LAVENDER LIGHT GOSPEL CHOIR
Queer Gospel, clap your hands, rejoice, be happy

By Ruby Lips
Pride Week, 2002
This is the real thing; foot stomping, head snapping, hand clapping, jumping, pure jazz gospel; with the added cachet of being sung by our sisters and brothers. If this music does not get you swaying and grinning and feeling good, you are in very serious need of long sloppy hug. It’s impossible to sit still listening to this group. The conductor wears sneakers, he jumps around so much; his entire body in dance motion, head snapping back and forth to set the pianist’s tempo, hands urging glory, and his face emoting pitch, timbre, and righteous reverence.

Maybe you are still wondering if I liked this group? I actually broke down and bought their CD, and I’m one cheap old bitch. I heard them twice this week as they graced and enriched pride events with their glorious uplifting sound.

In the marbled atrium-like foyer of the staid Museum of the City of New York, way up on East 103^rd Street, the choir’s joyful songs echoed around a glistening white grand piano beneath the curving grand stairway. This followed an inspirational lecture, by Pauline Park of the New York Association of Gender Rights Advocacy, who spoke at the museum’s prestigious annual Ouderkirk Memorial Lecture. She described the process of the successful campaign for the transgender rights law recently signed by Hizzoner the Mayor of New York City. Despite the lecture’s Q & A running enthusiastically somewhat overtime, nearly everyone stayed to hear the heart uplifting choir’s soul songs resound into the night.

The next night, on the Friday eve of Pride Weekend, the choir was at the foot of Christopher Street, within sight and scent of the mighty Hudson River, to accompany and literally bring light to the proceedings of the annual Mother’s March Against Aids. Once again, their faith filled voices rang out into the sultry dusk of the Village as a quiet voice intoned the names of those lost to AIDS. All this took place in front of Bailey House amidst the flashing yet peaceful protective police car lights in rather ironic memory of the likes of Sylvia Rivera.