Maurice Williamson: 'Be ye not afraid', Big Gay Rainbow speech - 2013

16 April 2013, Parliament House, Wellington, New Zealand

I've had a reverend in my local electorate say that the 'gay onslaught will start the day this bill is passed.' So we are struggling to know what the gay onslaught will look like. We don't know if it will come down the Pakaranga highway as a series of troops or whether it will be a gas that flows the electorate and blocks us all in.

I also had a Catholic priest tell me that I was supporting an unnatural act. I found that interesting coming from someone who has taken an oath of celibacy for his whole life. Celibacy... I haven't done it so I don't know what it's about.

I also had a leader tell me I would burn in the fires of hell for eternity and that was a bad mistake because I've got a degree in physics. I used the thermodynamic laws of physics. I put in my body weight and my humidity and so on. I assumed the furnace to be at 5000 degrees and I will last for just on 2.1 seconds. It's hardly eternity. What do you think?

I also head some more disgusting claims about adoption. Well, I have got three fantastic adopted kids. I know how good adoption is, and I have found some of the claims just disgraceful. I found some of the bullying tactics really evil. I gave up being scared of bullies when I was at primary school.

However, a huge amount of the opposition was from moderates, from people who were concerned, who were seriously worried, about what this bill might do to the fabric of our society. I respect their concern. I respect their worry. They were worried about what it might do to their families and so on.

Let me repeat to them now that all we are doing with this bill is allowing two people who love each other to have that love recognised by way of marriage. That is all we are doing. We are not declaring nuclear war on a foreign State. We are not bringing a virus in that could wipe out our agricultural sector forever.

We are allowing two people who love each other to have that recognised, and I cannot see what is wrong with that for neither love nor money. I just cannot. I cannot understand why someone would be opposed. I understand why people do not like what it is that others do. That is fine. We are all in that category.

But I give a promise to those people who are opposed to this bill right now. I give you a watertight guaranteed promise.

The sun will still rise tomorrow. Your teenage daughter will still argue back to you as if she knows everything. Your mortgage will not grow. You will not have skin diseases or rashes or toads in your bed. The world will just carry on.

So do not make this into a big deal.

This bill is fantastic for the people it affects, but for the rest of us, life will go on.

Finally, can I say that one of the messages I had was this bill was the cause of our drought. Well, if any one you follow my Twitter account, you will see that in the Pakuranga electorate this morning, it was pouring with rain. We had the most enormous big gay rainbow across my electorate. It has to be a sign. If you are a believer, it is certainly a sign.

Can I finish, for all those who are concerned about this, with a quote from the bible. It is Deuteronomy. I thought Deuteronomy was a cat out of the musical 'Cats,' but never mind. The quote is Deuteronomy 1:29. 'Be ye not afraid.'"

Hasan Minhaj: "There are 294 sitting members of Congress that have accepted contributions from the NRA", RTCA Dinner - 2015

Hasan Minhaj is a Daily Show correspondent. This was delivered in the aftermath of the horrific mass shotting at a gay nightclub in Orlando. The full speech is above and very funny. The excerpted text relates to gun violence.

What we saw in Orlando was one of the ugliest cocktails of the problems that we still see here in America. A cocktail of homophobia, xenophobia, lack of access to mental healthcare, and sheer lack of political will. And all of us satirists, we’ve all been yelling out, crying out, for change. But the sad reality is that we are all complicit in what happened. Every day in our workplaces, in our homes, in our religious institutions, there is covert or overt discrimination or phobia towards people of different religious, racial, or sexual walks of life. And we just sit there and we let it happen because it doesn’t affect our bottom line.

“I didn’t say it Hasan. I don’t think it that’s way. They said it, okay. It’s not that simple Hasan.”

And we just go on with our lives because it did not affect our status quo. And the sad reality is that stuff like this is going to continue to happen unless we recognise that civil liberties are an all or nothing game. A rising tide lifts all boats, it’s not pick or choose. So whether you like it or not we all have to step up and fight for each other, otherwise the whole thing is a sham. And until we do that, hijabis are going to get harassed in the streets, members from the trans community are going to be demonised for using the bathroom. And my brothers and sisters in the African American community, their spines are going to continue to get shattered in the backs of paddy wagons until we stand up and say something.

