Dyke March Rally Speech in Portland,
Maine, 2016
by Marty Pottenger
Hi Everyone. So
good to be here tonight…together. This morning I counted the number of steps we’ll
be walking tonight. 1,349 steps – between Monument Square and Longfellow
Triangle – depending on your unique stride, not to mention your attitude.
The first
hundred steps will give me a chance to remember and thank all the women-loving-women
who have lived and loved for thousands and thousands of years…for the courage
it took to get us this far.
The next 100
steps gives me a chance to realize how far “this far” is. That I, who was thrown
out of college for simply saying to a school counselor in a private session that
I was “afraid I might be a lesbian”, have lived to see the American flag at Ft.
Williams Park at half mast to honor our gay/queer/lesbian/bi/trans family
killed in Orlando.
For the next 100
steps I will mourn, not only those killed this last Sunday, but all the friends
and neighbors, known and unknown, all the LGBQT people we have lost because of addictions,
despair, discrimination, inequity and isolation.
As I take my 400th
step – and the 99 after it – I invite you to celebrate the victories we have
won around the world – anti-discrimination, civil rights protection, civil unions,
marriage equality, and so many more. We did this.
Here in the
States, we’ve marched to Washington, DC, for LGBQT liberation three times. I
went to each of them. May each step of my next 100 count for 1,000 of the
100,000 of us who first went to DC in 1979. The AIDS Quilt was at the second in
1987 – laying out in devastating beauty – the depth and diversity of our
community in thousands of panels. And then, in 1993, 1 million of us marched, demanding
respect and civil rights. And though I’d been fighting for two decades, on that
day, standing with 1 million of my siblings, I never once imagined the gains we
have today.
100 steps to say
“No” to the isolation that tears at our connections. The bullshit lies that
still confuse us – that we don’t belong, that we aren’t completely good, that
there’s something wrong with us. There is nothing wrong with us. There is
nothing wrong with you. You are completely good. You belong at the center,
right in the middle of our love, the center of our caring and our community.
100 steps to
imagine letting down my lesbian guard, my “dukes,” to risk being vulnerable, to
feel whatever there is to feel, to not cover up my fear, confusion, uncertainty
or isolation, but to risk, to take a chance that it is actually safe enough to
let life happen to me – beautiful, bloody, benign, brilliant life.
100 more steps
to look around and see you, each a gift… to look eye to eye, heart to heart,
and recognize that we aren’t simply a collection of amazing remarkable
individuals, we are a team, a force, a liberation army, with special
acknowledgement to the mothers here who work everyday to give their children a
better life.
I want to walk
the next 100 steps more slowly as I bring to mind all of the allies who have
made a difference to me. To remember all of the friends who didn’t disappear when I finally was able
to say “I’m queer”; the few who stood by me when my mother – on her deathbed – said
that I was dead to her because I was a lesbian; and all of the co-workers – male
carpenters, masons, electricians – who worked side by side with me, cared about
me, for over 20 years, knowing I was a dyke; all of the straight women – in
high school and college – who loved me and let
me love them when much of the time – to me – being dead seemed a far better
choice than being a lesbian.
Then a full 300
steps for everyone who was affected by last Sunday night’s massacre, for
everyone who now can begin to heal – to recover – to reclaim their center. May
they decide to not retreat but to come together and celebrate – like they did in
Orlando the very next night – and stay bold, silly, sexy, irreverent, wise and gay.
And now, we’re 149
steps from Longfellow Triangle, For the first100, let’s hold the 50 who were
wounded on Sunday along with their families and loved ones close and then, take
each of the last 49 steps for each of the 49 members of our family killed on last
Sunday in one of our sacred spaces – a bar that is also a church, a sanctuary,
a refuge.
And for those of
us whose stride gives us one more step, may that step be for those of us who
are still too terrified, too ashamed, too isolated to claim this part – this
precious, thorny, beautiful part of who they are – whether your name is Omar or
Olive, Mary Beth or Muhammad – especially for them – for you – we march tonight
to say, “We’re here.” We’re here together. Ready to fight,
ready to love, ready to imagine and work for a decent life for everyone. We’ve
been here all along. We are who we are – lovely, loving, loyal, loud, cranky,
resilient, optimistic, and essential. Don’t forget that – “essential” – and to
our allies: Don’t let us forget it either.
