Recently, I was honored by the Colorado Springs
community as an Indy Inclusion Legacy Award recipient. This annual award has
honored people who have been on the frontlines of activism for the queer
community. Last year I was an honoree for this award and this year, I was named
as one of the top five activists of the previous winners.
Last year I was the first person to be called up to
receive my award and I decided to simply say thank you, in the interest of
time. 😊 But this year, as a legacy winner, I
figured a small speech would be in order.
The Colorado Springs Independent weekly newspaper, who
sponsors this award has chosen, from the inception of this honor to celebrate
the winners at a “White Party.” For many people, this means nothing more than
wearing white. But I knew better and wanted to link the meaning of the White
Party to what we are currently facing as social justice activists. Below is the
text of my speech I gave when accepting my award.
As you know the white
parties originated in the gay male community during the US AIDS years.
I remember living through those years; the devastation of AIDS growing more and more each day as, each day our government remained silent. AIDS was, in the words of one ACT UP activist, a terrifying war that no one seemed to see, except the combatants, those who were fighting for their lives or the lives of our friends.
Like now, rallies and protests seemed to be almost a weekly thing.
Our Protest chants went from we’re here, we’re queer, get used to it!!
To:
We’re here, we’re queer, We’re fabulous! (snap)
To
We’re here, we’re queer and We’re not going shopping!
That one was a nod to how gay men were always the most stylish.
If lesbians led the chants it would’ve been
We’re here, we’re queer, And we’re not playing softball!
But those chants were more than defiant cheers in marches---we had marches then-not parades.
What we were saying collectively is that we’re not going about our business as usual. We are putting our lives on hold to fight this battle.
You can’t lull us into complacency with clothes or sports or the mindless activities that make up the days of so many whose heads were stuck in the sand.
And the white parties, too, were more than just fabulous soirées with dancing, drinking and seeing who had indeed gone shopping for the event and look fabulous in their white attire.
It was a way to celebrate life, to cherish each breath, to come together, to remind one another that even if the U.S. government had decided to write off the entire gay male community as a lost cause-- and good riddance –that they were not so easily gotten rid of. And that their accomplices (not allies, allies implies you’re helping me with my issue, accomplice says you’re aiding and abetting in an issue that impacts us all, that' we're all queer)their accomplices—lesbians, parents, straight folk would do all we could to seek justice, research, treatment for their friends, family members, everyone with HIV.
They wore white to counter the black attire they had worn to too many memorial services. They wore white to declare the goodness of their lives, the purity of their loves.
And so as we gather tonight at this fabulous White Party, I want to say how honored I am to receive this legacy award. And to remind us that it is still important in these perilous times when so many marginalized groups are under attack, not by a virus, but by a xenophobic culture of white straight privilege that has toppled our very government, it is so important in these times when children are torn from their parents arms to be put in cages, when trans rights and lgbtq rights so recently won are threatened in this strange new world. It is important in these times to come together to celebrate the purity of our lives and our loves to reclaim the goodness of who we are, and to chant loudly and proudly we’re here, we’re queer and we’re voting in November.
I remember living through those years; the devastation of AIDS growing more and more each day as, each day our government remained silent. AIDS was, in the words of one ACT UP activist, a terrifying war that no one seemed to see, except the combatants, those who were fighting for their lives or the lives of our friends.
Like now, rallies and protests seemed to be almost a weekly thing.
Our Protest chants went from we’re here, we’re queer, get used to it!!
To:
We’re here, we’re queer, We’re fabulous! (snap)
To
We’re here, we’re queer and We’re not going shopping!
That one was a nod to how gay men were always the most stylish.
If lesbians led the chants it would’ve been
We’re here, we’re queer, And we’re not playing softball!
But those chants were more than defiant cheers in marches---we had marches then-not parades.
What we were saying collectively is that we’re not going about our business as usual. We are putting our lives on hold to fight this battle.
You can’t lull us into complacency with clothes or sports or the mindless activities that make up the days of so many whose heads were stuck in the sand.
And the white parties, too, were more than just fabulous soirées with dancing, drinking and seeing who had indeed gone shopping for the event and look fabulous in their white attire.
It was a way to celebrate life, to cherish each breath, to come together, to remind one another that even if the U.S. government had decided to write off the entire gay male community as a lost cause-- and good riddance –that they were not so easily gotten rid of. And that their accomplices (not allies, allies implies you’re helping me with my issue, accomplice says you’re aiding and abetting in an issue that impacts us all, that' we're all queer)their accomplices—lesbians, parents, straight folk would do all we could to seek justice, research, treatment for their friends, family members, everyone with HIV.
They wore white to counter the black attire they had worn to too many memorial services. They wore white to declare the goodness of their lives, the purity of their loves.
And so as we gather tonight at this fabulous White Party, I want to say how honored I am to receive this legacy award. And to remind us that it is still important in these perilous times when so many marginalized groups are under attack, not by a virus, but by a xenophobic culture of white straight privilege that has toppled our very government, it is so important in these times when children are torn from their parents arms to be put in cages, when trans rights and lgbtq rights so recently won are threatened in this strange new world. It is important in these times to come together to celebrate the purity of our lives and our loves to reclaim the goodness of who we are, and to chant loudly and proudly we’re here, we’re queer and we’re voting in November.
