As LGBT* people, we often refer to other LGBT people as “our community;” a cozy notion that enables us to stand our ground and apply the safety-in-numbers line of defense. For those of us who are community elders (who knew LGBT people got old?), we see a continuum of life that tells a history of changes, while acknowledging that we’re still not considered first class citizens. Our generation has proven ourselves to be resilient and adaptable. That doesn’t mean we don’t all carry our own wounds; but it does mean that we have, and continue to have, productive, creative, lives.
Of course we all play our many and various roles in the larger communities of our towns and cities. And at no time of year is community more prominent than on the 4th of July. Known for its scrubbed, clean images, this iconic holiday promotes the American story in shades of red, white and blue. .JPG)
It was a moment when we moved from “our community” to the larger community. As Buz said, we were “stepping up and stepping out.” A doctor came over to us to say she’d like to refer her LGBT patients to our group; a teenage girl asked if she could carry one of our signs because she wanted to support us. There were waves, cheers, and thumbs up. There were also, I have to admit, blank stares and disinterest; but no overly ripe fruit projectiles.
Having everyone in town looking at you, just as you’re shouting, I’m gay!, can make a guy wish he’d stayed home, arranging flowers. We all had our version of dread and sudden thoughts of retreat; however, for our small group, it was cleansing that left us feeling proud and shame-free.*Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender.