And the thing that hurts me the most is I wished I would have done more. To my brothers and sisters in the LGBTQ community and every marginalised community, I am sorry I did not do more. And the same goes for Congress. We look to you guys as our leaders. You make almost $200,000 a year to write rules, to make our society better. Not tweet, not tell us about your thoughts and prayers. To write rules to make our society better. And ultimately it comes down to money and influence. And right now, since 1998 the NRA has given $3.7 million to Congress. There are 294 sitting members of Congress that have accepted contributions from the NRA, and that doesn’t even include the millions of dollars from outside lobbying.

So before I get up here in my liberal bubble and I ask for gun control and universal background checks and banning assault rifles, we’ve got to be able to have the conversation, and right now, specifically Congress, has blocked legislation for the CDC to study gun-related violence. We can’t even talk about the issue with real statistics and facts. So I don’t know if this is, like, a Kickstarter thing, but if $3.7 million can buy political influence to take lives, if we raise $4 million would you guys take that to save lives? I don’t know.

Ultimately, I just gotta ask you this. Look, when I got into comedy, and when you guys got into media, and when you guys got into politics, we wanted to do the best work we could possibly do. Is this what you want your legacy to be? That you were a could-have-done-something Congress, but you didn’t because of outside lobbying? That you were complicit in the deaths of thousands of Americans?

And look, I know being a member of Congress is hard — you’ve got to placate your base, you’ve got to look out for re-election, you’ve got to answer to lobbyists. But please persevere, because our thoughts and prayers are with you. Good night.

Daniel Andrews: 'For the laws we passed. And the lives we ruined' State Apology to Gay Men Convicted Under Unjust Laws - 2016

24 May 2016, Parliament House, Melbourne, Australia

Speaker – it’s never too late to put things right.

It’s never too late to say sorry – and mean it.

That’s what brings us all to the heart of our democracy here, in this Parliament where, over the course of decades, a powerful prejudice was written into law.

A prejudice that ruined lives.

A prejudice that prevails in different ways, even still.

That law was written in our name – as representatives, and as Victorians.

And that law was enforced by the very democratic system to which we call ourselves faithful.

So it is our responsibility to prove that the Parliament that engineered this prejudice can also be the Parliament that ends it.

That starts with acknowledging the offences of the past admitting the failings of the present and building a society, for the future, that is strong and fair and just.

In doing so, Speaker, we’ll have shown this moment to be no mere gesture.

In doing so, we’ll have proven that the dignity and bravery of generations of Victorians wasn’t simply for nought.

And that, I hope, will be the greatest comfort of all.

Speaker, there is no more simple an acknowledgement than this:

There was a time in our history when we turned thousands of ordinary young men into criminals.

And it was profoundly and unimaginably wrong.

That such a thing could have occurred – once, perhaps a century ago – would not surprise most Victorians.

Well, I hold here an article that reports the random arrest of 15 men.

“Police Blitz Catches Homosexuals”, the headline reads.

And said a police officer: “…we just seem to find homosexuals loitering wherever we go.”

This was published in Melbourne’s biggest-selling weekly newspaper – in December 1976.

A decade earlier, in 1967, a local paper said that a dozen men would soon face court for – quote – “morals offences”, and urged the public to report homosexuals to the police with a minimum of delay.

A generation earlier, in 1937, Judge MacIndoe said John, a man in his 20s, was “not quite sane”, and gaoled him for three months on a charge of gross indecency.

In 1936, Jack, a working man from Sale, faced a Melbourne court on the same charge – and he was gaoled for ten years.

This, Speaker, is the society we built.

And it would be easy to blame the courts, or the media, or the police, or the public.

It is easy for us to condemn their bigotry.

But the law required them to be bigoted.

And those laws were struck here, where I stand.

One of those laws even earned the label abominable.

And in 1961 alone, 40 Victorian men were charged with it.

In the same year, a minor offence was created that shook just as many lives.

The penalty was $600 in today’s terms, or one month’s imprisonment.

The charge? ‘Loitering for homosexual purposes.’

This was the offence used to justify that random police blitz in ‘76.

A witness said: “Young policemen were sent…to…entrap suspected homosexuals.”

“[Officers] dressed in swimwear…engaging other men in conversation.”

“When the policeman was satisfied the person was homosexual, an arrest was made.”

When we began this process, Speaker, I expected to be offering an apology to people persecuted for homosexual acts.

But it has become clear to me that the State also persecuted against homosexual thought.

Loitering for homosexual purposes is a thought crime.

And in one summer in 1976, in one location alone, one hundred men were targeted under this violation of thought; something for which there was no possible defence.

All in our lifetimes, Speaker.

In our name.

