Category: Pride

Joining in Protest? Readers Respond

A country, united in grief, gathers to mourn the death of its citizens at the hands of terrorists, and proves to the world that they refuse to live in fear.

Black men and women, marching to draw attention to discriminatory voting laws, gather on a bridge and stare down white police officers armed with billy clubs and tear gas.

Hundreds of uniformed police officers, mourning the death of a fellow officer, turn their backs on an elected official they blame for inciting violence against one of their own.

Throughout history, we gather. From the Boston Tea party to the Arab spring, from sit-ins at lunch counters in the 1950s and 60s to the Occupy movement of today, from Stonewall, to Ferguson, to countless other protests big and small, men, women, and children join together—in protest, in solidarity, in mourning, in triumph—finding solace, strength, and solidarity in public union.

Mom’s last letter mentioned the importance of the Stonewall riots to the modern LGBT civil rights movement. In June of 1969, a group of gay men and women, led by several drag queens, decided that enough was enough after police carried out a routine raid on one of their favorite gay bars—the Stonewall Inn—in New York’s Greenwich Village. New York state law at the time required that citizens wear clothing “appropriate” to their gender, so after the couple hundred patrons were lined up and police checked their identification, several drag queens and women dressed in mens clothing were arrested and led outside to be taken away.

In his book The Gay Metropolis: 1940-1996, Charles Kaiser details the events of that night. Kaiser quotes Deputy Police Inspector Seymour Pine, who led the raid, as saying, “ The homosexuals were usually very docile, quiet people. But this night was different.”

According to Storme DeLaverie, a cross-dressing lesbian (whom some credit as starting the riot when “the cop hit [her] and [she] hit him back”), “The police got the shock of their lives when those queens came out of the bar and pulled off their wigs and went after them. I knew sooner or later people were going to get the same attitude I had. They had just pushed once too often.”


On Christopher Street in front of the bar, trouble erupted. Tired of the sporadic raids and humiliation, customers reached a breaking point. Impromptu chants rang out. Bricks, beer bottles, and garbage cans were hurled by the protestors, and garbage cans were lit on fire. Hundreds of onlookers joined in, having been awoken by the early morning ruckus in the streets. While waiting for reinforcements, the police conducting the raid and arrests were forced to retreat back into the bar, fearing for their safety.

Protestors gathered for two more nights of protest. The poet Allen Ginsberg, present for the second night, thrilled “Gay Power! Isn’t that great!” and remarked that, “The guys [inside the now re-opened Stonewall Inn] were so beautiful. They’ve lost that wounded look that fags all had ten years ago.”

After Stonewall, the LGBT community began to work together as a cohesive unit, forming new activist organizations, starting newspapers devoted exclusively to issues of the gay community, and commemorating the riots that started it all with annual gay pride parades, first in New York city, and then, over the years, around the world.

Clearly, the Stonewall protests have served the LGBT community well. As direct action, it sparked a drive to change discriminatory laws and social norms that is still thriving today. As a symbol, the riots have served as an important cultural landmark, providing inspiration to members of the community—used to living quietly and secretly in the closet—to come out into the light.

For all I owe to Stonewall as a member of the LGBT community, I have a hard time attending those yearly commemorative events. The Pride Parade makes me feel slightly uncomfortable and foolish. Perhaps it’s just my introverted nature, but my passion for LGBT rights doesn’t translate easily into public demonstrations, replete with banner carrying, speeches, and chants. Had I been in New York City in June of 1969 (and not in my crib in Buffalo), I’m not sure I would have joined the throngs in the streets demanding justice. But I am so thankful that many did just that.

While I’m conflicted about joining the crowds, I’m not conflicted about joining the fight. There are several aspects of my life that are, at least in part, about protest. Supporting gay and lesbian led families hoping to adopt, helping a group of students start a Gay-Straight Alliance, or even just being an out gay high school teacher all have political, public, demonstrative qualities to them. They are not the banner waiving kind of protest, for sure, but they are done in community with others and are motivated by injustice. That, I believe, is the very nature of protest.

