Pride, Sanctuary, and Why Allies Matter

 

The hand blown rainbow glass gifted
to me by my English teacher upon
my high school graduation.

June Pride. 

This year, we not only remember but activate the true meaning of Pride -- a riotous and righteous fight for our lives as well as a celebration of who we are.

Why does Pride have more relevance and hopefully more impact this year?

Just as in the '60's, when the Stonewall riot launched our marches for equity, and the '80's, when we lived under another repressive Republican regime that attempted to silence us in our fight against a lethal pandemic -- we are fighting for our lives. 

Very simply: fighting for our right to be named, addressed, and respected for who we are, to have sex with whom we wish, and to receive the services and health care to which others have access.

If you already have these rights then this may not resonate with you. You may wonder: what's to fight for? We ask for your empathy, compassion and, most importantly, your solidarity.

I was lucky to receive and feel these actions -- empathy, compassion, solidarity -- from someone as a very young person a very long time ago.

The first adult to whom I came out, in 1976 when I was 15, was my high school English teacher.

She saw my queerness, my loneliness, my distress.

Not because she herself was queer. But because she saw me and my need for support.

There was no one in my hometown whom I knew that could guide me on this path: what would it mean for my future to be queer? to not marry a man? to not have children?

The options to a 15 year-old in 1976 were unimaginable.

The homophobia, particularly in girls sports where we demonstrated our strength and independence, was ferocious.

But like all great teachers: she saw me and went beyond the call of duty, inviting me into her home.

She listened. With curiosity and without judgement.

She provided sanctuary.

A place of refuge and safety. A place I could be who I was without hiding, or fear of reprisals.

I can't make sense of living in a world in which it is illegal to provide sanctuary for those most in need. But here we are, with the current Republican administration punishing "sanctuary" cities for helping legal immigrants.

When I graduated from high school and was approaching the legal drinking age, my teacher gave me the hand-blown rainbow glass pictured above.

This glass is a sign of solidarity: it was the twin to the one she used every evening at her home, which she had opened to me, as she graded papers and watched TV.

I treasure and use this glass and carry it carefully with me to this day.

A reminder of how important solidarity, and sanctuary, are.

We will keep the fight. And hope many of you who do not directly experience the repressions of the current regime will join us.