Protests can take many forms. Sometimes they’re physical – you show up somewhere to march or show solidarity. Other times it’s a boycott of a company or the cancelling of a subscription. Sometimes it’s letter-writing or signing petitions. Other times it’s jamming the Capitol phone lines trying to call your Senators and Representatives. Sometimes it’s standing up when everyone else is sitting. Sometimes it’s talking a knee when everyone else is standing. Sometimes it’s confronting someone. Sometimes it’s protecting someone. Sometimes it’s just not backing down. Entering my 74th year, I’ve probably done all of them at one time or another.
The first time I was teargassed was 1968. I was 16.
I was at San Francisco State College mulling around the student strike. It was a five-month long strike – the longest in academic history. While the strikers had quite a few complaints – everything from the Viet Nam War, ROTC on campus, and providing students’ academic standing to the Selective Service – the main issues were systemic admission practices that excluded students of color and classes that were irrelevant to minorities.
San Francisco – in all their infinite wisdom – set the SFPD Tactical Unit in on many occasions – baton-wielding, tear-gas shooting “authority” to quell what were peaceful protests until they showed up. Eventually, it was the National Guard. Not surprisingly, they only made matters worse. That was the second time I was teargassed.
It was my first series of demonstrations – certainly not my last.
There was political calm for me in the ’70s. After getting back from Viet Nam, I ended up settling at Lake Tahoe. It was peaceful back in the day…
Then I moved to Boston.
My first demonstration there was against the KKK. It was a few years after the Boston Busing situation that had angered Bostonians – particularly in the South Boston area. Racial tensions had been high but had been cooling off. The KKK decided to show up and stir the pot. They demanded – and received – police protection during their assembly at City Hall Plaza. The protesters greatly outnumbered the KKK and they cut their little display short. While it was their Constitutional Right to assemble, a few of us thought it was our Constitutional Right to throw rocks at them. We made our point, no one was injured, and we faded into the crowd.
We marched in and attended Gay Pride Parades – back in the early days they were really fuck-you-in-your-face events – before corporate sponsorships watered down the messages.
We went to see Armistead Maupin and the San Francisco Gay Men’s Chorus at Davies Symphony Hall in SF and had to walk a gauntlet of Fred Phelps supporters with their signs and cameras videotaping everyone walking in – trying to intimidate people. Victor and I stood directly in front of the cameras and gave each other a lip-lock-tonsil-tickle that totally curled my toes. We then smiled, flipped them off, and walked arm-in-arm into the hall – to the cheers of the spectators around us.
We were always letter-writers and have had scores of letters published around the country.
We supported the Occupy Wall Street Movement and spent time at the Philly encampment back in 2009…
And then to Washington, DC for the National Equality March in October, 2009.
That was a fun one!
The people were amazing – the signs intelligent and clever…
After the speeches and all, we headed back through The Mall to Constitution Avenue where we found another Fred Phelps-style protestor…
We figured it was time for a bit of Street theatre, so we headed into the middle of Constitution Avenue right in front of the jerk, stopped traffic, and proceeded with another lip-lock-tonsil-tickle to the roar of the crowd! At this point we were in our late 50s showing the whippersnappers a bit of in-your-face-activism. Sometimes just showing up is enough. Other times ya need to do a bit more.
We were back again in 2017.
And while we fight for Equality we have to continue to fight the systemic racism in our country. The current fascist fuckwads in power are doing everything they can to destroy the minuscule steps anyone who is not a cis gendered white christian male has achieved in the 250 years of our country. Very simply, all lives cannot matter until Black Lives Matter.
We were unable to attend any protests in person but continue to support Black Lives Matter financially.
We’re both approaching three quarters of a century in age. I’m really getting tired of all of this shit.
But… as long as that fuckwad is in the Oval Office, we don’t have a lot of choice.
One foot in front of the other – keep moving forward.
