I do not have faith in Jesus Christ. I do not have faith in Allah. I put no faith in religion or its deities. I really never have and I am not sure if I ever will. The one thing I have always had an undying faith in is the Constitution of the United States, the fundamental and structural core of this nation’s government. It has been altered and misconstrued. It has been abused, and it has been tested. In the end, the central principles our Founding Fathers incorporated into this living document have survived and proven to provide justice more often than not.
The Constitution has always seemed genius to me, in that, unlike the Bible, it recognizes the need to live, grow and adapt. I have an unaltered faith that the Constitution, and those in power to defend it, will realize the necessity of standing up to social injustice and provide equality to all citizens of this nation. Until this happens, I march. We march. We assemble peaceably to remind the nation of the core principles of this nation, liberty and justice for all. Like Jehovah Witnesses in a suburban neighborhood, we knocked on the White House’s door. We knocked on the Capitol Building’s door. On October 11, 2009, an estimated 200,000 people knocked to say, “Equality across America.”
In September, I got word that an equality march was being planned in Washington, DC to bring attention to gay and lesbian rights, or lack thereof. At that point, my friends and I had marched on San Francisco’s City Hall. We drove to Sacramento to march on our state’s capitol. We decided the time had come to fly to our nation’s capitol to march for what we deserve, our full civil rights. Travel plans were made and off we went to explore the core of our country’s government. Off we went to stand up to social injustice, for ourselves, for those who cannot speak, and for the future.
We did not know what to expect in numbers for the march; the effectiveness of such a march continually ridiculed by many on both sides of the political spectrum. As days neared to the march, news was released that President Obama would speak at the Human Rights Coalition (HRC) event the night before the march. This had to be a sign that the march was going to be something worthy of getting President Obama to speak the night before. In a sense, a victory had been won without anyone actually marching. President Obama speaking at the HRC got the cause of equality in the headlines for the weekend; it got people talking. The conversation fueled once more. It seemed from an outsider’s standpoint that the march we were to embark upon must have helped, even just a tad, in convincing President Obama to speak at this important event. He spoke and it was, more or less, the same rhetoric he used in his campaign, but at least we know he has not forgotten and more importantly, he knows we have not forgotten.
October 11, 2009, National Coming Out Day, our day to march on the nation’s capitol, had arrived. We walked to the gathering point of the march and waited for it to begin. As we waited, we looked up to see a huge rainbow in the sky; an actual rainbow adorning us from above. It had to be a sign that we were doing something special. Thousands of people gathered. We stood waiting for an hour thinking we were held up from marching down Pennsylvania Avenue, past the White House and to the Capitol. Unsure of the reason for the wait, we maneuvered through the crowd only to find that the turnout had the streets so filled that it took an hour to get all the marchers down the route to allow us to start moving. It was massive. Rainbow flags everywhere. Massive signs calling for equality and justice. People of all colors, all ages, all sexual orientations. It was a colorful and powerful display. 200,000-250,000 people marched in front of the White House and then stood before the Capitol Building. A spectacular site to be seen. Although, the turnout was smaller than that in marches in 2000, 1993 and the late 80s, something was done and someone heard.
Barney Frank, D-MA, said that the National Equality March was “only putting pressure on the grass” and that such peaceful assemblies do little to persuade Congress into making decisions. He said the march was more of an emotional release for those marching. I certainly agree that participating in the National Equality March was an emotional release, a powerful release of all sorts of emotions. I felt empowered, and knew that the same document that gives me the freedom of speech and to peaceably assemble will one day work to give me the equality I so rightfully am due. We had to bring attention to Maine’s Prop 1, the Prop 8 of Maine. Washington state has pending legislation to remove domestic partnership rights from the state. This was not just about pressuring Congress to act, it was about bringing attention to each piece of social injustice happening in our nation.
None of us marching expect Congress to overturn the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) or Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell (DADT) in the next couple weeks. Lady Gaga’s speech at the steps of the Capital Building put it perfectly, “President Obama, I know you are listening. ARE YOU LISTENING?” We marched on Sunday, October 11, 2009 to remind Congress, to remind the President and to remind America that we are not done. We marched on Sunday to get one more person to listen and say, “Enough is enough. These people are right.” This march keeps the conversation alive and in our system, the conversation must be kept alive because one day, one or all of the branches in Washington are going to acknowledge, provide and protect equal civil rights for the LGBT community. Until this day happens, I will put “pressure on the grass” for me and for my country, because as FDR said:
We must scrupulously guard the civil rights and civil liberties of all citizens, whatever their background. We must remember that any oppression, any injustice, any hatred, is a wedge designed to attack our civilization.
Below, artists use movement, color and music to spread their ideas at the National Equality March.
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