If I can’t dance, I don’t want to be part of your revolution

A friend of mine asked me how we did it, being out when it wasn’t as safe to be out.

I thought back, and started listing all the things my then-partner and I did. How did we do it? How were we out, without any legal protections?

What did we *do*?

Hold hands in public
Buy sheets together
Hold shabbat dinner and invite friends
Get a lawyer and ensure our estates were in order and protected
Establish medical power of attorney
Donate money
Wear queer activism pins and clothing
Send pizza to protesters
Donate clothes and food
Find and import queer movies from other countries
Attend local caucuses
Hold Babylon 5 and Buffy watching parties
Put Rainbow Flag stickers on our cars
Put holiday lights in the windows year-round to be a light in dark times
Memorize poetry
Read revolutionary texts
Go dancing. Park a block away and walk to the gay bar. Get to the door and look over our shoulders. Go in.


An acquaintance of mine, someone I knew vaguely on the internet, the friend of friends, killed herself Wednesday. She ran a poetry website. She left instructions for people to take care of the website and take care of her cats.


Writers. Poets. Dancers. Singers.

We need you.

The resistance needs you.

The revolution needs to dance.



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