Pink boas and rainbow flags were the accessories of choice at the National Equality March on October 11, 2009 in Washington DC. Supporters of full civil and legal rights for same-sex loving people filled the Mall near the Capitol after a 2.3 mile prance by the White House where many shouted to President Obama to hurry up and lift “don’t ask, don’t tell.” Under a cloudless sky the rally began with prayer. The crowd, whose median age I would ballpark at 23, grew silent under the imposing dome of the Capitol.
The Reverend Troy Perry, founder of the Metropolitan Community Church, bellowed the invocation in his powerful southern voice, himself an icon of courage and fortitude. He was surrounded by religious leaders of many stripes, including the Radical Faeries, Dignity USA, Methodists and Unitarians, various Jewish groups, and many more who are part of the National Religious Leadership Roundtable, a project of the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force. That group, of which I am a part, is an interreligious coalition that engages in networking and strategic actions to lift religious voices in favor of same-sex love and justice.
With his stalwart successor the Rev. Nancy Wilson at his side, Troy was religion personified. He read a rousing letter from South African Archbishop Desmond Tutu who called it the “duty of every democracy” to bring about justice and urged Americans to do so on same-sex issues. There was no denying Tutu’s moral authority and no mistaking the strong presence of many religions as a powerful witness to justice. Troy Perry invoked the ancestors beginning with the immortal names of Phyllis Lyons and Del Martin who in 1955 began the first lesbian organization in the United States. After fifty years together, they had the honor to be the first same-sex couple to be married legally in California. He raised the name of Harry Hay who founded the Mattachine Society and Radical Faeries. He lifted up the names of Christine Jorgensen, an early trans person and Bayard Rustin, an African American gay man who organized the 1963 March on Washington where Dr. Martin Luther King gave the “I have a dream speech.”
It was a stirring recitation of a history that has seen more than its share of visionary people with the courage to live out their dreams despite hate crimes, rejection by family, and especially religious censure. It was about time religion was seen for what it can be, namely, a source of inspiration and a moral compass set on true equality. I noted that many of those present had no idea who he was talking about in most instances. They cheered for Harvey Milk, thanks in large part probably to the Sean Penn movie about him. But otherwise the litany was new for many, an educational experience as much as a prayer, just the way I like religion.
I found it hard to realize that some of the most important struggles of my lifetime are now history; some of my contemporaries are now ancestors, some on their way to sainthood. But on reflection, I was delighted that religion, of all unlikely sources when it comes to LGBTQ issues, could provide something positive and helpful for a change. Rather than functioning as a source of discrimination dispensing immoral dicta, here were religious leaders standing shoulder to shoulder foursquare in favor of same-sex equality. Nice.
The rest of the rally was full of equally solid voices. Standouts included Urvashi Vaid, a creative LGBTQ activist and now head of the Arcus Foundation that funds many queer projects introduced by her longtime “gal pal” Kate Clinton whose comedy goes to the heart of social change. March organizers made clear their disdain for Congressman Barney Frank whose lack of support for the event proved that not all queer people think alike, a sign of movement maturity among other things. Speaker after speaker expressed impatience with President Obama’s incrementalist approach that even he admits we need not accept. The big star was someone I dated myself by admitting I had never heard of, Lady Gaga, a singer and pianist who has captured many a gay heart. Live and learn.
I rejoiced that young people learned something that day. One young woman proclaimed excitedly to her friend as they marched along “We’re in the history books now.” I felt like saying “Yes, and let’s hope you stay there as long as it takes to bring about full equality.” I learned a lot too, especially the fact that there were so many non-gay people involved.
Two young women standing behind my family at the rally sported black tee shorts with “Whatever” written in rainbow colors. They summed up the attitude of many people under thirty on questions of sexuality. It simply is not the issue for them that it was for their parents and grandparents. Of course the law has not caught up with them and backlash in places where it has is now rippling across the country. But the fact that people who have no deeply vested interest are on board because the issues are clearly about all of us signals that change is happening.
I listened to the Washington Gay Men’s Chorus sing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” with my longtime partner at my side and my daughter on my shoulders looking out at thousands of people behind us on the Mall. I’ll admit it was a moment. Knowing that those of us in religion had a hand in creating it despite the obstacles of theology and society made it even sweeter. Sweetest yet will be when my daughter and her friends can’t even imagine what people were worried about way back then since love and families come in countless packages. Until then, we’ll don our boas and wave our rainbow flags faithfully.