So, I’m the quiet protest type. What about you? This week, we are asking readers to respond with their own stories of protest—big, small, loud or quiet. We want to hear from you about public demonstrations where you took the bullhorn and rallied the crowd, and singular moments when nothing needed to be said to make your point. Tell us about how you felt, what motivated you to act, and what the impact of your action was on others in your community.

Please share in the comments section. As always, we would love to have you follow our blog on WordPress. You don’t need to be a member of WordPress to do so; just click the FOLLOW button below, enter your email address, and you will receive our posts in your inbox. You can also friend us on Facebook, or follow me on Twitter.

The Line from Stonewall

Dear Christopher,

freedom ridersLiving long has its rewards. (It’s problems too, but we won’t go there.) During my lifetime I have seen several movements that brought sweeping changes to our country. When I was growing up the Freedom Riders were making their dangerous journeys down South to integrate restaurants and everything else. They were brave and noble and made a huge impact on so many of us growing up in that era, both black and white. The nation was changed radically by the whole Civil Rights movement. We saw in the papers and on TV white people in the South shout horrible epithets at African-American school children trying to integrate schools. It could not leave one unmoved. When I started teaching in a mixed race school system I saw first hand both the racism and the need for change.

How it saddens me to see these same issues rise to the fore yet again. But to have the conversation in a supposedly post-racial society is important. Racism remains alive. Some of the opposition to our president seems to have no basis in reason, but a knee jerk emotional racism, perhaps unrecognized.

As a teacher it disturbed me when my wonderful African-American male students would tell me how they were harassed in stores. Dad and I had male colleagues of color who told us they were stopped and questioned in their own suburban neighborhoods. I met with Black parents who told me they had to harshly punish their children to prepare them for a larger society that would judge them because of the color of their skin.

Police and teachers, like other civil servants, get the brunt of the blame. But it goes much deeper. It is built into the societal system. Yes, those underpaid over worked civil servants can do something. But the constructs of a racist society need a fundamental re-ordering. Not only these killings of unarmed Black males tell us something is very wrong, but the high incarceration rates of men of color. Bad schools seem to begin a pipeline of African American youth right into prison. When we in the U.S. have higher incarceration rates than even South Africa we have to do something drastically different.

Isabella and I saw the demonstration in front of Westlake Center. I wish I talked to her more about it. Too focused on shopping I guess!! It was small, composed of young people. But haven’t young people always been on the cusp of change? The demonstrations for Civil Rights, the demonstrations against the Vietnam War, even the Stonewall riots and subsequent gay pride actions were largely made up of young people. That gives me hope. We do need change. Maybe the young will lead us.

But a social movement that had the most impact on our family was the movement for gay rights. Recently I read about the Stonewall riots and their aftermath. I am amazed how awful it was for gay people before drag queens and gay homeless kids started fighting with police that day in 1969. The police were the perpetrators of stonewallviolence against gay people, but they were also part of a larger society that turned people out of jobs and even hospitalized or imprisoned them for being gay. The FBI collected information on gay government workers and had them fired. Senator McCarthy’s infamous hearings did the same. It was a dangerous time to be gay. But the street protests begun there on Christopher Street started a movement. Started a way to be gay and proud.

The line begun at Stonewall to this day makes our lives as a family so different. Maybe in the bad old 50’s and 60’s we would have lost you as a son. We would not have you in our lives because you would feel a need to be closeted. Yet, here we are, ready to celebrate a family Christmas, in provincial Buffalo, with family and friends clamoring to see you and your family. I wish I could thank those Stonewall rioters. They have cleared the way for our family.

While it’s easy to blame police, and maybe they deserve some blame, but also we have to look into our society and our selves. Bigger changes have to be made. And while homophobia has not disappeared, nor has racism, some real changes can and should be made. Laws outlawing discrimination cannot change people’s hearts, but they certainly can change behavior. And that is a great start.