Young people. Old people. Thousands and thousands of people.

I suppose it’s rare when you can’t even begin to conceive what was on the minds of our forebears in this Place.

But I look back at those statutes and I am dumbfounded.

I can’t possibly explain why we made these laws, and clung to them, and fought for them.

For decades, we were obsessed with the private mysteries of men.

And so we jailed them.

We harmed them.

And, in turn, they harmed themselves.

Speaker, it is the first responsibility of a Government to keep people safe.

But the Government didn’t keep LGBTI people safe.

The Government invalidated their humanity and cast them into a nightmare.

And those who live today are the survivors of nothing less than a campaign of destruction, led by the might of the State.

I had the privilege of meeting with four of those survivors.

One of them was Noel Tovey.

He was sent to Pentridge in 1951.

On more than one occasion in jail, he planned his suicide.

“Max was singing an aria from La Traviata when the police arrived,” he recalled in his book.

I was very naive. I knew having sex with men was against the law but I didn’t understand why it was a crime.

At the hearing, the judge said, “You have been charged with the abominable crime of buggery. How do you plead?”

The maximum sentence was fifteen years.

Afterwards, only two people would talk to me. I couldn’t…get a job. I was a known criminal.

And it’s ironic.

Eventually I would have been forgiven by everyone if I had murdered Max, but no one could forgive me for having sex with him.”

And Noel, in his own words, considers himself “one of the lucky ones.”

I also met Terry Kennedy.

He was 18 when he was arrested.

“When I wanted to go overseas”, Terry told me, “and when I wanted to start my own business, there was always that dreaded question:

“Have you ever been convicted of a criminal offence?”

I lied, of course.

Then the phone rang…It was an inspector from the St Kilda Police Station. He’d found me out.

With a curse like that always lurking over our heads, we always had to ask ourselves [this question] – just how far can I go today?”

That’s the sort of question which, in some form or another, must have been asked by almost every single LGBTI person.

It is still asked today – by teenagers in the schoolyard; by adults in the family home.

Yes, the law was unjust, but it is wrong to think its only victims were those who faced its sanction.

The fact is: these laws cast a dark and paralysing pall over everyone who ever felt like they were different.

The fact is: these laws represented nothing less than official, state-sanctioned homophobia.

And we wonder why, Speaker – we wonder why gay and lesbian and bi and trans teenagers are still the target of a red, hot hatred.

We wonder why hundreds of thousands of Australians are still formally excluded from something as basic and decent as a formal celebration of love.

And we wonder why so many people are still forced to drape their lives in shame.

Shame: that deeply personal condition, described by Peter McEwan as “the feeling of not being good enough.”

Peter was arrested in 1967.

He soon fled overseas to escape his life.

The fourth man I spoke with last week, Tom Anderson, met his own private terror when he was 14.

For weeks, he was routinely sexually assaulted by his boss – a man in his 40s.

His parents, in all good faith, took Tom down to the Police Station to make a formal statement and get his employer charged.

And he was.

But so was Tom.

This child victim of sexual assault was charged with one count of buggery and two counts of gross indecency.

Can you believe, Speaker, that the year was 1977?

Today, Tom carries with him a quiet bravery that is hard to put into words.

And he told me about the time – one day, just a few years ago – when his home was burgled.

“I’m a grown man”, he said, “but the moment the police came around to inspect the house, and I opened the door…I became that 14-year-old boy again.”

“I couldn’t talk. I was frozen. I was a grown man and I couldn’t talk.”

This was life for innocent people like Tom.

We told them they were fugitives living outside the law.

We gave them no safe place to find themselves – or find each other.

And we made sure they couldn’t trust a soul.

Not even their family.

A life like that. What do you think that does to a human being?

What do you think it does to their ability to find purpose, to hold themselves with confidence to be happy, to be social, to be free?

Don’t tell me that these laws were simply a suppression of sex.

This was a suppression of spirit.

A denial of love.

And it lives on, today.

While the laws were terminated in the 1980s, they still remain next to the names of so many men – most of them dead – a criminal conviction engraved upon their place in history.

I can inform the House that six men have now successfully applied to expunge these convictions from their record.

Many more have commenced the process.

This won’t erase the injustice, but it is an accurate statement of what I believe today:

That these convictions should never have happened.

That the charges will be deleted, as if they never existed.

And that their subjects can call themselves, once again, law-abiding men.

Expungement is one thing, but these victims won’t find their salvation in this alone.

They are each owed hope.

