The Man on the Fence Post

[Photograph: Steve Liss/The LIFE Images Collection/Getty]

By AJ Reed

I remember it like it was yesterday. I just sat down to work on my computer project for my vocational class when a breaking story came across the television playing in my class: Man Found on Fence Post, Laramie, Wyoming. The story that broke during their class period addressed a man that was on a fence post outside of Laramie, Wyoming—turning towards the television—listening intently to the news report. The adolescent learned that the story was about the man on the fence post that was left through the night. The story went on to say that two other men were with this particular man, who then beat him, put him in the back of their truck, and propped him up like a scarecrow on the fence post where he spent his final hours. When the man's body was found and taken to the hospital, is when they officially declared him dead after several days in the hospital. The adolescent felt an emptiness. They did not know the man on the news. However, they felt a loss of someone who was part of their community. The adolescent for a moment reflected that they could have been that man on the fence post in the news. The man on the fence was Matthew Shepard, and it was that moment that sparked my queer liberation.

As I began my queer liberation, I could that living in Midwest presented challenges. There were no real outlets or spaces for me to go to when I had questions, no mentors to help guide me. The only places where experiences and information were readily available were house parties thrown by gay men or heading into the bigger metro areas. Living in a rural area also meant that we did not have many figures to look up to when it came to conducting actions that needed to be done. When young people wanted to organize and affect change, there wasn’t a blue print already laid out by more experienced activists. So what do any young and idealistic people do? I joined forces with some friends and our first action just days after Matthew Shepard’s murder was participating in the National Day of Silence. With black electrical tape over our mouths, we walked the halls of our school in silent solidarity with queer students who are often not heard and seen by school systems. School staff did not always respond well to this type of protest. Students lost participation points in class or punished with detention. As the National Day of Silence movement took hold, progressive schools found ways to accommodate students who protested through this medium.

After graduating high school, I dug into the LGBTQ Rights movement. I developed an LGBTQ+ student organization, worked on marriage equality campaigns, and served in LGBTQ+ organizations that pushed for policy change. I also worked in social service and organizing in the own community. The quest to further my queer liberation led me to Christopher Street and the infamous Stonewall Inn. Sitting across the street from the historic space, I closed my eyes and listened to what the past and the present were trying to tell me. I heard the laughing and felt the hugs from my brothers and sisters of 1969. I heard the police sirens that broke into the spirit of what was Stonewall and the increasing desperation for equality that was bubbling out of the Inn. I was brought back to present day with police sirens as they quickly approached where I was sitting. In that moment, I wondered how far have we actually come since June 28, 1969 when the LGBTQ+ community had had enough and took to the streets.

We’ve made great strides since Stonewall. Nearly 20 countries, including the US, have legalized same-sex marriage. Organizations like the American Psychology Association and the World Health Organization dropped "homosexuality" as a mental illness in 1974 and declassified transgender as a mental disorder. The US Supreme Court declared that marriage for LGBTQ+ folx is constitutional and ruled that it is unconstitutional to discriminate against LGBTQ individuals in the workplace.

But what about Matthew Shepard? Or the 49 souls that were taken at Pulse Nightclub? Why are our trans and non-binary brothers and sisters being murdered at an alarming rate? Why is suicide the second leading cause of death among young folx who are queer? Why are we losing so many incredible people when we have all these rights?

Because the reality is that while we have laws in place to protect queer folx, we also have social organizations such as organized religion that are using their platforms to atoll their beliefs that loving someone of the same sex or gender is wrong. Our young people are hearing these messages and internalizing the hate toward themselves. The reality is that while the Supreme Court has acknowledged that marriage is something that everyone should have access to and that discrimination across the board is unconstitutional, there are people within the government ranks that are actively trying to dismantle policies and safeguards that are protecting marginalized communities. The reality is that there are businesses that are using religion and holes in the law to allow them to discriminate.

There will be challenges along the way when reaching towards progress, but we must not forget about the groundwork that has already been laid out for us. As Aristotle once said, “If you would understand anything, observe its beginning and its development.” Look at pride parades today. Pride parades started as an uprising at the Stonewall Inn. An act of expression to demand the rights we need to be visible in mainstream society. It was a rallying cry to remind people of why we stood up to oppression in 1969. Today it is nothing more than corporate sponsorship, political opportunism, and allowing law enforcement to tell us how to run our parade. And when marriage equality became federal law, was when the other rights for our community got put on the backburner. As if marriage equality was the big move to be in a post-queer liberation state. Those that are fighting for queer liberation have not stopped since marriage equality, nor when rainbow capitalists took over pride parades. Our fight is more than marriage equality.

Queer liberation is more than just marriage equality. So many activists left the movement when marriage equality became federal law. Make no mistake, queer liberation means that we must demand a living wage, access to affordable and safe housing, employment, racial justice, access to meaningful healthcare, access to human services, opening the border, and abolishing the prison industrial complex. Veteran activist David Mixner reminds us that we are on the brink of losing our history. Pioneers and trailblazers are disappearing before our eyes. We cannot lose our history as the other side wants to erase our journey. Time is running out. Let us keep the spark for our fight for queer liberation.