One World
September 11 ... a view from a different bridge
by Sally Sheklow

We interrupt this column to bring you a special report. Anybody wondering if there's a unique lesbian take on the events of 9/11 will be pleased to know that, in fact, lesbians are to blame. Yep, according to the dubiously-reverend Jerry Falwell himself, it's our fault. No need to smoke out terrorist enclaves and training grounds across the globe, it all happened right here. Lesbians, and a choice list of other undesirables, have made God mad.

"I really believe that pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the ACLU, People for the American Way-all of them who have tried to secularize America-I point the finger in their face and say, "You helped this happen." (Jerry Falwell to Pat Robertson on The 700 Club, 9/13/01)

Bad enough communities are splitting between cries for swift military retaliation and pleas for peace. Along with the hawks and the doves, the dodo birds have now taken to the skies.

Just what we need, more finger-pointing and more division. How brilliant do you have to be to recognize a hate crime? I'm an out lesbian and a Jew, so I know from hate crimes. I've been personally targeted with hate letters and death threats, just for being who and what I am. But, as a Palestinian friend said when the red, white, and blue call for retaliation began to swell, "I don't feel personal fear. I feel collective fear." That's what terrorism does. When people are hated for who they are, everyone in that group feels vulnerable and is terrified of what else might be in store. When lesbians are shot point blank in their tent, you never want to go camping again and you look over your shoulder before you take your lover's hand in public. When a disco in Israel is blown up, Jews around the world are afraid to go dancing. The attack on the East Coast horrifies and frightens our whole country.

The way I cope is to connect with people. Thank goodness I had my writers group that Tuesday morning so we could share our raw, instinctual responses to watching the replays of planes crashing into the World Trade Center. How I appreciated having my Jewish study group that same evening to sort out our reactions to the day's unfolding. I am so thankful that my being a lesbian is not an issue in either of those settings. I am out and accepted for who I am there and don't have to worry about letting my guard down.

That's why my sweetheart and I decided to go to Eugene Celebration, our town's annual three-day self-appreciation festivities, despite our right-wing mayor's urging to cancel it. The event organizers compromised and called off the Friday night party and turned it into a candlelight vigil. Thousands attended.

The Saturday morning parade and the rest of the weekend entertainment went on as planned, even though the firefighters and a few other groups pulled out on principle. What seemed most important to us was to get out and see people. We dressed in our city's colors (rainbow tie dye) and left the house early to stake out a spot along the parade route. We unfolded our chairs, our friends laid out colorful blankets, we shared muffins and tea. Pretty soon people filled the sidewalks. The crowd was more subdued than in past years ... lots of hugging and talking about what happened. I sat back in my chair, happy to be amid a sea of people-lesbian families, old friends and neighbors, and lots of people I hadn't met before. We all needed the assurance of each other. A gaggle of little kids swarmed around us. "When is the parade starting? Is it time? Is this it?" They gnawed at their candy necklaces and bubbled with anticipation (and the onset of a sugar high).

Humanity. What a relief to get away from the TV for a while, to stop staring at rubble and tragedy and white-male newscasters with bad hair. Whining bagpipes signaled the start of the procession. Kids settled into their places to watch the show. A five-year-old friend perched on my lap; her two moms and her sister sat on the Little Mermaid sleeping bag in front of us. We waved our rainbow streamers at the color-guard marching band and the Racism Free Zone school. We applauded the SLUG Queen, the Breast Milk Is Best dancers, and all the silly, playful groups that give our town its character. We cheered for PFLAG's "Rainbow of Love" and for all the "Peace," "One Planet," and "One World" signs. We gave a big ovation for the Peace Corps' international flags. The crowd on the next block did the same. What a great feeling to hear hundreds of other folks in our town echo appreciation for peace.

When the Asian Festival contingent paraded past us, my little pal shouted, "Lookit! There's a dragon! And another one! And another one!" Her innocent joy and excitement made me realize how important it is for us all to be here. Be here for the kids, do something fun together, celebrate life. Even during these days of mourning and heavy hearts, we delight in community and honor the human family. We remind each other of our connection to the whole world. Dodo birds and all.

Sally Sheklow lives and writes in the Pacific Northwest. She is one of the four funny lesbians who founded and perform in WYMPROV!, Oregon's award-winning improv troupe. Contact her at sally@wymprov.com.