Love, Mom

Rocking the Bus at Pride

Dear Mom,

When I was in school getting my Master’s degree and teacher certification, things were different from when you and your friend Mike were teaching, but perhaps not by much. It’s true that 2001 was a post-Ellen world and the heyday of Will and Grace, two cultural markers of the shift in attitudes towards the LGBT population.

But when I spoke with teachers who identified as gay, anxious myself to know what it was like to be an out public school teacher, I found that many feared reactions from their administrators and parents. Some worried about losing their jobs, and one spoke about having the word faggot spray painted on the outside of his portable classroom.all families poster

Towards the end of my teacher certification program, a lawyer who often represented teachers and teacher unions came to speak to our class. In the discussion of many legal issues faced by teachers, he touched on the issue of homosexuality. He was of the opinion that new teachers should not be out of the closet. According to him, experience had shown that although anti-discrimination laws in Seattle included protections for sexual orientation, you just never knew how your supervisor felt about openly gay teachers. “Don’t give them a reason to nail you for something small and petty that they might otherwise be willing to overlook as a new teacher,” was what he said.

Despite his warning, I was not interested in going back into the closet, even if it meant risking my job. Although I didn’t come out as a student teacher, during my first teaching assignment I did come out, very deliberately to staff, and somewhat obliquely within the first month to students. (I will never forget hearing from the school secretary about an exchange she overheard between two students; one said that she had heard I was gay. The second said “Yeah. So what? If you have a problem with it you can take it up with me.”)

After my first year of teaching, I decided that I was going to come out to students on the first day of class. I wanted to get it out there, not leave students wondering and whispering. Also, I wanted to show my students—whether gay, straight, or questioning—that being gay is nothing to be ashamed of, and that like their straight teachers who could proudly talk about their personal lives as a way of getting to know students, I could do the same.

Flash forward 12 years and I still come out on day one. I doubt there are students who don’t know I’m gay because by junior or senior year, I’m sure they’re well aware. Maybe there are some who are taken by surprise, but if so it doesn’t seem to bother too many. This is a bit surprising given the large number of Mormon and immigrant students and families in the community.

Over the course of my teaching career there seems to have been a seismic shift. Sure some teachers still struggle with whether or not to come out (not every LGBT staff member in my building is out to other staff or their students), and certainly some that are out struggled with how and when to make their sexual orientation known. For students, many are still harassed and bullied because of their sexual orientation or their perceived sexual orientation. Often students I know will wait until college or beyond before coming out. And still, even in 2014, I hear the F word—faggot—tossed around way too easily.

pride flag

But although the climate is not perfect it has gotten better. At my large, suburban high school, several student athletes are out, a male couple attended last year’s senior prom, and we have a thriving and active GSA. Some of the strongest student leaders in the school are part of the ASPEN (AIDS/HIV Student Peer Educators at Newport) program, which in recent years has expanded beyond AIDS/HIV education to include awareness around diversity and sexual orientation. This past year as a staff we had training related to transgender issues, and began a concerted outreach effort to support transgender students.

I am proud to play a small role in helping schools continue to improve. For the past four years, my friend and colleague Lisa and I have facilitated a training for new teachers at the University of Washington. We talk to these novice middle and high school teachers about safe and inclusive classrooms, schools, and curriculum in regards to sexual orientation and gender. It is a comfort to know that the teachers of tomorrow, those who will be teaching my own kids and grandkids and the children of my community, will be much more in tune with how to make sure the classroom is more inclusive of all students and families, and hopefully a safer place to learn.

Today is Pride in Seattle. I will miss out this year due to our vacation with Patrick’s family, but I know that there’s a yellow school bus filled with students, staff, and families that will be making its way down the parade route. As it has for the past several years, it will sway back and forth, and the crowds will cheer. Just like the dykes on bikes, PFLAG contingents and the drag queens, the employee groups from T-Mobile, Macy’s and Microsoft, these brave individuals will, in the words of one of our favorite poets, “announce their place in the family of things.”

What a glorious moment it will be.

Love you,