One Year Later: Claiming a Rainbow Umbrella

Nearly a year ago I wrote this blog post about attending the local Pridefest. It was the first Pridefest in my town and the first Pride event I attended. The festival itself wasn't all that different from any other festival, but, watching the scene at the gate, I was both appalled by the need for, and fascinated by the work of the Silent Witnesses, who were providing a human barrier against the verbal attacks being made by protesters. Listening to the festival goers, and Silent Witnesses, being verbally attacked, I promised myself that next year I would be there holding a rainbow umbrella (one of the identifying marks of a Silent Witness).

As I wrote about that day, I promised my readers I would work as a Silent Witness this year. Friends and strangers alike expressed encouragement and gratitude on my post, and told me how much they appreciated what I wrote. I had been afraid I would get negative feedback when I posted it, but the overwhelming positive response made me all the more determined to follow through with my promise.

After waiting all year to be a Silent Witness for the local Pridefest, I attended their training session. During the training their nonviolent, non confrontational, philosophy of peacekeeping was explained. They talked about what roles they need people to fill during events, and the importance of NOT visibly reacting to the protesters. Though any form of communication with the protesters is strictly off limits, the trainers explained that it's ok, and even encouraged, to talk to anyone else. I remembered many of the things they talked about from watching the Silent Witnesses at last years event.

Since the training I attended was only a few days before the local Pridefest, it included some discussion of what to expect at this specific event. When they showed a map of the park it was in, they pointed out the main gate and the secondary gate, explaining that the protesters didn't discover the back gate until late afternoon last year, but now that they knew about it they would likely be there earlier this year. As they pointed out the back gate I felt year-old negative emotions boiling up in me. I remembered walking to the back gate with the first Silent Witness assigned there after the protesters found it last year, and wondered if I could really do this.

The morning of the Pridefest I listened to my favorite politically minded music, and tried to prepare myself for the work I was about to do. Listening to the Michael Franti lyrics “They say you got to choose your side and when it's done, nobody right, nobody wrong.... ...tryin' to make a point or have the last word, but most the time people just tryin' to be heard....” I thought about the fact that as Silent Witnesses we're NOT to try to stop or silence the protesters. It's not our job to keep them quiet, it's our job to keep the peace, and protect everyone's rights, including the rights of the protesters, as distasteful as we might find the way they choose to use their right to free speech.

Though I was slightly nervous, I was mostly pumped up and excited to help. When I arrived at the check in station I proudly claimed my rainbow umbrella, and put on the bright orange safety vest with Silent Witness logos that would be my uniform as I worked. The rain in the morning had done more to scare away the protesters than it did to scare away the vendors, so things were quiet at the gate when I first went on duty. The Silent Witnesses stationed themselves around the gate, welcoming everyone with their colorful umbrellas and friendly greetings. When protesters began showing up we continued our job as welcomer, carefully positioning ourselves between the protesters and the path to the festival gates.

Before I knew it, I had been on duty for an hour and a half. I took a break to explore the festival, and when I returned there were a few protesters preaching to anyone in ear shot, and even more Silent Witnesses stationed around the entrance. I took up my umbrella and found a corner without as many Silent Witnesses to stand at. Word was casually being passed around that the rain would strike in about fifteen minutes, but we were already prepared with our umbrellas. For the next couple of hours I stood, umbrella in hand, with the other Silent Witnesses. We chuckled to ourselves over the illogical arguments made by the protesters, and grinned as the sudden downpours drowned out the protesters words, and made us glad to have our umbrellas.

As I stood there I felt hurt for the people being insulted by the protesters, but even more so I felt sad for the protesters. I believe God and Love are two forces that cannot be limited, and yet the protesters were trying to limit both, and truly believed what they were saying. Hearing the protesters ranting I couldn't help but wonder what version of the bible they read that says it's ok to judge, but the more frustrating thing was wishing I could convince them of how much bigger than their narrow definition God's love is, and knowing they wouldn't, perhaps couldn't even, believe it if I told them.


This entry is also posted on my political/social justice blog.

Witnessing Love

Fingering the purple band,
wound around my wrist,
I think of yesterdays events,
holding a rainbow,
in the pouring rain,
an umbrella of hope,
in the storm of hate,
love abused.

I'm sad for the insulted,
sadder for the insulter,
who's forgotten the music,
the tune of God's love.

This poem was inspired by my experience working as a Silent Witness at a local Pridefest.

Silence

Silence pounds in my head,
tearing me apart,
not because there is no noise,
but because I feel unloved.

Noise and busyness and chaos,
swirl about around me,
trying to break in,
but not the noise I want to hear.

I stumble into loneliness,
the friends I want to hear,
silent.

Just a few words,
I plead in my mind,
would help lift my mood,
when idle chatter,
leaves me lonely,
longing for more,
needing true friends.

Tipsy

First nervous sips,
taken shyly,
between glimpses stolen,
by the cameras eye.

Carefully tasting,
grown-up versions,
of mint chocolate chip,
in a martini glass.

Giggling,
hiding,
shyly avoiding,
pictures taken,
to celebrate the day.

Slowly sipping,
raspberry ice cream,
in a glass,
but more fun.

Softly she croons,
come closer and share,
this sweet release,
raspberry laced unleash.

A small red drink,
tasting like cranberry,
lit on fire,
beckons giggles of glee,
to our merry table,
melting away,
lingering shyness.

Rise with a giggle,
like stepping ashore,
stumbling,
swaying,
and giggling more.

IHATU

for my Pre-Ker, who's only beginning to find the power of writing

"IHATU",
carefully drawn,
in big pencil lines,
angry words,
in a lined paper book.

A cruel face bares teeth,
upon page two,
all because he couldn't place,
the carrot seeds,
that he wanted to.