Years from now ill tell my kids about today. I'll tell my grandkids about Monday, March 25th 2013.
I marched from Market street and Castro to city hall with over one thousand others to protest prop 8 and DOMA. I marched for marriage equality, equal rights, civil rights, and human rights.
I volunteered with others to get the supreme courts attention.
I marched with a giant rainbow flag and handed out hundreds of signs and fliers.
I marched for the people who can no longer march, and the people who never could.
It was unlike I expected in a number of ways.
Police officers were very respectful (one even wore a rainbow pin).
A man on a motor cycle stopped to say that he was catholic..
And he supported me. Then he gave us a thumbs up.
I remembered Harvey Milk.
I felt like I was a part of something big.
But at the same time I felt so small..
Was my one body, and one rainbow flag really going to get the supreme courts attention.
Did anybody really care, or was this just the latest thing to Instagram?
Is my marching really going to fill the empty space
In the stomach of the homeless queer youth
Down the block?
Are there better things we could be marching for?
Yes, I'm sure of it.
Surrounded by a sea of gay white men in the Castro...
Drowning in that sea of privilege within a community.
Yes. I'd like to have the freedom to marry a woman, if I choose.
However, I'd also not like to step over handfuls of homeless human beings
While I march.
I guess marching has changed.
It used to be,
You'd have to fear for safety
It used to be a matter of survival..
Now,
It's a matter of retweets.
If I put a dollar in the pocket of a white man,
For every text sent..
And a slice of bread in the stomach of a homeless teen,
For every chant..
I wonder which would fill up first.
Either way, I marched.
Bri
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