JUNE 18, 2021, KEIZERTIMES, PAGE A11
Continued from page A1
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love takes many forms. No one here in this
moment can settle the argument of who is
most righteous and shouting each other
down is now the default response.
These questions are grounded in the
knowledge that I am privileged to be able
to ask them. It’s not who I am or my way of
life that is under constant assault.
Still, I know what I would have done as
the chants rose and fell, as shouting and
shoving began, and as I saw what might
have been fear fl ash across the face of that
boy protesting alongside the adults.
If I could go back. If it hadn’t been quite
so loud. If I’d summoned a little more cour-
age. I would have pulled one of the men
aside and told him about the role I have
in the lives of teenagers who desperately
want to feel welcome and safe. Told him
that his group’s presence at Pride and their
message was an active source of harm to
countless people I care about.
I would have told him how much joy
I derive from getting to be the adult with
whom my GSA kids can be themselves.
That if the young people they bring along
to these events ever made their way to our
GSA meetings, I would love them as my
own.
I would go to that child, tell him I’m
sorry if I scared him and ask him to lay
down his bricks.
Writer’s note: This is one person’s per-
spective on the events of the Keizer Pride
Fair and it is not intended to be the defi n-
itive account. The Keizertimes welcomes
responses and other points of view at all
times. Send us letters to the editor or guest
opinion columns to publisher@keizertimes.
com.
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and need of such festivals, but there is one
metaphor I fi nd especially illuminating.
In the book titled A Quick & Easy
Guide to They/Them Pronouns, by Archie
Bongiovanni and Tristan Jimerson, the
author and artist equate the everyday
experience of LGBTQ+ people to carrying
a backpack that gets heavier throughout
each day. Every attack, slight and omission
(targeted at them or others in their com-
munity) is another brick tossed into the
bag. The weight is crushing by day’s end.
Having a space to put that bag down
without fear of judgment is grace and
mercy of the highest order. Pride festivals
are one of those places.
The only proof I’ll ever need is a teen-
ager I’ve mentored for several years who
came up to me on Saturday and said, “I’m
smiling so much. I’m so happy.”
They are not predisposed to expressing
joy so openly, even to me.
2. Confronting Hate
It’s impossible to address what came
next without acknowledging my role
as advisor to the McNary High School
Gender-Sexuality/Gay-Straight Alliance
(GSA) and the important lessons I’ve dis-
covered since taking it on: 1) I check every
box for cis-hetero-white-male privilege,
but my journey would have been much less
burdensome without judgments imposed
by others. 2) Allies can become accom-
plices and marginalized people need both
of them.
Approximately three hours in, two
uninvited guests showed up at the party.
The fi rst was an ice cream truck whose
operator felt it necessary to “bless” those
who were buying his treats. By “bless,” I
mean “exorcise.”
Not long after that, a group of several
men and a teenage boy showed up waving
banners and spouting Scripture to con-
demn LGBTQ+ community members, their
supporters and the attendees of the fair in
general. After being dissuaded from stand-
ing at the edge of the gathering and fi lm-
ing participants, the demonstrators moved
to the far side of the parking lot and front
of the Keizer Cultural Center.
These individuals wanted to load bricks
of the same tapestry, and there is historical
proof of both changing the world for the
better.
Four Keizer Police Department offi cers
arrived sometime amid the confl ict and
did an admirable job of de-escalating the
tension quickly and convincing the dem-
onstrators to take their leave. The count-
er-protesters melded back into the party.
Back at the fair, it was heartening to fi nd
out there were many attendees who had no
idea what happened and hundreds more
who arrived afterward.
3. Questioning
During and after the scrum, I sec-
ond-guessed every choice I made.
When I saw my kids heading toward
the scene, there was no doubt in my mind
that they needed to see me standing with
them. I expect it of myself and they should
expect it of me.
I thought about the danger of vague
words and how we all fi nd ways to weapon-
ize them. I pondered my role as a journal-
ist and how these confl icts draw attention
in mainstream and social media and it
becomes a feedback loop of serotonin for
many of the participants. I deliberated the
desire and wisdom in placing our “bodies
upon the gears,” how doing so is alluring
and the point at which it becomes so infec-
tious that it ravages our reason. I contem-
plated the perils of compromise when lives
are at stake.
My heart grows heavy wondering what
anti-LGBTQ+ demonstrators consider a
successful day. Do they expect to take
home converts? Is it pride they seek in
pursuing a place of moral superiority? Is it
satisfying enough to simply “own the libs”
for a few moments? Do they rest easier at
night knowing they’ve modeled for their
children a way to be in the world, its found-
ing principle causing intense unrest and
discomfort for others?
Much later, one of the kids confi ded
their disappointment when the count-
er-protesters began chanting “You’re not
welcome here.” They felt it sent a message
in opposition to the whole point of Pride
gatherings. I don’t disagree.
How diff erent are we actually if we are
both acting in the name of love and per-
ceive the other side as purely hateful? The
protesters profess uncompromising love
of a higher power that demands obedi-
ence and those of us on the other side are
equally uncompromising in our faith that
TO
W
PRIDE,
into bags of those trying to unburden
themselves for a few hours.
There were volunteers assigned to
security on-hand during the festival, but
there was soon a call for more assistance.
Two of my young charges joined the swell
of people headed to the parking lot and I
trailed not far behind. This is the type of
moment when allies become accomplices.
Being an accomplice feels new in every cir-
cumstance, but I wonder every single time
if I’m doing it right.
When the call went out for more people,
it was not made clear whether the intent
was to get the protesters to move on or
merely prevent them from approaching
the main site of the festival. In the absence
of more specifi c orders, a counter-protest
formed and the unspoken mission became
to oust the protesters from the area entirely.
By the time we arrived, the scene was
already mildly chaotic. The anti-Pride dem-
onstrators stood near their van with signs
condemning LGBTQ+ people as sinners.
Off to their side stood the boy holding one
of the signs and fi lming the spectacle.
Some in our group shouted and
screamed in the faces of the anti-Pride
demonstrators. Others danced around
them. Someone disconnected a micro-
phone, another bolted off with a stack of
their hateful signs. Several counter-pro-
testers began physically pushing the dem-
onstrators back toward their van as they
tried to push past. Fists were drawn, but I
was too tunnel-visioned in the moment to
notice if anyone threw punches. A few, too
few, even tried holding something like a
conversation with the protesters. Soon all
of it was drowned out by a blaring speaker
and chants.
At some point, the demonstrators
were calling police claiming assault while
counter-protesters did the same.
It wasn’t long before one of my kids
and I were at the front of the counter-pro-
testers. One of the men with signs tried to
push past us. He bounced off repeatedly
as we crossed our arms and silently held
the line. The only words I spoke to any-
one aside from my kids was to tell a few
angered counter-protesters not to give
someone a reason to turn violent. I’m not
sure any of them heard me.
Unfortunately, no handbook exists
for rejecting the people who want to load
bricks into our bags. It’s entirely possible
that love and violence are opposite sides
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