Shakesville: A Capital Good Time

by Shaker Peggy Sue

It was Friday afternoon. I had just emailed the local DC organizer of Saturday's march, because while I was publicizing the shit outta the event, I was also fielding questions from community peeps about permits. As an old-school 90's radical activist dyke, I found that alternately funny and sad. Permits? Pfffft. Who needs a permit when we have five thousand angry chanting queers, at least that's what *I* figured. But it's not 1992 anymore and I'm not in San Francisco, so I shut my yap and got the answer.

It was later Friday afternoon. I had agreed to give a speech at the demonstration (thank you, ACT UP background), and found out that the organizer had indeed secured a permit. And of course it didn't include amplified sound. (See why I don't like permits?) Thank god for the queer underground. In less than 15 minutes, I found someone who found someone who led me to a sound rental facility that agreed to lease two large microphone-enabled bullhorns for the day Saturday. Chaaaaaaaa.

Saturday dawned. I hauled butt down to the rental place, went home and got ready, then down to the steps of the Capitol. There were maybe 300 people more than a half hour before the start of the demo, which was damn promising.

A few minutes after I arrived, I heard chanting and looked up. There was this big group (about 50, maybe?) of college kids that came marching down the street and chanting and whooping and hollering. A bunch of them had green t-shirts that said I AM on the front, and I can only assume some sort of kickass homo designation on the back.

They were fantastic, even when it got a little annoying because they would NOT stop yelling. For anything. I was like goddam, they're gonna yell all those happy queer chants for a whole fucking HOUR. And they pretty much did, bless their hearts. They were all bouncing and dancing and yelling and were so SO thrilled to be a part of the day. Their energy was palpable and catching. And I heart them for that.

Then there were about a thousand of us. Then three. Then five. Then more.

Eventually things got rolling, I hopped up on a concrete pillar and gave my rabble-rousing diatribe:

Video of the Speech:
(begins about 40 seconds in)

[Transcript here.]
And then we were off. We went on a nice, long, roundabout route to the White House, and about ten minutes after that, the heavens opened and it was monsoon time.

And you know what? Nobody left. Not the Latina dykes or the white gay boys and not the lesbian moms or African-American leathermen and not our straight allies, either. NOBODY. We danced and sang and laughed and got wet instead. And oh yeah, the new chant went: What do we want? DRY SOCKS. When do we want ‘em? NOW!

This is not the Washington DC that I've known for the last 5 years. There was no apathy, there was no pessimism, there weren't even really any politics…there was just joy and excitement and HOPE, which we no doubt felt along with a million others across the nation (and that includes my awesome straight mom in Walnut Creek, CA. Hi mom!).

The other thing that really got to me? All the heterosexuals. There were tons and TONS of straight people carrying signs saying Straight not Hate and the like. Holy crap. Now that's the kind of thing that makes me really believe. Hell, I don't even expect much of my fellow queers anymore, with all this absolutely horrid racist garbage some of them are floating around. So I have low expectations. But for so many people that aren't even gay to step up? It really opened my eyes and even opened up my tired little heart just a tad.

So we tromped down streets (and through one field of ultimate Frisbee players), and the line got longer and longer and longer. As we marched four or five abreast it seemed like our numbers stretched out for hundreds and hundreds of yards. It was absolutely awesome.

We finally arrived at a small park, where there were more speakers and me and my four waterlogged friends decided to get the hell outta there and find somewhere inside with food. And finally, we were all warm and fed and almost dry and all finished with the day, we saw this (no joke):

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A Capital Good Time

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