They knew it would be a struggle. The city government has repeatedly denied their permit requests. Police in the past have stood aside while ultranationalist skinheads beat gay activists bloody -- then arrested the activists, not the skinheads. (Skinheads, unlike gays, have been permitted to march in Moscow.)
This year, the government seemed particularly incensed. Eurovision should have been a proud moment for the Russian authorities, a lighthearted celebration badly needed after bitter conflict with Europe over the war in Georgia and natural gas shut-offs.
"The Moscow government is declaring that no gay parades have been or will be held in Moscow," Sergei Tsoi, the mayor's spokesman, told journalists last week.
Gay activists threaten "not only to destroy the moral pillars of our society but also to deliberately provoke disorder, which would threaten the lives and security of Muscovites and guests of the city," Tsoi said.
A few minutes after the first demonstration was broken up Saturday, a second group of activists arrived and began to march along behind a banner reading "Equal rights without compromise." They too were immediately pounced on by police, who snatched away the banner and hauled the men off to the buses.
A man in a wedding dress arrived, only to be shoved kicking and screaming into a bus. After that, the scene melted into a sort of free-for-all, as frustrated police set upon and took away anybody who talked to reporters.
"It's a shock," a gay rights activist named Ksenia Prilepskaya said, watching policemen circle menacingly through a crowd of journalists and a few remaining protesters. "It's against Russian law. It's direct violence against us."
As she spoke, police officers noticed Prilepskaya and lunged, wrestling her toward the bus as she screamed and squirmed. Her glasses were knocked to the mud and trampled underfoot, her purse lost. Her clothes had been shredded from her body by the time she was forced to the steps of the bus; police pushed her inside stripped down to her bra.
"Scoundrels!" somebody yelled.
That was the end of it. There was no march. The vendors kept on hawking their souvenirs. A bride and a groom arrived, stared in bewilderment at the crowd of police, then shrugged and headed for a parapet to pose for the cameras, a cheering wedding party at their heels.
--
megan.stack@latimes.com
