We Marched

The last time I was in Washington, DC, it was for Celebration on the Hill with Relay For Life.  What a difference this trip was.

We took Amtrak from Philadelphia, running into friends David and Randy at 30th Street Station – also on their way to The March.  It was wet and dreary when we hailed a cab to the hotel, but the skies cleared almost immediately, and we were off to see some sights.

Our hotel was centrally located, and Washington is a very walkable town, so we headed off on foot to the Lincoln Memorial.  It would be a fitting start to a weekend devoted to equality.  On our way we passed through the WWII Memorial. I had never seen it, and we stopped to pay homage to “The Greatest Generation”.

I found Nebraska and said my thanks to Pop, Uncle Jack, and Uncle Tom.  Pop never spoke about the war.  He told a few humorous stories of getting drunk/and or getting thrown in the brig, but never a word about the Battle of Midway or of The Coral Sea… Like the majority of his fellow sailors and soldiers, he took those stories with him.

From the WWII Memorial one looks straight across to the Lincoln memorial.  It’s pretty awe-inspiring.  I’ve been there several times and it always amazes me just how moving it is.  From his perch, Lincoln looks out to the Washington monument all the way to the Capitol.

It conveys that feeling of hope; that right will prevail over wrong; that we will do the right thing.  Alas, I’m much too much of a cynic (and a realist) to believe that there are three politicians in Washington who actually would do the right thing, but just for a moment, one gets the feeling that it could happen.  One gets the feeling that the words of the Declaration of Independence, the words of the Constitution, the words of the Pledge of Allegiance, really do mean “and liberty and justice, for all.”  For ALL.

We wandered through the mall, went into the Smithsonian Castle because Victor had never been in there, had a bite of late lunch and headed back across the Mall.

As we were approaching Constitution Avenue, we saw these whack-jobs with their signs and bull-horns harassing the mostly young and mostly gay crowd.

They were loud and obnoxious.  I don’t have a lot of tolerance for people who take my rights away based upon their version of religion and “God”.  Freedom of speech, of course.  Freedom of religion, of course.  Freedom FROM religion?!?  I wish.

Victor and I calmly walked into the middle of the street in front of them, stopped traffic, and gave each other a lip-lock-tonsil-tickle that was pretty damned impressive – if I do say so m’self!  The crowd went crazy in cheering and applause, completely drowning out the fools across the street.  It really was a sight to behold.

The kids gave us high-fives and congratulatory remarks.  It was a great feeling – and proof that a little street-theatre now and again works miracles for the soul.  We were energized for what was coming up.

We headed back to the hotel to rest for a bit before heading out to meet friends for dinner and to do a bit of protesting at the HRC fundraiser where President Obama was delivering the keynote speech.

Our hotel was across the street from the dinner venue and all of a sudden, we started hearing chanting and noise and all sorts of stuff.  It wasn’t even 6pm, yet, but it seemed the protest had started.   We ran out the door and headed up the street.

There were scores of people with rainbow flags, homemade signs and banners in front of the convention center.  We joined right in.

Sorry for the rotten picture, but I was trying to balance my own flag while walking and shouting.  We were there for a couple of hours watching the Evening-Attired-Cocktail-Circuit-Boys worm their way in.  Not a glance in our direction.  We didn’t exist.  They were the “A” list – we weren’t on any list.

They applauded like mad when the president said he would end Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.  Somehow, they missed the part where he didn’t say when.  Or didn’t care that the president never uttered the word “marriage” during his entire speech.

More platitudes.  More talk.  No action.  They grovelled and fawned, and loved every minute of it.  The real people, the people who are suffering from the inaction,  inequity, and inequality, were outside.  Still not invited to the table.

Back to the hotel to clean up, then off to dinner at a great restaurant in Dupont Circle – Afterwards Cafe.  It’s in a bookstore.

We were seated at a cleared but not wiped table (it was Saturday night and the place was busy) and the cute-as-a-button straight waiter looked down and said “I’ll give you guys a rubdown”.  The minute the words were out of his mouth, he realized what he had said and turned every color red  imaginable.  It was hysterical.  The jokes and banter kept up.  I was reading the menu and burst out in laughter.  He was taking an order next to us as I said to Victor “I’m not even going to mention the “French Cut Hanging Tenderloin of Beef” on the menu.  It went downhill from there!

Dinner consumed, we did a trek around the gayborhood and then back onto the metro and the hotel.

We woke up bright and early to a most glorious, clear, sunny day!

Perfect for a protest!

After a leisurely breakfast, we headed to the metro to meet Sara and her friend Carey and Carey’s daughter Izzie.  Sara came up from Atlanta to march with us.  It doesn’t get any better!

On our way to the staging area, we ran into the Breast Cancer 3-Day walkers.  Sara and I bought pink boas.  It was going to be a festive day!  Victor and Izzie got rainbow flags.  I got a whistle.

We were set.

At 17th and Pennsylvania Avenue we joined the march – just a couple of blocks from the starting point.  In just a few minutes we were at the White House.

The President was home but didn’t come out to wave or say hi.  I don’t think I’d want to say hi to over 200,000 pissed off homo’s, either.  Victor started a chant we had picked up at the HRC protest the night before; “Obama, Obama, let mama marry mama”.  It was loud.  It was fun.  We moved on…..

The march itself was great.  So many people from so many different walks of life.  Old gay couples who had been together for 40+ years, young kids just coming out.  Straight folks like Sara and Carey showing support for their gay friends.  People of every color – everyone united with a common purpose – ending discrimination and demanding equality for ALL Americans.

The people were wonderful.  The signs were wonderful.  Clever.  Witty.  Serious.

We sat on the lawn and in the shade, listening to speaker after speaker tell their stories.  Cynthia Nixon spoke.  Kate Clinton (who we saw a couple of years ago) spoke.  Famous people, not famous people.

The New York cast of Hair closed their Sunday show to be there and perform.  (I first saw Hair in 1968!)  It was great.

But for all of the wonderful people who were there, I kept wondering about all of the people who WEREN’T there…

Where was Melissa Etheridge?  She could support Rick Warren speaking at the inauguration but not support Dan Choi being kicked out of the military under DADT?

Where was Ellen?  Where was Doogie Howser?  Chastity Bono?

Where were the stars who make their living from their gay audiences?

Speaker after speaker talked to us about building bridges, but where were the people we’re supposed to build those bridges to?

I’ve gotten really tired of always being the person who is supposed to ask permission.  Who is supposed to grovel for the right to be included in this country.

So while I stood up once again to be counted, I am not holding my breath that this administration will do anything meaningful for us.  And I also know that I will not give another penny to the Democratic Party or the Human Rights Campaign until DADT and DoMA are repealed and ENDA is passed.

His “advisers” seem to think we’re lounging around in our pajamas without any basis for our complaints.

But those “advisers”  – and the President – need to realize that I will not vote for President Obama for a second term if he does not do these things in his first.

I went to Washington to stand up and say I will not be used as a political pawn any longer.

If the President is unable to fulfill his promises during his first term, he does not deserve a second.