I have the privilege of serving the bi community as Executive Director of the American Institute of Bisexuality, a nonprofit with its headquarters in downtown Los Angeles. Our office, which doubles as an event space, is known locally as “the bi loft”. It is only steps away from the former location of Cooper Do-nuts, the site of America’s first uprising against the police mistreatment of LGBT people, back in May 1959.
That historic shop on Main Street, which was wedged between two gay bars, has long since been razed and replaced with a huge parking lot. Still, when I pass by I often wonder: could the gay and bi men, trans women, and street hustlers who threw donuts, coffee, trash, sugar packets, mugs, and anything else they could find as they fought back against the police have foreseen the revolution that was coming? Could they have imagined entire communities of out, proud LGBT people across the globe? Did they dare to dream big enough to think that the U.S. and 34 additional countries (as of May 2023) would have marriage equality — i.e., full legal recognition of same-sex relationships? How about nationwide, federal employment protections for America’s LGBT people?
Every June, we hear retellings of the history of Pride and of the LGBT movement in general. Some of them are grounded in fact, but a great many could more accurately be described as a projection of current political priorities onto the past. History can be a great teacher, showing us the possibilities and pitfalls, revealing what efforts can and can’t work — but only if we try to understand it accurately. With no tradition of passing on knowledge, and having lost so many of our elders to AIDS, our community's understanding of its own history is often incomplete and distorted. In the interest of exploring some of those gaps, I'd like to challenge the dominant narrative that Pride — and, indeed, the entire LGBT movement — originated at Stonewall. Because, in fact, thousands of unsung heroes around the world were fighting for our rights long before that night in New York.
On June 28, 1969, riots broke out at the Stonewall Inn on Christopher Street in New York City. While this wasn't the first, second, or even third LGBT uprising against police brutality, it took place at a moment of seismic cultural shifts. In the wake of the Civil Rights Movement (lead in part by a Black and (closeted) gay man named Bayard Rustin), the increasingly unpopular Vietnam War, and the nearly global protests against oppression and injustice that erupted in 1968, the patrons of Stonewall were in no mood to passively comply with homophobic harassment by the NYPD.
What came next has become the stuff of legend, though concrete details about who did what, and who showed up when are murky at best. What we do know is that the patrons of the Stonewall Inn refused to comply with the police demand that everyone provide ID and that anyone who appeared to be cross-dressing submit to genital inspections by a female officer. Unable to handle the situation, the police called for backup and tried to detain the crowd who were waiting around so that they could be processed when more cops arrived. Instead, they got 6 days and nights of rioting, demonstrations, and destruction of property.
Since the riot took place in the middle of Manhattan — at the very heart of NYC — the Stonewall uprising made front-page news. Not only did the press coverage attract even more queer people to the protests over the following nights, but it spread a new image across the world: of bold LGBT people who weren’t afraid to stand up for their rights.
In 1969, gay rights became a cause célèbre among the American Left. Emboldened by the sudden surge in public support, new, more audacious organizations like the Gay Liberation Front, which defined itself as "the militant arm of the gay movement”, sprung up all over the country.
Like that night at Stonewall, the history of Pride is obscured by myth and conflicting stories. Contrary to much of the popular lore, Stonewall was not the start of the LGBT movement. Nor did Pride or the LGBT movement as we know it originate in New York. Instead, Stonewall was a tipping point that, as a result of all the press coverage and the general zeitgeist, took the existing, over 100-year-old “gay rights” movement to previously unimaginable new levels of visibility.
By the 1960s, a century of LGBT activism had already given us the concept of sexual orientation; awareness of gender diversity; terms such as “heterosexual” and “homosexual”, which allowed us to describe our behavior in morally neutral, scientific terms rather than as something criminal; and had developed services like hormone therapy and gender confirmation surgery for trans people. Granted, many of these advances happened in Europe, where vibrant pockets of LGBT life had suffered tragic setbacks on the rise of fascism.
In the United States, on the other hand, pre-Stonewall LGBT activism tended to be a more assimilationist and timid scene. But there were exceptions: LA-based artists Tom of Finland and Bob Mizer created a new paradigm by casting aside stereotypes of the tragic gay man in favor of the proud, happy gay man. In the process, they sparked a new community of admirers of the male physique, men who were drawn to other men but not necessarily to activism — men who wanted to consume gay-oriented goods and services.
Also in Los Angeles, Steve Ginsberg founded PRIDE (Personal Rights in Defense and Education) in 1966.
So yes, the term “Pride” itself came from Los Angeles — not from New York.
In direct contrast to America’s existing “homophile” (a preferred term in the 1950s) scene, which avoided drawing attention to itself, PRIDE was loud and in your face. Its members shocked the gay establishment by showing up in full leather gear, dressing provocatively, and celebrating their sexuality in public. They called their meetings “Pride Night” and gave The Hub, the gay bar in which they met, the nickname “Pride Hall”. In 1967, PRIDE helped protest police abuses at LA's Black Cat gay bar. In May 1968, PRIDE co-hosted the first “Gay-In” at Griffith Park. It was designed as a bold celebration of acceptance and brought LGBT life out into the open. Billed as fun and educational, it began with a primer on police harassment and ended with a bar crawl. It was so popular that the event was followed by a second Gay-In in July.
