

SUBSCRIBE TO OUR FREE NEWSLETTER
Daily news & progressive opinion—funded by the people, not the corporations—delivered straight to your inbox.
5
#000000
#FFFFFF
To donate by check, phone, or other method, see our More Ways to Give page.


Daily news & progressive opinion—funded by the people, not the corporations—delivered straight to your inbox.

Lesbians and self-described dykes have, for many years, marched on the day before the big parade. The Dyke March is always a raucous, disobedient alternative to the staid and commercial official Pride Parade. (Photo: Scott Barbour/Getty Images)
Kali Akuno asks an important question: where would we be as a world today if people of the left had been as organized in 2008 when the financial crash hit as they'd been in 1980 before thirty years of neoliberalism?
Akuno, a co-founder and co-coordinator of Cooperation Jackson in Mississippi, asked this question this past Friday at a panel we were both part of at the annual Left Forum. It resonated with me especially this weekend as I took part in two of New York City's three LGBTQIA marches. I say marches because, indeed, there were several. Lesbians and self-described dykes have, for many years, marched on the day before the big parade. The Dyke March is always a raucous, disobedient alternative to the staid and commercial official Pride Parade. This year, self-defined queers held a third march and rally too, for everyone seeking to reclaim some of Stonewall's more radical and liberatory legacy.
Multiple marches spring from a multi-faceted history. After all, what's remembered as the Stonewall Uprising took place over several nights with several different factions. Fifty years ago, things kicked off riotously early in the morning of June 28th when fed-up patrons--mostly young trans women, butch dykes and drag queens of color--fought off a police raid, refusing arrest. That night, a crowd gathered, curious, excited and eager to be part of something.
The night after that, when most of the most famous pictures were snapped, an even bigger group showed up and faced off against an even bigger mass of police, including the infamous Tactical Unit in riot gear. By the third day, the Village was in uproar, with more protest and organizing and also a backlash. More conservative gays, who'd been lobbying politely for their rights for years, pleaded for quiet: "WE HOMOSEXUALS PLEAD WITH OUR PEOPLE TO PLEASE MAINTAIN PEACEFUL AND QUIET CONDUCT ON THE STREETS OF THE VILLAGE," they posted on a sign on the boarded up, broken bar window.
And that's the tension that has been with us ever since. Are rights things to be granted by the powerful to the deserving few, contingent on their obedience, someone's convenience and adherence to the prevailing rules and conventions? Or are rights rather, as revolutionaries of very many stripes have said over many, many generations, "unalienable, endowed at birth"-- which is to say, unconditional?
We would have fewer marches if we had more agreement. Meanwhile, I ask myself Kali's question in a slightly amended form: where would we be today if more people were comfortable with being just a little bit uncomfortable and excited and eager to be part of something? Or, to put it another way, because Pride's about nothing if it's not about heart, if more of us loved ourselves, and one another, unconditionally?
Dear Common Dreams reader, It’s been nearly 30 years since I co-founded Common Dreams with my late wife, Lina Newhouser. We had the radical notion that journalism should serve the public good, not corporate profits. It was clear to us from the outset what it would take to build such a project. No paid advertisements. No corporate sponsors. No millionaire publisher telling us what to think or do. Many people said we wouldn't last a year, but we proved those doubters wrong. Together with a tremendous team of journalists and dedicated staff, we built an independent media outlet free from the constraints of profits and corporate control. Our mission has always been simple: To inform. To inspire. To ignite change for the common good. Building Common Dreams was not easy. Our survival was never guaranteed. When you take on the most powerful forces—Wall Street greed, fossil fuel industry destruction, Big Tech lobbyists, and uber-rich oligarchs who have spent billions upon billions rigging the economy and democracy in their favor—the only bulwark you have is supporters who believe in your work. But here’s the urgent message from me today. It's never been this bad out there. And it's never been this hard to keep us going. At the very moment Common Dreams is most needed, the threats we face are intensifying. We need your support now more than ever. We don't accept corporate advertising and never will. We don't have a paywall because we don't think people should be blocked from critical news based on their ability to pay. Everything we do is funded by the donations of readers like you. When everyone does the little they can afford, we are strong. But if that support retreats or dries up, so do we. Will you donate now to make sure Common Dreams not only survives but thrives? —Craig Brown, Co-founder |
Kali Akuno asks an important question: where would we be as a world today if people of the left had been as organized in 2008 when the financial crash hit as they'd been in 1980 before thirty years of neoliberalism?
