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February 20, 2002
Sylvia Rivera was a street punk from the Bronx.  As a young Puerto Rican boy of color he began hustling in Times Square, in drag, back in the early sixties.  The 'cultured mind' recoils thinking, "this is not to sort of person I would ever bring home," although apparently many of you did.  That was the sort of 'in-your-face' reality-assault which Sylvia might have made.  She was a heroine of the Gay Revolution, from the early Stonewall days, responsible for the freedom you now have.  Sylvia did drugs, ripped people off, lived on the streets, sold her body for sex, and tirelessly rallied for Gay and Transgender rights throughout her troubled life.  In short, she was as complex as the rest of us.  Any one of us might have met her in years gone by and either have sunk to our knees for the succor of gratification or run away in refined terror.  Or we might have shared the glory of marching beside her in the days when it took genuine courage to stand up and demand civil rights; but few of us did that.

In the end, poor Sylvia did not die dramatically in street battle with the police nor from the tragic victimization of AIDS.  She died an ordinary death by cancer, at age 50, on February 19th in a hospital in New York City.  But Sylvia was no ordinary person. Her life's battle for our rights and for personal dignity is briefly recounted in a quite respectful and respectable obituary in today's New York Times.  The full sordid and splendid details of Sylvia Rivera's existence are recounted at length in the book Stonewall, by Martin Duberman (Dutton, 1993).

According to the Times' obituary, by David Dunlap, Sylvia felt neglected and forgotten but for brief moments of fame and gratitude for her efforts.  She was honored in the Gay Pride Parade dedicated to the 25th anniversary of the Stonewall Riot.  "After that I went back on the shelf.  It would be wonderful if the movement took care of its own. But don't worry about Sylvia." quoted the obituary from a 1995 Times interview with her.  Indeed, who will take care of any of us unless we take care of and recognize our own?

What does it all mean?  The very fact that a transgendered street person received the recognition of a quarter page four column obituary in the New York Times on February 20th, 2002 is the direct result of her own forty years of struggle for our freedom of expression and existence.  The tragic pity is that in her life Sylvia Rivera did not regularly receive the basic rights of human dignity that any of us deserve.  Don't dare look down your nose at Sylvia's life; if you are queer enough to read this, then there but for the grace of God go you.  May God bless and welcome one of our selfless saviors.