In other words, the makings of Pride as we know it had already been established before Stonewall. Oh, and PRIDE, the organization? Its newsletter became The Advocate magazine and lives on to this day.
In 1968, also in Los Angeles, Reverend Troy Perry founded the Metropolitan Community Church (MCC). He advertised his first service in PRIDE’s newsletter. Demand for an LGBT-affirming Christianity proved so great that within months he had to move MCC from his modest living room to a 600-seat church.
On June 28, 1970, activists in New York, Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Chicago commemorated the Stonewall riots with “Christopher Street Day” — what we would now call Pride.
When LA activists started planning to commemorate the Stonewall riots, Reverend Perry took the bold move of applying for a parade permit for “Christopher Street West”. He felt that the local culture of Los Angeles, and Hollywood in particular, called for a jubilant celebration with floats and banners, rather than the protest marches planned in other U.S. cities.
LA Police Chief Ed Davis told reporters that he would rather approve a march of "thieves and burglars" than of homosexuals (homosexuality was illegal in California until 1976). The LA Police Commission voted 4 to 1 to place deliberately impossible conditions on the parade permit: 1) a bond for a million dollars to pay the businesses damaged by the rocks they imagined people would throw at the paraders; 2) a cash bond of $500,000; and 3) the requirement that there were at least 5,000 marchers. But Perry and the activists prevailed when they managed to convince the ACLU — which had refused to come to the aid of LGBT organizations in the 1950s — to help. That same day, the California Superior Court ordered the Police Commission to issue a permit on receipt of a $1,500 security payment. All other requirements were dropped.
Thankfully, the parade itself was a success. It drew a large crowd and there were no significant problems.
The first Pride parade was accompanied by, you guessed it, another Gay-In.
So the first Pride (at least in LA) had all the ingredients we have come to expect, but how has Pride changed over the past five decades?
Pride Flags
It's almost unimaginable now, but the rainbow flag we have come to consider synonymous with Pride and the LGBT community in general wasn't invented until 1978, when Gilbert Baker shared his flag with the world for the first time in San Francisco.
The bi pride flag didn't exist until 1998. The trans flag didn't exist until 1999. The sense of community and connectedness these flags have helped create is hard to overstate.
Mainstream Acceptance
Of the four "Christopher Street" marches that took place in 1970, three were permitless guerrilla protest marches. Organizers in LA had to sue the city for the right to a parade permit. Since then, the situation in North America has changed rather dramatically. Hosting Pride seems to have become a right of passage for many cities, a sign of cosmopolitanism and inclusivity and, let's face it, a way to bring in tourist dollars. In LA County alone, we now have over a dozen Pride festivals and there are at least a dozen more in neighboring counties.
For better or worse, companies that once wouldn't serve or hire us now spend a lot of money advertising to us and often help pay for the cost of organizing Pride. In fact, many Prides have become so large and commercial that they feel very corporate and distant from their grassroots.
A Global Phenomenon
From its humble beginnings in four cities, Pride has spread around the world. From Amsterdam to Taipei, to Johannesburg, to Mexico City, Pride has become a huge event. There is even a "World Pride", held in a different host city each year. The right to host it is awarded in a bidding process somewhat reminiscent of the Olympics. New York City currently holds the record for the largest Pride ever with over 5,000,000 people in attendance.
Actual Pride
At my first Pride (San Diego in 2001), I remember seeing several people wearing brown paper bags over their heads. The sight was jarring, but I immediately knew what it meant: They wanted to stand up for their rights and their community, but didn't dare be public about it because they feared losing their jobs, their families, and more. In the 70s and 80s, that was a pretty common sight at many Pride parades. Although there is still no shortage of people who have to hide their sexuality in today’s world, Pride has helped remove stigmas and created a sense that being part of the LGBT community can be cool and fun. In fact, many straight people now attend Pride in order to enjoy the party.
The Future of Pride
Pride is not without its shortcomings. There have been many criticisms that Pride festivities are dominated by financially well-off, conventionally attractive, white, gay men. The bi community is too often neglected, excluded, or even shunned at these events — this can be especially true of bi people with different-sex partners. Many of us are lucky enough to live in countries where it is safe to be open about our sexualities, but there are still places where LGBT people are struggling to attain basic human rights, let alone the ability to come together, build community, and celebrate.
Every summer, our social media feeds are filled with discussions of the origins of Pride, many of which delve into new mythologies and project current themes onto the past. I think it helps to remember that even though the fight for LGBT rights did not start at Stonewall, those nights of rioting changed the conversation dramatically. They brought decades of difficult — often thankless — LGBT activism out of the shadows and into the daylight, where the movement could finally grow into its potential and bear fruit.
If we want to continue to achieve progress and hold the line against those who wish to set us back, our movement will rely upon the kindness and hard work of thousands of largely anonymous and unknown activists. Stardom and drama make for popular social media posts, but boring old hard work is what actually makes the world better. Let's use this time to celebrate our queerness and wave our flags. But let's also reflect on the long battles that generations of our ancestors fought on our behalf and, in their honor, figure out how to effectively and strategically continue the fight to make our society more inclusive, fair, and healthy for people of all sexual orientations and gender identities.
Comments
Facebook Comments