40 years ago LGBT people were fighting for their lives on the streets outside Stonewall. Last week the first ever LGBT group marched down Pennsylvania Avenue by invitation of the President.
I was there.
K and I woke up long before dawn to make our flight to DC. The trip over was seamless. Every stranger we crossed was in high spirits... it seemed as if everyone was basking in the soon-to-be reality of positive change. The weekend promised to be freezing and beyond crowded... but no one seemed to care. The lobby of our hotel was reminiscent of election night... everyone was cheering and laughing and chanting "O-BA-MA! O-BA-MA!" Who knew the Hilton could be so happenin'?
I was too excited to sleep well during much of the trip, but the rush of adrenaline kept me going well past Inauguration day. The organizers of LGBA accomplished an amazing feat of preparing 177 musicians for the performance of a lifetime. As Lisa D'Amore, LGBA President, explained:
How many of you have cats? How many of you have ever tried to get your cat to do anything? Now picture your house with 180 cats. Now picture it with 180 gay musician cats.
The Successful Herding of Cats
Sunday--our first of two rehearsal days--tested the limits of our ability to pull off this amazing feat.
We rehearsed at St. Elizabeth's hospital, the first large-scale, federally-run psychiatric hospital in the US. Founded by Congress, the nearly 200 year-old institution has held a number of presidential assassins (including Reagan's would-be assassin John Hinckley, Jr) as well as other high profile mental health patients. Needless to say, many LGBA musicians took a moment to pause when realizing that 35 years earlier we might have found ourselves on the other side of its walls.
Amen for progress.
Anyway, over 6 hours of rehearsing and marching tested the effectiveness of my prednisone therapy and fortunately I was not among those who dropped out. I did, however, have a very large dinner.
We showed up on Day Two of rehearsal in our uniforms, which proved to be quite warm in the frigid DC temperature. Unfortunately we looked like gay French rolls of duct tape. Even so, we wore them with pride.
Day Two of rehearsal brought more tests of will and strength. Still sore from the day before, we marched another 5+ hours without rest. As I told the Seattle Times, "The best way I can think to describe it is walking home from the store while carrying full grocery bags in front of your nose and reading at the same time... for five hours straight."
At the end of the day, our organizers said we looked and sounded like a completely different band... like we had been marching together for many months instead of mere hours.
The Big Day
Tuesday we arrived at the Ballston Mall to receive our secret service credentials and share a yummy breakfast. Rice Majors, artistic director of LGBA, shared this story:
When Kim and I were finished with our mandatory meeting on Monday evening, we were approached by a series of uniformed military personnel who wanted to shake our hands and wish us luck. At first, I attributed this all to good relationship management but it seemed that we were being approached by more folks than was strictly necessary for that, and I began to realize what these people were really saying to us.
And then, as we went to leave, one more young man chased us down the hallway so that he wouldn't miss his chance to shake our hands and wish us well. There was an intensity to his well wishes that moved me past simple realization to a much deeper understanding of what our performance was going to mean for people who cannot live their lives as openly as I do in my protective bubble of San Francisco.
I made it to the Metro train before I started crying.
We boarded our buses around 9 AM and headed to the Pentagon for security screening. We spent 8 long hours on the bus that day, minus the hour we waited outside while our buses were searched. The parade was delayed because of Ted Kennedy's seizure and a horse that twisted its ankle. It was dark by the time we lined up to march. Thank goodness we had all those rehearsal hours behind us. I'm not sure daylight would have done much good, though, since my eyes were full of tears once we hit the start line.
Military personnel and secret service agents were distributed every two feet along the parade route. I should take a moment to fill you in on our directives:
You're allowed to breathe, you're allowed to blow into the instrument or hit it, but don't do anything else or you'll get shot.
Seriously. This is what the national security liaison told us during rehearsal. A hand in the pocket was an open invitation to receive threatening action upon our lives. It was a threat to national security to march too close or too far behind the group in front of us.
I have to hand it to the organizers of LGBA. All performers had to submit a signed contract that said we would follow directions and do as we're told before being accepted as part of the Inaugural contingent. I applaud the organizers of LGBA for holding us accountable to those promises and addressing issues when they arose.
The parade route was surreal. The floodlights on the buildings gave them an ominous glow as we passed by. Thus far, my time in DC had been spent underground on the Metro and marching around St. Elizabeth's. This was my first introduction to DC and its host of landmarks. Our military escort walked us down Constitution Avenue and Desmond, the trumpeter to my right, became my tour guide. American History Museum. Natural History Museum. Department of Justice. National Archives. We slowed down, made a sharp left onto Pennsylvania Avenue, and heard our roll-off. Two sharp whistles blew and we marched forward into history.
The first thing I noticed was military personnel. Yes, they were every two feet. But they weren't nearly as threatening and intimidating as we were warned they would be. Many of them were snapping photos and cheering us on... an echo of Rice Major's earlier testimony. Other people were shouting "I LOVE YOU!" and "THANK YOU! THANK YOU!" at the top of their lungs.
We turned the corner in front of Freedom Plaza where Obama's viewing stand was. A flood of blinding lights washed over us. The wall of bleachers to our left was empty... evidence of a long day and subfreezing temperature. Obama was there, though, and we lifted our instruments to play for him and his family. I was afraid to look at the Obamas out of fear for missing a note or falling out of line. So I played. I played with more heart than I've ever played. I played as if the notes from Washington Post could somehow solidify this bridge that was built between LGBT people and the President. I played so he could hear wonderful music and maybe, just maybe, he would never forget the positive, every-day contributions LGBT people make to this nation. I played for the rights of LGBT people everywhere, so that fear and uncertainty could be met with security and comfort. I played so that honesty and acceptance could replace false-witness and abandonment. I played.
We passed under the overhead camera and the streets grew dim. The crowd kept on roaring, I heard one guy scream "EQUALITY ROCKS! GO GAY BAND!" as we launched into our signature piece: Brand New Day.
Afterwards
I slept 12 solid hours that night... the first full night's sleep since arriving in DC. The next morning I logged onto my Seattle Times blog to find that none--zero--of my posts from Inauguration Day had been published. This--in tandem with the other media blackouts surrounding Rev. Gene Robinson's invocation and the Gay Men's Chorus performance--left me disgusted with mainstream media. Here is what they censored:
Sent 6:26 AM:
The Metro lots are full and the trains are packed--it's 6 AM. We're on our way to the first security check point.Sent 8:08 AM:
Still waiting at the Pentagon for our security check... Parking lot is full of charter buses from all over America--the parade proves to be a true representation of the fabric of our nation. Hopefully a sign of things to come...
Sent 8:53 AM:
Rice Majors is in tears from the amount of military men and women who are shaking our hands for reasons they cannot say.
Sent 9:22 AM:
Media and Obama admin is back-peddling for the Rev. Gene
Robinson blackout so they are planning to be on us like glue during the parade.Sent 1:05 PM:
Soon leaving Pentagon... Heading to staging area. Have to sign off for now. A long way from Stonewall and still marching!
For a list of published media on LGBA's performance in the Inaugural Parade, visit http://www.grubbybastard.c
UPDATE:
For photos of the Inaugural experience, visit here.