And all four of the men I met told me they only began to find that hope when they met people who were just like them.

Peter McEwan – back in the country, and emerging from years of shame – started meeting weekly with some gay friends at university in 1972.

“We realised we were all outlaws together,” he said, “and we learnt to say that we are good”.

“We learnt to say ‘black is beautiful, women are strong – and gay is good.’”

“Once I learnt I was good, it led me to question everyone who said I was evil and sick.”

“Gay men had taken on board the shame. Through each other we found our pride.”

Then he paused for a second and he said:

“Pride is the opposite of shame.”

He’s right.

Pride is not a cold acceptance; it’s a celebration.

It’s about wearing your colours and baring your character.

The mere expression of pride was an act of sheer defiance.

These people we speak about – they weren’t just fighting for the right to be equal.

They were fighting for the right to be different.

And I want everyone in this state, young or old, to know that you, too, have that right.

You were born with that right.

And being who you are is good enough for me – good enough for all of us.

Here in Victoria, equality is not negotiable.

Here, you can be different from everybody else, but still be treated the same as everybody else.

Because we believe in fairness.

We believe in honesty, too – so we have to acknowledge this:

For the time being, we can’t promise things will be easy.

Tomorrow, a young bloke will get hurt.

Tomorrow, a parent will turn their back on their child.

Tomorrow, a loving couple and their beautiful baby will be met with a stare of contempt.

Tomorrow, a trans woman will be turned away from a job interview.

And tomorrow, a gay teenager will think about ending his own life.

That’s the truth.

There is so much more we need to do to make things right.

Until then, we can’t promise things will be easy.

We can’t guarantee that everyone in your life will respect the way you want to live it.

And we can’t expect you to make what must be a terrifying plunge until you know the time is right.

But just know that whenever that time comes, you have a Government that’s on your side.

You have a Government that is trying to make the state a safer place – in the classroom, in the workplace.

You have a Government that is trying to eradicate a culture of bullying and harassment so that the next generation of children are never old enough to experience it.

You have a Government that sees these indisputable statistics – of LGBTI self-harm, of suicide – and commits to their complete upheaval.

You have a Government that believes you’re free to be who you are, and to marry the person you love.

And you have a Government that knows just one life saved is worth all the effort.

Speaker, as part of this process, I learnt that two women were convicted for offensive behaviour in the 1970s for holding hands – on a tram.

So let me finish by saying this:

If you are a member of the LGBTI community, and there’s someone in your life that you love – a partner or a friend – then do me a favour:

Next time you’re on a tram in Melbourne, hold their hand.

Do it with pride and defiance.

Because you have that freedom.

And here in the progressive capital, I can think of nothing more Victorian than that.

Speaker, it’s been a life of struggle for generations of Victorians.

As representatives, we take full responsibility.

We criminalised homosexual thoughts and deeds. We validated homophobic words and acts.

And we set the tone for a society that ruthlessly punished the different – with a short sentence in prison, and a life sentence of shame.

From now on, that shame is ours.

This Parliament and this Government are to be formally held to account for designing a culture of darkness and shame.

And those who faced its sanction, and lived in fear, are to be formally recognised for their relentless pursuit of freedom and love.

It all started here. It will end here, too.

To our knowledge, no jurisdiction in the world has ever offered a full and formal apology for laws like these.

So please, let these words rest forever in our records:

On behalf of the Parliament, the Government and the people of Victoria.

For the laws we passed.

And the lives we ruined.

And the standards we set.

We are so sorry. Humbly, deeply, sorry.

Michael Kirby: 'There will be no U-Turns', Gay Games VI, Sydney - 2002

2 November, 2002, Opening Ceremony of Gay Games VI, Stadium Australia, Sydney

Under different stars, at the beginning of a new millennium, in an old land and a young nation, we join together in the hope and conviction that the future will be kinder and more just than the past.

At a time when there is so much fear and danger, anger and destruction, this event represents an alternative vision struggling for the soul of humanity. Acceptance. Diversity. Inclusiveness. Participation. Tolerance and joy. Ours is the world of love, questing to find the common links that bind all people. We are here because, whatever our sexuality, we believe that the days of exclusion are numbered. In our world, everyone can find their place, where their human rights and human dignity will be upheld.

This is a great night for Australia because we are a nation in the process of reinventing ourselves. We began our modern history by denying the existence of our indigenous peoples and their rights. We embraced White Australia. Women could play little part in public life: their place was in the kitchen. And as for gays, lesbians and other sexual minorities, they were an abomination. Lock them up. Throw away the key.

