There is a great deal of talk these days about the state of The Gay Community. I know friends who question where the activists are, why the younger gay men are so complacent, where are the signs of togetherness. Here in Seattle, Broadway, which used to be the Gay District in Seattle, has slowly eroded into a ghost town of closed businesses, bordered up stores, dwindling restaurants, and one great bookstore - Bailey Coy Books - that has survived the decades and manages to be one of the few independent booksellers in the city. It used to be that Broadway was packed with gay men and lesbians (mostly gay men) every night of the week. There were a number of bars nearby that were packed (so I hear) and it was easy to run into lots of people you knew.
Gay Pride began as a movement of self-acceptance and overcoming homophobia and shame. When the AIDS crisis began, gay men and lesbians came together to fight against a nation of zealots and politicians who simply didn't care that our brothers and sisters were dying horrible, painful deaths. How we banded together to make a public statement of support for AIDS sufferers - the Red Ribbon, the AIDS walks, the fund raisers, actions which have all become adopted by almost every non-profit fund-raising group - gave us more than a social purpose, it advanced our motives politically and personally. Friends died, and our lives were on the line.
I think it's often forgotten that the purpose of every social movement is to eventually become obsolete. Younger gays and lesbians are coming out at younger and younger ages, and aren't facing the stigmas which were embedded in society when I was younger. Eventually, the general population will shift in the majority (are we already there?) to acceptance of same-sex orientation. And Gay Pride, and the Gay Community, shift and evolve to become something else.
What was a community is becoming a society. Common denominators but not common causes. Being gay is a tenuous connection, much like being blue-eyed or dyslexic. Even our experiences of being gay are changing from generation to generation. The most telling problem for us, as a community or as a society, is our lack of ancestors.
Throughout history there have been countless thousands, probably millions, of gay man and women who faced the most cruel punishments, the most horrible deaths, the loss of everything they own, the banishment from society. We will never know their stories, their lives of consumate shame, the suicides, the despair; we will never know those stories of the ones who slipped through, who managed to hide their love and still let it flourish, who found common souls and a common purpose with others like themselves. They're gone, but their lives paved the way for us.
Since I first saw it, I've thought a lot about 'Brokeback Mountain'. What strikes me most is that it is a story of our ancestors. Of those who came before us, who overcame what they could, and whose utter selves were unmistakeably true to the love they found. And that's where our gay community will live as the political needs lessen - in remembering our ancestors, in honoring their lives, and remembering that our lives affect those who are coming after us. It isn't blood that binds us. It's love.
Even if they're only fiction, Ennis and Jack are as true as life. Their story is our story, and we mustn't forget it.
No comments:
Post a Comment