bryanjazz

Below are a few pictures I took at the Millions More March. My own participation this year was much more ambivalent than it was 10 years ago at the Million Man March. It just didn't call to me as much as the excitement about the first march did. (My photographs aren't even inspiring, LOL. See great photos from the March at Brothalauva Cafe.) Back then, I marched with the LGBT group as we made a statement about visibility and inclusion. This year I arrived later in the afternoon (after doing some volunteer work earlier in the day) mainly to meet some friends who were already down there. The difference this year, however, was that there was supposed to be a representative of the National Black Justice Coalition (NBJC) addressing the crowd, in what would have been a major step forward in healing many of the wounds homophobia has inflicted in the Black community. What would have been...

NBJC's representative, however, Keith Boykin, was prevented from speaking at the March at the last minute...literally. There is much commentary (see, e.g., Pam's House Blend and Sex and the Second City) on Black LGBT participation in this year's March. I was just gonna post my pics, but then I had a couple of things I thought I'd share (then I went on a bit). :-) I have to disagree with Terrence's view at The Republic of T (though I usually share his political perspective) in which he concludes, as he has before,

So, why even bother trying to make inroads into black communities where we, as black gay people, are not welcome or wanted? Sometimes it turns out that home was never really home to begin with.

This notion of "coming home," which we invoke often, while excellent and poetic, I just don't think applies to most Black gays and lesbians. I think most of us have not "left home" but are integral parts of the Black community (as teachers, doctors, lawyers, business owners, etc.), working to "uplift the race" like a lot of other Black folks. Many of us, however, are home in silence, not sharing ourselves fully, for the reality of possible persecution or alienation at home is real should we choose to do so. To me, the point of a speaker at the March was not to say "We're coming home?" but rather to let folks know we are here (home), we are and always have been with you, and we always will be. (Indeed, we are you.) I think the point is telling our community "Hey, you know what, I'm working to improve our people's lives, too, so instead of bashing me because of who I love, why don't you take that energy and help me save that brother or sister on the street, or help me clean up this school, or help me teach these children over here to read." Kinda like what the theme of the March was supposed to be...only for real: unity.

This point was beautifully articulated in Keith's undelivered address:

And finally, I want you to know that we are your brothers and sons and fathers. We are your sisters and daughters and mothers. And we are your cousins and nieces and nephews as well. We cannot separate ourselves from the larger Black family because we are an integral part of the Black family. We raise our families, we send money to our nephews, and yes we sing in the choir as well.

...

When Black people were forced to sit in the back of the bus, Black gay people were forced to sit in the back of the bus. When Black people could not vote, Black lesbians could not vote. And when Black people are beaten and abused by the police, Black bisexuals are beaten and abused by the police.

We share the same goals and aspirations as the rest of the Black community, but none of us can accomplish those goals without unity and courage.
(click here for complete address)

To me, it's simply sad that the attendees did not get to hear this speech. Sad, not only because it would have been an opportunity to open up positive dialogue about inclusion and acceptance in our community, but also because the very act of blocking its delivery was an act of smallness and disunity amongst those who are our so-called leaders.

[Note: We could also use more unity within the Black LGBT/SGL community as well. I applaud and admire Keith's courage and willingness to address the gathering, standing as one voice among a million, adressing issues many find uncomfortable. And, I also applaud Cleo Manago who actually did address the gathering as a same-gender-loving man of African descent. (A label distinction which I ultimately find more divisive than useful. I'll post something about that at another time.)]

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Maybe we should take a different approach. I think we should have had a plan to bum rush the stage if we were not allowed to address our people. I'm not talking about violence, but simply a planned and coordinated effort to get what we wanted (and which was agreed to) no matter what. Tell the press it's going to happen beforehand, and then proceed to the podium at a predetermined time. Now, perhaps folks would have gotten arrested and not allowed to speak anyway, yet as history has shown us, civil disobedience is often the only way some folks are moved. Maybe we shouldn't just turn around and go home because they tell us we can't play. We've got to stop letting a handful of bigots set the tone of the dialogue. (In fact, judging from Cleo's reflections regarding the response he recceived after giving his address, the bigots are fewer than the open hearts.) Farrakhan, himself, hinted at this in his speech (perrhaps unknowingly), when he referred to one US president who told civil rights leaders to force him to take action which he was inclined to take, because a simple request could not be granted because of the politics of those around him. If National Black Justice Coalition leaders believe, as they have stated, that Farrakhan has shifted in his position and is now open to hearing the voice of Black LGBTs, then perhaps it is time to force him to take action in that regard (whether or not his shift in position is genuine). Maybe our movement for civil rights is mired in too much civility.