J.P. Jackson

It’s June, and you know what that means – that’s right – it’s Pride Month.

Except, I’m not feeling a lot of Pride this year.

1.) COVID19 is a rampant virus and we are in the middle of a worldwide pandemic.

2.) There are governments near and far that still refuse to acknowledge, legitimize, and pass legislation that allows for LGBTQIA+ folx to be safe, equal, and protected.

3.) The murder of George Floyd by Minneapolis Police Officers has brought to light, once again, the insidious undercurrent of racism in our communities.

Leahy Cartoons (Twitter)

Like everyone else, my social media has been flooded with blackout profile pictures, video images of riots and looting, news articles depicting the protesters (peaceful and otherwise), and I can’t help but feel angry.

And disappointed.

And exhausted.

But let me tell you why.

I completely understand the anger of my brothers and sisters who are fighting against systemic and institutionalized racism. You see, I’ve been fighting a similar fight with homophobia and bigotry for decades too. Ever since I came out as a gay man in the early 90’s, I’ve had to fight for:

• My right to not lose my job based on my sexual orientation.
• My right to move ahead in this world, to better myself.
• My right to marry.
• My right to adopt children.
• My right to be protected under the law.
• My right to not be denied housing based on who I choose to live with.
• My right to love who I want.
• My right to wear what I want, when I want.
• My right to exist.

And we’re still not there. I don’t get it. As early as a year ago, my husband and I went to a music festival with family and friends. It was a camping kind of weekend, and we were surrounded by heterosexual people. We were all having a great time, and of course, everybody was up and dancing…until the slow songs started.

My husband and I left the dance floor.

Now, my family and straight friends were having none of that. “Get out there and dance with your man!” They cried.

We both shook our heads.

We didn’t feel safe. It wasn’t safe. And frankly, even if it was partly safe to do so, we’d still get the side-eye glances and disparaging looks.

What a buzz kill. The party was essentially over. And even though we had well-meaning cheerleaders in our group who I know would have protected us should anything had started – just the fact that these were the thoughts that ran through my head – and the fact that those thoughts and the deeply engrained feeling of “I’m not safe” existed at all, killed the evening’s activities.

But I had the ability to walk away. I am an invisible minority. I don’t have to worry about the color of my skin. I can hide if I have to.

So I get the rage, I get the anger, I get the exhaustion that Black communities have endured for WAY LONGER THAN I HAVE.

Did you know that slavery lasted for about 400 years?

400 fucking years.

OMG. I thought I was tired after 30 years of fighting. I thought I was angry. I thought I was disappointed in a society that has had every opportunity to get used to something different, acknowledge the difference, embrace it, and rejoice in the diversity. Imagine all the steps forward we could make as a species if we just said, “Every one of us is different, gifted, talented and valued. We cherish those differences, and we add your talents to our table. We value your input.” Think about what that would do for us.

Think about where we could be as a race!

Maybe we’d have stable and flourishing ecosystems all over the globe.

Maybe we’d have fixed world hunger and everyone had food on their next plate.

Maybe we’d accept and cherish the multitude of customs, traditions, and practices of everyone – realizing that not all were meant for us – but respecting them for being right for someone else.

Maybe we’d just be damn better human beings!

Last note – All the riots and protesting that is happening around the world right now is because of hundreds of years of being disappointed, exhausted, and unsafe. No one ever should be worried about leaving their house in fear of their own lives. No one. Ever.

It was on June 28, 1969, the Stonewall Riots happened, in part initiated by People of Color. Together as a community, Drag queens, gay, lesbian, and transgender folx finally reached the breaking point after years of feeling angry, disappointed, and exhausted by the mistreatment they incurred regularly by the police (beaten and arrested for just being who they were). They fought back. Sound familiar?

Stonewall Riots happened 51 years ago this month. And now we have Race Riots happening again for the same reasons. People are being mistreated, beaten, and arrested just for the color of their skin.

Look how similar the two images are. 51 years apart.
“A riot is the language of the unheard.” Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

It’s wrong.

It has to stop.

I’m too tired, angry, and disappointed to live the remainder of my days in a world where we can’t celebrate our differences, enjoy the diversity of our species, and lift each other up and sing each other’s praises.

We are all valuable.

If you can’t get on board with that, please feel free to leave. The exit is that way.