We have not corrected all these wrongs. But we are surely on the road to enlightenment. There will be no U-turns.

Little did my partner Johan and I think, thirty years ago, as we danced the night away at the Purple Onion, less than a mile from this place, that we would be at the opening of a Gay Games with the Queen's Representative and all of you to bear witness to such a social revolution. Never did we think we would be dancing together in a football stadium. And with the Governor. And that the Governor would be a woman! True, we rubbed shoulders on the dance floor with Knights of the Realm, such as Sir Robert Helpmann and with a future Premier, such as Don Dunstan. But if an angel had tapped us on our youthful shoulders and told us of tonight we would have said "Impossible". Well, nothing is impossible to the human spirit. Scientific truth always ultimately prevails. So here we are tonight, men and women, indigenous and newcomers, black and white, Australians and visitors, religious and atheist, young and not so young, straight and gay - together.

It is put best by Corey Czok, an Australian basketballer in these Games:

"It's good to be able to throw out the stereotypes - we're not all sissies, we don't all look the same and we're not all pretty!"

His last comment may be disputed. Real beauty lies in the fact that we are united not in the negatives of hate and exclusion, so common today, but in the positives of love and inclusion.

The changes over thirty years would not have happened if it had not been for people of courage who rejected the common ignorance about sexuality. Who taught that variations are a normal and universal aspect of the human species. That they are not going away. That they are no big deal. And that, between consenting adults, we all just have to get used to it and get on with life.

The people of courage certainly include Oscar Wilde. His suffering, his interpretation of it and the ordeal of many others have bought the changes for us. I would include Alfred Kinsey. In the midst of the McCarthyist era in the United States he, and those who followed him, dared to investigate the real facts about human sexual diversity. In Australia, I would also include, as heroes, politicians of every major party, most of them heterosexual. Over thirty years, they have dismantled many of the unequal laws. But the first of them was Don Dunstan. He proved, once again, the astonishing fact that good things sometimes occur when the dancing stops.

I would also add Rodney Croome and Nick Toonen. They took Australia to the United Nations to get rid of the last criminal laws against gay men in Tasmania. Now the decision in their case stands for the whole world. I would include Neal Blewett who led Australia's first battles against AIDS. Robyn Archer, Kerryn Phelps, Ian Roberts and many, many others.

But this is not just an Australian story. In every land a previously frightened and oppressed minority is awakening from a long sleep to assert its human dignity. We should honour those who looked into themselves and spoke the truth. Now they are legion. It is the truth that makes us free.

I think of Tom Waddell, the inspired founder of the Gay Games. His last words in this life were: "This should be interesting". Look around. What an under-statement.

I think of Greg Louganis, twice Olympic gold medallist, who came out as gay and HIV positive and said that it was the Gay Games that emboldened him to tell it as it was.

I think of Mark Bingham, a rowdy Rugby player. He would have been with us tonight. But he lost his life in one of the planes downed on 11 September 2001, struggling to save the lives of others. He was a real hero.

Je pense a Bertrand Delanoe, le maire ouvertement gay de Paris, poignarde a l'Hotel de Ville au course de la Nuit Blanche. Il a fait preuve d'un tres grand courage - et il est un homme exceptionnel. When the gay Mayor of Paris was stabbed by a homophobe he commanded the party at which it happened to "Dance Till Dawn". Do that in his honour tonight. And in honour of the Cairo 52; the Sister movement in Namibia; Al Fatiha - the organisation for Gay Moslems and many others struggling for their human rights.

And I think of all of you who come together on this magical night to affirm the fundamental unity of all human beings. To reject ignorance, hatred and error. And to embrace love, which is the ultimate foundation of all human rights.

Let the word go out from Sydney and the Gay Games of 2002 that the movement for equality is unstoppable. Its message will eventually reach the four corners of the world. These Games will be another catalyst to help make that happen. Be sure that, in the end, inclusion will replace exclusion. For the sake of the planet and of humanity it must be so.

Amusez-vous bien. Et par l'exemple de nos vies defendons les droits de l'humanite pour tous. Non seulement pour les gays. Pour tout le monde.

Enjoy yourselves. And by our lives let us be an example of respect for human rights. Not just for gays. For everyone.

