I didn't know Bill Clayton. In fact, I don't know the rest of his family very well, either, and so I am torn when I speak about him. Bill's death has affected me in so many ways, as a "queer" youth trying to make it in a heterosexual and often homophobic world. I was born two years after Bill, and never laid an eye on him, but still I feel so much remorse for what he went through. And yet, I am so grateful for what Gabi, Alec, and Noel have fought for on his behalf; on my own behalf.
There is a GLBT organization on my campus. There are PFLAG support groups all over the country, as well as some pro-GLBT indoctrination in the elementary and high schools, and numerous political groups rallying for GLBT rights. And yet, like Bill, I am isolated in my struggle. We've been taught, as people of alternative sexuality, that there are appropriate places to talk about it, mostly amongst our own. Going outside of the circle puts us at risk for attack, both verbal and physical. And because the support for legislation is not unanimous (even within the GLBT community), and isn't forceful enough, almost nothing gets passed to change that. Even the most liberal presidential candidates, if they are seeking election, downplay the issue of gay marriage, as if it were an oxymoron, as if queer people don't deserve the same benefits, because we aren't normal.
Perhaps this stagnation is rooted in that there are so many divisions within the community. And yes, there is a community, assuming one believes they were born "queer." It's just easier to hide from, because unlike race, if you aren't stereotypically "gay," or ardently militant about showing it, you're not going to be pegged. The divisions are unique; there are those of us who are "closeted" because of fear, because of self-hatred, because of personal beliefs, because of uncertainty, because of ambivalence or apathy.... I don't necessarily mean closeted in the way that is normally used. If you are in the closet, you are not standing up for your rights as a human being. I can't tell you how many Jews and gypsies and homosexuals and so many others died in the Holocaust because the Nazis impinged upon their rights. You say the machine was too big, there was nothing that could have been done. I challenge you to think of one way it could have been different. And it doesn't have to happen specifically within a community. Had FDR done more, earlier, and abandoned the idle passions of the country for integrity, something might have been done. Had someone with greater vision spoken up against slavery at its inception, perhaps Black people wouldn't have waited a hundred years for their freedom and the right to vote.
I am in no way perfect, and I don't necessarily follow my own advice. I live on a very small campus where homophobia is obviously rampant, though it has not directly affected my life. I'm only out to one of my parents, neither of my siblings, and almost none of my friends from home. But I'm trying. I struggle with how hard it is, and I fear the consequences of acting up, of coming out, of demanding my rights.
They are posting signs everywhere, like they did in Berlin. Maybe we won't be able to eat in restaurants if it's with a same sex partner. Don't deny it can happen. It happened to the Jews, and the gypsies, and the homosexuals, and Christians who supported these minorities. And don't say because we live in America that it won't happen again, because even Al Gore, arguably the most liberal of the presidential candidates, recognizes the "sanctity" of the word marriage in reference to one man, one woman. Can there really be no one in power on our side? Can we let that continue? What will we have to say to the next generation of GLBT teenagers who look to us for guidance?
Don't ignore the signs. Bill Clayton deserved more.
Olympia PFLAG Heartbeat page ~ Olympia PFLAG homepage