For young people, the National Equality March provided solidarity, validation, and a glimpse of a more hopeful future

by Ken

Count yourself lucky if you're not privy to the infighting among activists of the LGBT community. It became especially fierce in the run-up to this month's National Equality March (NEM) in Washington (mercifully name-changed from a "march on Washington"), with a line drawn between the people who threw it together in haste on a wing and a prayer and people who couldn't figure out what the thing was meant to accomplish or how the heck it was supposed to accomplish it, and also felt considerable anxiety over the consequences if the thing turned out to be a fiasco.

Well, the NEM wasn't a fiasco. In fact, for a lot of people it was the event of a young lifetime.

Okay, I guess I just gave it away. Maybe I missed it somewhere in all the pre-event squabbling, but I don't remember even the organizers stressing that there's an entire generation of LGBT folk out there who have never participated in a group kind of event, let alone one of national scope, and never seen themselves as part of a larger whole. In the event, there was abundant evidence that in important numbers those young people were eager and wildly enthusiastic, and many of them had their lives changed for the better.

This seems to me incredibly important, and deserving of attention. A colleague passed on this remarkable account from the New England LGBT blog Bay Windows. I know it's not short, but the detail all matters. I think it's well worth your time and consideration.

Getting schooled at the National Equality March

by Edward Byrne
Bay Windows contributor
Wednesday Oct 14, 2009

Four days before "the March" I received an email from a 17-year-old high school student who lives in a working-class suburb of Massachusetts. The message went something like this: "Dear Mr. Byrne, My name is Tim and I understand that you’re leading a trip of high school students from MA to the National Equality March on Washington. I know it’s late notice, but if you could find one more seat for me, I’d really like the opportunity to stand up and fight for my rights. Every day in my school I’m reminded that I’m a second-class citizen. Kids get away with taunting me, harassing me, and making me feel like I’m not worthy to live. I’m living in a single-parent family and I can’t afford the ticket. If there’s any scholarship opportunity, I’d be most grateful."

When I agreed to lead this MA high school student delegation to Washington with my colleagues from Project 10 East, GLSEN MA, and Join the Impact - MA, I was skeptical of what this march could really accomplish. I was a naysayer. With so much we’re trying to get done here at home -- such as safer schools, marriage equality in Maine, and closing the racial and ethnic health disparities that exist in our community -- why are we barreling down to Washington to chant and hold signs? What will this really do?

On Saturday afternoon, we held a pre-departure workshop series for the high school student participants here in Boston at the New England Foundation for the Arts. Much of the afternoon was about getting to know each other, learning about the history of this movement, and practicing and building leadership skills that the youth can take back to their schools. One of the activities was a roundtable discussion about common challenges these youth face and practicing how to engineer collaborative solutions. These students were phenomenal. Tim opened up about the daily challenges he faces in school. Few in the room were surprised, since they’ve all experienced similar harassment in their schools, too. Tim thought that maybe if we could just shine a light on how destructive laws like the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) and "don’t ask, don’t tell" (DADT) have been to our community, and how we need equal rights to live up to our full potentials, then maybe, just maybe people would stand with us, not against us.

Something clicked for me in his response. I began thinking about all things I thought we should be doing instead of the march like creating safer schools and canvassing in Maine, and I realized that these things have received such little attention in our community. What we needed was something to get everyone rallied for our rights. Maybe this march could be the spark to get us all moving together again.

When we arrived in Washington, we proceeded to the Metro station so we could meet up with the larger student contingent downtown. As we entered the station, we were intercepted by the opposition. One man yelled that the reason we were gay was because we were all molested as children like he was, and that we needed to turn to Jesus to be saved. Some kids stood back, aghast at what they were seeing. Some engaged him with our chants. One cried. Shortly, more GLBT activists arrived in the station with bullhorns and a more aggressive response that included putdowns and swearing.

Once we had cleared the station, a bunch of students in our group began to question our tactics. Tim, asked, "Ed, should we have yelled at him or just ignored him?" I was amazed not by the behavior of anyone in our group, but by the fact they are considering this question. Indeed, they already have an appreciation for the fact that how we win is just as important as winning.

I kept an eye on Tim the rest of the day -- watching as he took in this incredible experience. I watched as he developed the confidence to lead the chants with his peer group, whether he had bullhorn, a rolled up piece of oak tag, or just his voice and enthusiasm. And I watched the emotion in his face as we stopped on Pennsylvania Avenue in front of the White House, the first time he had ever seen it in person, and he began to chant "Yes We Can."

These high school students never for one moment thought that this trip was a stand-alone event. They know that this is only the beginning of their participation in our movement; a movement that they now see themselves leading. I came in a skeptic, and fifty queer teenagers and their allies showed me that this march was only the downbeat of a building crescendo in our community.

I know that they will knock on doors in Maine. I know that they will provide testimony to their government to help create substantive policy change. I know they will stand up in their schools for all their peers. And I know that wherever you are on the merits of this march and movement, they will reach out to you and say, "It’s time to come together."

I don’t know what Tim’s school day was like the Tuesday after the march. Maybe he was bullied and harassed yet again. But I believe he stood a little taller this week. He’s leading now. I’m sure he’s walking the halls chanting "yes we can" -- if only to himself -- and now really believing, we will.

I'm far from sure what all the implications of this development are, but I think they're important, and need to be acknowledged and considered. Isn't it nice for once to have some good news to consider?

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