Mostly I post here on health care or labor issues. The rights of LGBT people is one of the long list of good causes I support, but not one of the central ones I spend my time on. There is, after all, only so much time and we each have to make our choices.
Today at lunch I was reading the San Francisco Chronicle and I came across a piece of writing so stunning that I just have to post it here in hopes of giving it a wider audience and some small part of the exposure it deserves.
A few days ago, the Chron published a piece on the 40th anniversary of the Stonewall riots - generally seen as a seminal moment in the gay liberation movement.
That piece triggered a letter from a reader. Now letters to newspapers are generally tightly limited in length, but obviously the editor recognized this as something very special indeed and published the whole rather long letter.
In keeping with "fair use" rules I will reproduce here the opening and closing of it. Please go to the Chronicle's site to read the whole thing. You won't regret it.
Here's the beginning:
Editor - I remember a fine June breeze swishing its way up Christopher Street from the river and the sweet aroma from the joint in my hand as I sat on a stoop up the block with some friends, the night New York's finest raided the Stonewall Inn ("Stonewall bar riot was clarion call for change," Monday). The Stonewall had been there for years. A pub, it is said, built before the American Revolution of the granite blocks from which it took its name. In my time it had been the best speakeasy dance bar in the West Village. By that June night in 1969, its faddish heyday had passed and it had become the party bar for drag and its fans. It was run, as were all the queer bars in New York City at that time, by the mob and its minions.
Remember, in those days, it was almost illegal to be queer, to congregate, to drink together, much less dance. We paid the mob in our private clubs and they paid the cops so we would be left alone. And that's why that night, as I sat with my friends blowing a joint up the block, the cops raided the Stonewall. They raided it over a "bump in the pad," an increase in their bribe. The Stonewall wouldn't pay, so it got raided. (One of New York's dirty little secrets.)
And here's how it ends:
Today I am 64 years old. I am a poet and retired actor. My face has, many times, graced the silver screen. I am 25 years HIV positive. I have marched and demonstrated all my life. I marched in San Francisco the night Harvey Milk and George Moscone were shot, and months later I rioted. I've marched on conventions and city halls.
I've marched in New York and D.C., San Francisco and L.A.
I've marched in daylight and with a candle in my hand. I've marched for the living and the dead.
I've grown tired and old and sick marching. I've grown powerful and brave, wise and proud marching.
So even after 40 years, every time I hear Garland's voice sing that haunting song, I think of bluebirds and lemon drops, a fire hose and freedom. And for that freedom and our rights, I am - and many, many others are - prepared to march under our rainbow flags forever.
- J.E. Freeman, San Francisco
Now go and read the whole thing. You'll be glad you did.
Update: I just noticed an action diary that just went up with a close relationship to this story, so, I'll take the opportunity to give it a plug here: http://www.dailykos.com/...