While the Connie McMillen prom saga continues in Mississippi (and please, if you haven't taken action yet, contribute to help the Mississippi Safe Schools Coalition throw an inclusive prom for Itawamba County's students, and email the Itawamba County School Board to urge them to reconsider their decision to cancel the school's official prom), we should take a look back at one of the first Prom Discrimination cases against gay students, from way back in 1980. Aaron Fricke grew up in Cumberland, Rhode Island. He went through Cumberland's schools, he participated in Cumberland's community activities, he paid Cumberland's taxes. And, as all of his classmates knew or strongly suspected, Aaron Fricke was gay.
Aaron's school required that every attendee to the school prom bring an "escort." In 1979, Aaron's friend Paul Guilbert had asked if he could bring a male as his prom date, and the principal had denied his request. Paul didn't go to prom. Aaron could have taken one of his girl friends to the prom. He could have kept his head down and pretended to be something he wasn't. But instead he chose to speak up against discrimination. So in 1980, he followed Paul's example and asked for permission to bring a male as a prom date. Again, the principal said no, saying that he couldn't protect Aaron from physical harm at the hands of other students, and that the community backlash at "a request for overt homosexual interaction at a class function" would hurt other students and the town. So Aaron sued for the right to take a boy to prom. He was physically beaten for his actions, needing five stitches on his face afterwards. The assailant was suspended for nine days. Aaron had to be walked through the halls by administrators for his protection. When the case reached the US District Court, Chief Judge Pettine recognized the weakness of the school's case for preventing Aaron from bringing a date. He ordered that Aaron be allowed to attend with whomever he wanted to bring, saying that this was a matter of Aaron's First Amendment rights. On a class trip to New York shortly after the order, Aaron met up with an old friend. Paul Guilbert had moved to the Village after graduation, and he and Aaron spent the evening reconnecting with each other. And while Paul hadn't been able to bring a male date to prom the year before, he got a chance to go in 1980, as Aaron's date. In a 1983 essay, Aaron described the trepidation of his classmates:
The crowd receded. As I laid my head on Paul's shoulder, I saw a few students start to stare at us. I closed my eyes and listened to the music [Bob Seger's "We've Got the Night"], my thoughts wandering over the events of the evening. When the song ended, I opened my eyes. A large crowd of students had formed a ring around us. Probably most of them had never seen two happy men embracing in a slow dance. For a moment I was uncomfortable.
But then, as is wont to happen, the Athens, Georgia music scene saved the day:
Then I heard the sound that I knew so well as a B-52s fan. One of my favorite songs was coming up: "Rock Lobster." Paul and I began dancing free-style. Everyone else was still staring at us, but by the end of the first stanza, several couples had also begun dancing. The song had a contagious enthusiasm to it, and with each bar, more dancers came onto the floor. ... I doubt that any two people were dancing with the same movements: the dancing was an expression of our individuality, and no one felt bad about being different. Everyone was free to be themselves. ... I could see that everyone felt a sense of disorientation. For six minutes and forty-nine seconds, the students on the dance floor had forgotten about their defenses, forgotten about their shells. We just had fun.
I haven't read it myself, but I'd wager that Aaron's book is worth a read:
If the Itawamba County School Board has its way, Connie McMillen won't get a chance to reminisce about a moment like Aaron and Paul shared on that dance floor. Connie's classmates won't have the chance to ask her for a dance, or watch her and her girlfriend lose themselves in a slow dance, or laugh with her at how disgusting the chicken cordon bleu looks. This is a fight that's been going on for thirty years. Thirty years. Connie's engaged in a battle for a simple, basic right on a fairly discrete issue--a battle that's over a decade older than she is. She could have lied about who she is, brought a boy as a date, dressed in a ball gown, and met her girlfriend there secretly. Instead, she chose to stand up for the right simply to be allowed to be herself; not to the detriment or disruption of any of her classmates, but for her own personal development. She wants the right to live as she is. She deserves that right.
HOW TO GIVE: To support the Mississippi Safe Schools Coalition's "Second Chance Prom Fund," and help Constance and the students of IAHS have a prom they can be proud of, click here! Funds are being handled by the Mississippi ACLU. When you give, either write "Prom Fund/DailyKos" in the "Why are you giving today?" field or email Jennifer Carr directly at jcarr (at) aclu-ms (dot) org, and let her know how to direct your gift.
UPDATE - 12:37 a.m. - I'm sure others have already spotted this, but I just found someone special on YouTube who'd like to say something to everyone here supporting equal rights: No, Connie, thank you.