marched behind a Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence banner in the parade, leading the way for Seablom.
The couple, who met online, hike together and visit Sawmill Camp Ground, a gay camp in Trilby, Fla. They also own a small backyard barbequing catering company, Little Red Chuckwagon. Wilks said he is concerned about Seablom's health but doesn't want to let a disease corrupt their relationship.
"If two people like each other enough," he said, "it doesn't matter."
When Seablom starts to worry about his disease, and his life, he skates. The wheels set him free.
For 31 years he has roller-skated, switching between his recreational black skates with hot pink laces and his competition skates with ivory wheels. He has competed in national championships seven times and placed fourth in a world roller-skating competition in 1982.
"I'm always wild," said Seablom, laughing and throwing up his hands. "I'm more boisterous when I'm a boy than I am as a sister."
His boisterous side showed in the parade as Seablom roller-skated along Central Avenue to the "Moulin Rouge" theme song, "Lady Marmalade."
"Hey sista, go sista, soul sista, flow sista."
It was an encouraging song for the sisters, and for Seablom. He finds encouragement, and solace, in the fact that he doesn't feel the physical affects of his disease. Every other month, he visits his doctor for a check-up. And every time, his doctor reminds him he is lucky.
Seablom thinks so too. At the parade, he dances, laughs and offers hugs. Those lining the street smile and ask to pose for pictures with him. They could hardly know that beneath the makeup, beneath the wig and the blue suit with gold embroidered cuffs is a man fighting a deadly disease with hope.