Akuno, a co-founder and co-coordinator of Cooperation Jackson in Mississippi, asked this question this past Friday at a panel we were both part of at the annual Left Forum. It resonated with me especially this weekend as I took part in two of New York City's three LGBTQIA marches. I say marches because, indeed, there were several. Lesbians and self-described dykes have, for many years, marched on the day before the big parade. The Dyke March is always a raucous, disobedient alternative to the staid and commercial official Pride Parade. This year, self-defined queers held a third march and rally too, for everyone seeking to reclaim some of Stonewall's more radical and liberatory legacy.
Multiple marches spring from a multi-faceted history. After all, what's remembered as the Stonewall Uprising took place over several nights with several different factions. Fifty years ago, things kicked off riotously early in the morning of June 28th when fed-up patrons--mostly young trans women, butch dykes and drag queens of color--fought off a police raid, refusing arrest. That night, a crowd gathered, curious, excited and eager to be part of something.
The night after that, when most of the most famous pictures were snapped, an even bigger group showed up and faced off against an even bigger mass of police, including the infamous Tactical Unit in riot gear. By the third day, the Village was in uproar, with more protest and organizing and also a backlash. More conservative gays, who'd been lobbying politely for their rights for years, pleaded for quiet: "WE HOMOSEXUALS PLEAD WITH OUR PEOPLE TO PLEASE MAINTAIN PEACEFUL AND QUIET CONDUCT ON THE STREETS OF THE VILLAGE," they posted on a sign on the boarded up, broken bar window.
And that's the tension that has been with us ever since. Are rights things to be granted by the powerful to the deserving few, contingent on their obedience, someone's convenience and adherence to the prevailing rules and conventions? Or are rights rather, as revolutionaries of very many stripes have said over many, many generations, "unalienable, endowed at birth"-- which is to say, unconditional?
We would have fewer marches if we had more agreement. Meanwhile, I ask myself Kali's question in a slightly amended form: where would we be today if more people were comfortable with being just a little bit uncomfortable and excited and eager to be part of something? Or, to put it another way, because Pride's about nothing if it's not about heart, if more of us loved ourselves, and one another, unconditionally?
Kali Akuno asks an important question: where would we be as a world today if people of the left had been as organized in 2008 when the financial crash hit as they'd been in 1980 before thirty years of neoliberalism?
Akuno, a co-founder and co-coordinator of Cooperation Jackson in Mississippi, asked this question this past Friday at a panel we were both part of at the annual Left Forum. It resonated with me especially this weekend as I took part in two of New York City's three LGBTQIA marches. I say marches because, indeed, there were several. Lesbians and self-described dykes have, for many years, marched on the day before the big parade. The Dyke March is always a raucous, disobedient alternative to the staid and commercial official Pride Parade. This year, self-defined queers held a third march and rally too, for everyone seeking to reclaim some of Stonewall's more radical and liberatory legacy.
Multiple marches spring from a multi-faceted history. After all, what's remembered as the Stonewall Uprising took place over several nights with several different factions. Fifty years ago, things kicked off riotously early in the morning of June 28th when fed-up patrons--mostly young trans women, butch dykes and drag queens of color--fought off a police raid, refusing arrest. That night, a crowd gathered, curious, excited and eager to be part of something.
The night after that, when most of the most famous pictures were snapped, an even bigger group showed up and faced off against an even bigger mass of police, including the infamous Tactical Unit in riot gear. By the third day, the Village was in uproar, with more protest and organizing and also a backlash. More conservative gays, who'd been lobbying politely for their rights for years, pleaded for quiet: "WE HOMOSEXUALS PLEAD WITH OUR PEOPLE TO PLEASE MAINTAIN PEACEFUL AND QUIET CONDUCT ON THE STREETS OF THE VILLAGE," they posted on a sign on the boarded up, broken bar window.
And that's the tension that has been with us ever since. Are rights things to be granted by the powerful to the deserving few, contingent on their obedience, someone's convenience and adherence to the prevailing rules and conventions? Or are rights rather, as revolutionaries of very many stripes have said over many, many generations, "unalienable, endowed at birth"-- which is to say, unconditional?
We would have fewer marches if we had more agreement. Meanwhile, I ask myself Kali's question in a slightly amended form: where would we be today if more people were comfortable with being just a little bit uncomfortable and excited and eager to be part of something? Or, to put it another way, because Pride's about nothing if it's not about heart, if more of us loved ourselves, and one another, unconditionally?