"Ho-Ho-Homosexual!" The First Gay Pride March, One Year After Stonewall
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July 2, 1970, Vol. XV, No. 27
A Happy Birthday For Gay Liberation
By Jonathan Black
They stretched in a line, from Gimbels to Times Square, thousands and thousands and thousands, chanting, waving, screaming -- the outrageous and the outraged, splendid in their flaming colors, splendid in their delirious up-front birthday celebration of liberation:
"Say it clear, say it loud; gay is good, gay is proud!"
"Two-four-six-eight gay is just as good as straight!"
"Out of the closets and into the streets!"
They swept up Sixth Avenue, from Sheridan Square to Central Park, astonishing everything in their way. No one could quite believe it, eyes rolled back in heads, Sunday tourists traded incredulous looks, wondrous faces poked out of air-conditioned cars. My God, are those really homosexuals? Marching? Up Sixth Avenue?
And they were. From New York and Philadelphia and Washington and Baltimore. From Rutgers and Yale (Yale) and NYU. From staid old-line chapters of the Mattachine Society and the Daughters of Bilitis, to Gay Activists, to the political radicals of Gay Liberation Front and the radical lesbians from the Lavender Menace. "Together," they shouted, "together! G-a-y P-o-w-e-r. What does it spell? Gay Power! Again Louder! GAY POWER!"
It was an event, the first mass coordinated event of the gay liberation movement. One year old this week. One year since the Sixth Precinct raided the Stonewall Inn on Christopher Street, and those insane, freaked-out sexed-up drag queens went berserk and clawed back, actually fought with police in the streets and rioted, sent cops to the hospital, overturned cars, lit fires, and showed all the closet timmies that enough was enough, that the growing harassment and repression and terror was much too much. Too much bullshit from bar owners and Mafia and police and all the rest of pious straight society that thought gay was simply a huge giggle.
And here they were. Out in the streets again. Not the precious birthday party queers of "Boys in the Band," not the limp-wristed, pinky-ringed, sad-eyed faggots of uptown chic, but shouting men and women with locked arms and raised fists.
Gay Pride Week began a bit more quietly, with a Wednesday sit-in action at Republican State Committee headquarters by Gay Activists Alliance, GAA is an activist offshoot of GLF, but confines its focus to homosexual questions, equality, and civil rights. It split from GLF when GLF became involved in Black Panther demonstrations. GAA is more militant than Mattachine and more sedate than GLF, which identifies with all oppressed groups, and is somewhat anarchic-freak in style and structure. GAA has worked to put pressure on elected officials to end job discrimination and sodomy laws, and says it might have provided the margin of victory for Bella Abzug, who got a rousing reception at a GAA meeting she addressed.
Seven members of GAA sat in at the Committee's 12th floor offices on 56th Street, demanding a public response from Governor Rockefeller, while a picket line of several dozen paraded outside to the bewilderment of East Side passers-by. There was no satisfactory answer from Rockefeller's office, however -- the only Republican official present was a woman, and as a Committee spokesman explained, "I really don't think this is a...uh...subject that a lady would find...uh...palatable." That pretty much ended an possibility of dialogue, and the first seven sit-ins of the gay movement were quietly arrested when the Committee's office closed...
Mafia control of gay bars is a continuing source of oppression for homosexuals. Many gays complain of exorbitant cover charges, watered drinks, over-crowding, and the constant threat of raids, terror, and embarrassment. Even the location of gay bars is oppressive with many tucked in underground haunts and others located in the raunchy Siberia of Leather Land, under the shadow of parked trucks and the West Side Highway. Few gays offer any specifics about Mafia control, but gang influence seems pervasive, with a little help from the SLA, police, and public morality that condemns gays to a forbidden zone...
Who is a latent homosexual? That is the threat posed by gay liberation. It is a challenge to shed our protective skin and open up all the insides. The implications of gay liberation are not that everyone is gay, or that everyone should be gay ("you can't knit a homosexual," said one GLFer), or even that everyone must have a gay experience. The implications are that we must begin to cope with our own non-sexist loves and affections, and not let our sexual preferences distort and color our entire emotional life. To that extent, gay liberation is not a problem, but perhaps the most profoundly revolutionary movement we are in touch with.
Ideally, bisexuality is the pot of gold. But practically, there appear to be few honest bisexuals. Many male homosexuals who do have affairs with women, or are married and have affairs with men, often are simply clinging to the respectability and rewards of the heterosexual life, unwilling to accept the full impact of being gay. For straights, it is tempting to use bisexuality as a prophylactic in confronting the threat of the gay movement. Exclusive homosexuality, after all, is just as repressive and dehumanizing as exclusive heterosexuality. Even if there is some significant biological reality to bisexuality, however, it is clear that politically that logic belongs to an era when integration was the yellow brick road. As long as gays are oppressed, as long as gays are beaten on 14th Street and quarantined in underground bars, as long as they are told they are less than complete, less than normal, less than human, then the first step in gay liberation must follow that of black liberation: black is beautiful, gay is good. And maybe when we can see through the screens of our own fears and frailties, then we can begin to talk about integration and bisexuality.
Certainly Sunday's march was a monumental step. Not everyone was quite ready for it. As the crowds began to swell around Sheridan Square, one man was pacing back and forth, and muttering "It's too soon, it's too soon." A Christopher Street resident told an interviewer, "Mankind is falling apart. It's like the Roman era. Everything is decadent." An irate older woman was having a fit because the assemblage was disrupting her 1 o'clock mass. Startled onlookers were doing triple takes at the spectacle, men kissing men in the street, women kissing women, everyone holding hands, and the crayoned signs of the Lavender Menace reading "We are the dykes your mother warned you about," "Sappho was a right-on woman, "Everything you think we are, WE ARE!"
Among the marchers themselves, the majority were young, political, and freak. It was clear that the quiet West Enders still wanted to keep their homosexuality private, still saw their sex life non-politically, and were hesitant to share it with tv cameras, tourists, employers, and families.
For sheer power of analysis, however, the day's award must go to a burly-looking straight with a football helmet and letter jersey, interviewed for tv in Sheep's Meadow. "What do you make of all this?" he was asked. "Well, I'm from Alabama," he explained, "and at home you back into 'em everywhere. But it sure is something to see 'em all united. Hell, it sure is something."
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