LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
I'm Still Marching After All These Years |
by Bill Sievert |
It began as a blustery October morning. John and I huddled over paper cups of rapidly cooling coffee, taking shelter from the wind against the towering west wall of the Washington Monument. With a handful of friends, we had arrived very early, eager to discover how many would be joining us for the first ever National March on Washington for Gay and Lesbian Rights. We were worried that the chill might affect the turnout. One member of our entourage already had retreated. He had arrived in a summery cotton sundress and parasol, but soon hightailed it home to change into the kind of drag the rest of us were wearing: flannel shirts and jeans. It was not going to be a day to ogle shirtless guys; only a handful of women marchers would be brave enough to bare their tops. It surprises me how vividly I still remember so many details from October 14, 1979and how many moments I recall from October 11, 1987 and April 25, 1993. All three days left indelible impressions because they proved to be so energizing and life-affirming. I have no doubt that the same will hold true for April 30, 2000the date of our fourth visit to the National Mall in support of our gay/lesbian/bisexual/transgender rights. By early in the afternoon of the first march 21 years ago, weather was no longer a concern. The sun was breaking through the clouds, and more than 100,000 of us were warming one another with radiant body heat and exhilaration. Never before had so many people like us come together to speak up for equitable treatment under law. Our line of marchers completely surrounded the White House grounds, and we packed the Ellipse and Monument grounds all the way to the amphitheater. Macho men and drags, dykes on bikes and lipstick lesbians, we all howled to the poetry of Allen Ginsberg and listened attentively to the encouragement of feminist pioneer Kate Millett. We swayed arm in arm to the rousing anthems of Holly Near, the Tom Robinson Band (England's first "out loud" rock group) and cabaret favorites Gotham. When we returned to the National Mall eight autumns later, our numbers were larger by at least five fold. The weather was warmer, but the mood was more sober. The AIDS epidemic and the Reagan administration's failure to respond responsibly had angered us, made many of us more militant. A morning of civil disobedience at the Supreme Court resulted in 600 arrests. A fledgling group of New Yorkers, calling itself ACT UP, created a lasting impression with guerilla-theater in-your-face tactics. Before long, chapters of ACT UP would spring up all over the country. For almost everyone, the most profound memory of the 1987 march is the moment we first saw the AIDS Quilttwo football fields in size with more than 2,000 names. There wasn't a dry eye among the half-million of us who stepped gingerly from ornately decorated panel to panel, trying to absorb every message. Thousands of us clamored for a chance to climb a small wooden tower, from which we could look down upon the Mall at the seemingly endless rainbow of fabric. Six years later, the lobbying of Congress, voter registration and a "Gay Census" emerged as key strategies for our third march. The Quilt was much larger, too huge to display in its entirety. But, even having lost so many people, our turnout was dramatically higher. It was impossible even for reconnaissance aircraft to come up with a reliable count. There were at least 700,000 of us, perhaps as many as a million. Six hours passed and our parade, which wound its way up Pennsylvania Avenue, around the White House and back to the Capitol, refused to end. Despite a blazing, dehydrating sun, everyone was determined to complete the long hike. From the stage in front of the Capitol steps, dozens of celebrities took turns inspiring those of us who had already finished marching. I'll never forget the eloquence of recently knighted British actor Ian McKellen, who urged his closeted colleagues in the film industry to come out. (Being openly gay certainly hasn't hurt Sir Ian's career, particularly with the accolades he received for Gods & Monsters.) Out and proud Melissa Etheridge, also on the verge of superstardom, belted out her trademark brand of rocking romantic songswith lyrics that everyone can appreciate and we particularly understand. Throughout the day, medics distributed truckload after truckload of bottled water in an effort to prevent our bodies from boiling over. But few of us complained about the heat. Never before, even on a Fourth of July weekend at Rehoboth Beach, had we mingled with so many handsome shirtless men. And women. Of course, the issue of shirtless women created a bit of brouhaha among some folks who fretted about the media attention they might draw. Political controversies have been a part of all three previous marches, ranging from silly little issues (how many drag queens are too many?) to significant concerns (are people of color being adequately represented?). It should come as no surprise that next month's Millennium March is also controversial, including concerns about financial accountability and fears that a lack of travel coordination and accommodations planning may result in a smaller crowd than last time. Political insiders tend to worry too much. No rally is ever as well organized as it might be, andas diverse a group as we arewe'll never all agree on every matter of policy. Still, there is no more rewarding experience for any gay man or lesbian than to stand up with our brothers, our sisters and our "straight but not narrow" supporters to be counted. We need to create these kind of national days for ourselves, since greeting-card companies have yet to come up with an annual tribute to us in the vein of Mother's Day or even Secretary's Day. It hardly matters if it's difficult to find a room (almost everyone parties all night anyway) or if the crowd ultimately is somewhat smaller than last time. In reality, once you get more than half a million people in one place, nobody can count them accurately anyway. The National Park Service always estimates low, organizers high. That's simply the way it goes. While some say they will sit this one out, enough of us will make our way to Washington that our numbers again will be impressive, as will our personal and collective enrichment. We will celebrate our humanity. We will discover new energy and prideeager to return to our local communities as volunteers and leaders, ready to lobby hard for fairer laws and to create new grassroots projects. That is the legacy of all three marches to date, as our movement has grown from surprised delight (1979) to anger and militant action (1987) to political organization and determination (1993). It's the 21st anniversary year of the original march, and our lesbian and gay rights movement is entering its adulthood. On the last Sunday of April in the year 2000, there's going to be a day of celebration I am confident you won't ever forget. |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 10, No. 2, Mar. 10, 2000. |