Stride Towards Equality - Part I

Every so often emails will roll around with the title, “You Know You Are a Child of the 60s, 70s, 80s…” Reading these emails remind us of a simpler time. As we read them it will make us spontaneously laugh in certain parts and reminisce about fond childhood events.


How times have changed.


Today with all the technological advances, news is literally delivered in seconds. What was once back in the day considered a blip on the screen, can become major news and the leading story based on society’s chatter on twitter, facebook, and other social networking sites. The day of what constituted the news format from 15 years ago is no more. We are in a day and age of technology, the internet and texting.


I try and hold on to the people and things that mean the most to me and bring me comfort while adapting to all the newness of modern technology. As the years have passed, I have come to appreciate the attribute of discernment. It’s not something I always appreciated when I was younger.


It’s like my own skin now; I embrace and wear it like my favorite pair of fuzzy warm socks or that favorite ratty t-shirt that you will wear on days you want to just laze around. Discernment has lead me to have a strong core group of friends. One of these friends, I have known since 10th grade. He is an adopted member of my family. He currently lives in Milan, Italy. He has lived there for the last 15 yrs. Ours is a friendship that no matter what the distance or how many weeks or months or even years may go by, when we connect it’s like yesterday.


We know each other like a well worn shoe.


So it’s not unusual to get a call out of the blue from him; towards the end of September, I got such a call. He called and without any preamble straight up asked was I going to the march. I work and go to school full time; clearly I had missed something.


I asked, “What march?”


“The National March for Equality on October 11th” he said.


As we were talking I was furiously trying to finish a report at work and web surfing for information about this march he was now yelling about in my ear. We both had to hang up the call because of other matters and a 5 hr time difference. The conversation moved to facebook and quickly deteriorated to a funny and obnoxious banter back and forth. During all the furious posts back and forth I promised to attend the march.


The National March for Equality was a march held on Sunday, October 11th, 2009, Columbus Day weekend. The march coincided with National Coming Out Day. For many gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender individuals the march was a call to action for many. The need to urge the President, Congress and the Senate to ensure equal rights for all is paramount.


The days passed by and my friend and I did not communicate very much, which is not unusual for us, but I kept making preparations for the march. An old college friend, who is a flight attendant for Delta Airlines, saw my facebook status about the march and decided to come with his life partner and his life partner’s brother. All 3 of them are gay and had never participated in a march or rally. I got on facebook again and asked to see if anyone had a jogger style stroller because I was taking my son.


No one had one and if they did they did not offer.


Not to be deterred, I continued making plans for the day.


As the time got closer I got more and more excited.


The day of the march was like any other sunny fall day in DC. I woke up and then woke up my son and got ready and dressed for church. Going to attend church in DC, all the way from Stafford, VA at my son's grandmother church is a tradition I instituted once my son was born. My son's grandmother is very involved in her church and very much a conservative black southern woman who is a walking quandary at times.


She knew I was taking him to the march. I talk about almost everything with her, especially as it concerns her grandchild since she lives so far away I try to keep her and my mom informed and feel as if they are participating in his life. My grandparents lived a block away while I was growing up and I've always known how important their presence and influence in my life has been and I am in a way of sorts trying to build the same for my son. My son's granndmother is a former participant of the civil rights marches. She is also a retired nurse. She was not in total agreement with her 2 year old grandchild attending this march; not because she was against what they were marching for but her concern was for his safety and health, in terms of being surrounded by so many people.


"Takoma Church" is for all intent and purpose like a second home. The parishioners there are almost like a second family. My mother in law prayed for us to get pregnant in front of this congregation. My son had his church blessing in this church. We have attended all special functions in this church. It is not surprising to have any and every one from this congregation come and ask about him and our well being.


On this particular Sunday, two of the church's older ladies, one is a deconess,  decided to approach me with their "concerns" after church. I was already late for the march and I still needed to go to my son's grandmother's house and change for the march. I stopped and listened to what they wanted to talk about. What I assumed would be a friendly chat about my son getting so big and how precious was my mistake.


These two women proceeded to tell me about the mistake and danger "young parents" make by letting their child(ren) be exposed to anyone and have contact with certain "types of people." That as parents we needed to once in a while listen and take the advice of our elders. At this point, I know I am going to loose whatever composure I have in front of the church, so my son's grandmother comes up and I ask her to take my son to the car.


I consider myself a very opinionated at times but there are certain lines I will never cross; telling another parent how to parent their child is one.


I strongly told these two women that while they were entitled to their own opinion, my son has a mother and a father who will raise, teach and guide him through life as we see fit. That the one thing we will never allow them or anyone else to do is teach him intolerance, discrimnation or hate. This is not an option in our household.


Needless to say the conversation deteriorated and I was quite vocal about what parts of their lives they should be concerned about and I even mentioned church "gossip" about the two of them and how they should be concerned with repairing the image the congregation has of them instead of trying to offer advise that is not wanted nor warranted


We finally made it to the march.


As I placed my son in his regular stroller, grabbed our homemade signs; I placed a call to my friends and proceeded to walk to meet up with them. Along the way, we saw people from all ethnic backgrounds and ages. There was a young man in his 20's holding a sign with his wife, who is black.


The sign read "Our marriage was once illegal".

As we walked further, we saw two elderly men holding signs.

Their signs mentioned they had been together for over 38 years and that one of them was 82 years. He was still waiting for equal rights in his lifetime.


There were various different types of couples with and with out children. Whether they were straight or gay was not the point. The point was that I saw families, happy children running around, some even coming up to my son to get him to play. Parents supporting their gay or lesbian children and a ton of college age kids that were empowered enough to voice their concerns and wanting to make a difference.


My friends and I met up and I gave my son the home made sign I made for this day.

My friends were moved to tears once they saw my son holding the sign I made. This prompted several others around us at the march to take my son's picture holding the sign. I am told his picture made it into several different types of publications as one of the many shots of the day.


I knew at that precise moment and time that I needed to capture that moment for my best friend in Milan, my son's godfather in London and all my friends on facebook, Twitter and on various listservs that could not attend but were there in spirit. I took my camera phone out and I snapped his picture.


I've had many ask me why was it so important to take my son.


My answer was not simple nor was it out of some sense or need to be provacative.


For as long as I can remember, my dad has always taken me and my younger sister to rallys, marches, hunger strikes and political rallies in Miami that are anti-Castro and anti-communism. I was too young many times to fully understand why this was important or why so many women would come just to stand there and yell and cry but I remember asking questions and looking at old photographs and asking my dad who are these people and why are they important and his answer was always the same.


"We are here because they are not. We are here because they can't speak or defend themselves. We are here becausethe world needs to know of the injustices going on in Cuba."


What I learned at that very age was that your voice matters even if those who you are speaking, marching, rallying for are not there, it matters.


Most of all I took my son and I captured that moment so that he will always remember that tolerance and love will always prevail in the face of bigotry, intolerance and hate.