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The
Mother’s March Against Aids Ruby Lips As the sun slowly set on the street where Sylvia Rivera once rallied for our rights, a lone bagpiper led the silent candlelight procession in memory of those lost to AIDS down Christopher Street to the river. At dusk, in front of Bailey House, within sight and scent of the brooding Hudson River, the Lavender Light Gospel Choir sang in soulful glory as memorial names were solemnly intoned one after another. It is at this time of year that my love of nearly 20 years died, a decade ago now. I get sick every year at this time. But pride week events such as this are a way to give meaning to the memory of our life together. Speeches were made, among them one by Andy Humm in which he spoke eloquently for gender identity rights. And interfaith prayers were invoked; it was my one opportunity to stand amongst good glbt people while saying kaddish for my love as I so much want to do at this time of year. A lot of time has passed since Sylvia and others stood in confrontation with police on nights so long ago. To me it was somehow ironic that on this sultry summer evening, as we stood at the foot of Christopher Street where the hallowed actions of the beginnings of our freedom are now but distant echoes, police lights flashed to protect our procession, and police officers peacefully joined us as those of their own who were lost on September 11th were included in our prayers. In the Pride Parade, later that same weekend, a huge contingent of gay police offers in full dress uniforms marched proudly down that same street. What does it all mean? What will the future bring to this weighted place where so much gay history transpired? I’m an old man now, living alone with the ghosts of the past, angered and bitchy because of the loss by AIDS of the man I loved for so long. As I stood there in the vigil this gay pride week, I could remember the shouts on that street in the nights of revolt when I was so young. Now, the police lights flashed yet again, as we prayed in mourning; and the ghosts of those we love so deeply saw through my eyes, and we cried. |