Harvey Milk: 'Without hope the us's give up', Hope Speech - 1977

1977, various locations, California, USA

The 'Hope Speech' was the stump speech Milk gave during his campaign in 1977 and 1978. The most famous excerpt is:

'Somewhere in Des Moines or San Antonio there is a young gay person who all of a sudden realizes that he or she is gay; knows that if their parents find out they will be tossed out of the house, their classmates will taunt the child, and the Anita Bryant's and John Briggs' are doing their part on TV.

And that child has several options: staying in the closet, and suicide. And then one day that child might open the paper that says "Homosexual elected in San Francisco" and there are two new options: the option is to go to California, or stay in San Antonio and fight. Two days after I was elected I got a phone call and the voice was quite young. It was from Altoona, Pennsylvania. And the person said "Thanks".

And you've got to elect gay people; so that thousands upon thousands like that child know that there is hope for a better world; there is hope for a better tomorrow. Without hope, not only gays, but those who are blacks, the Asians, the disabled, the seniors, the us's; without hope the us's give up.

I know that you can't live on hope alone, but without it, life is not worth living. And you, and you, and you, and you have got to give them hope.'

Thank you very much
 

Here is another longer version:

My name is Harvey Milk and I'm here to recruit you.

I've been saying this one for years. It's a political joke. I can't help it--I've got to tell it. I've never been able to talk to this many political people before, so if I tell you nothing else you may be able to go home laughing a bit.

This ocean liner was going across the ocean and it sank. And there was one little piece of wood floating and three people swam to it and they realized only one person could hold on to it. So they had a little debate about which was the person. It so happened that the three people were the Pope, the President, and Mayor Daley. The Pope said he was titular head of one of the greatest religions of the world and he was spiritual adviser to many, many millions and he went on and pontificated and they thought it was a good argument. Then the President said he was leader of the largest and most powerful nation of the world. What takes place in this country affects the whole world and they thought that was a good argument. And Mayor Daley said he was mayor of the backbone of the Untied States and what took place in Chicago affected the world, and what took place in the archdiocese of Chicago affected Catholicism. And they thought that was a good argument. So they did it the democratic way and voted. And Daley won, seven to two.

About six months ago, Anita Bryant in her speaking to God said that the drought in California was because of the gay people. On November 9, the day after I got elected, it started to rain. On the day I got sworn in, we walked to City Hall and it was kinda nice, and as soon as I said the word "I do," it started to rain again. It's been raining since then and the people of San Francisco figure the only way to stop it is to do a recall petition. That's the local joke.

So much for that. Why are we here? Why are gay people here? And what's happening? What's happening to me is the antithesis of what you read about in the papers and what you hear about on the radio. You hear about and read about this movement to the right. That we must band together and fight back this movement to the right. And I'm here to go ahead and say that what you hear and read is what they want you to think because it's not happening. The major media in this country has talked about the movement to the right so the legislators think that there is indeed a movement to the right and that the Congress and the legislators and the city councils will start to move to the right the way the major media want them. So they keep on talking about this move to the right.

So let's look at 1977 and see if there was indeed a move to the right. In 1977, gay people had their rights taken away from them in Miami. But you must remember that in the week before Miami and the week after that, the word homosexual or gay appeared in every single newspaper in this nation in articles both pro and con. In every radio station, in every TV station and every household. For the first time in the history of the world, everybody was talking about it, good or bad. Unless you have dialogue, unless you open the walls of dialogue, you can never reach to change people's opinion. In those two weeks, more good and bad, but more about the word homosexual and gay was written than probably in the history of mankind. Once you have dialogue starting, you know you can break down prejudice. In 1977 we saw a dialogue start. In 1977, we saw a gay person elected in San Francisco. In 1977 we saw the state of Mississippi decriminalize marijuana. In 1977, we saw the convention of conventions in Houston. And I want to know where the movement to the right is happening.

What that is is a record of what happened last year. What we must do is make sure that 1978 continues the movement that is really happening that the media don't want you to know about. That is the movement to the left. It's up to CDC to put the pressures on Sacramento--but to break down the walls and the barriers so the movement to the left continues and progress continues in the nation. We have before us coming up several issues we must speak out on. Probably the most important issue outside the Briggs--which we will come to--but we do know what will take place this June. We know there's an issue on the ballot called Jarvis-Gann. We hear the taxpayers talk about it on both sides. But what you don't hear is that it's probably the most racist issue on the ballot in a long time. In the city and county of San Francisco, if it passes and we indeed have to lay off people, who will they be? The last in, and the first in, and who are the last in but the minorities? Jarvis-Gann is a racist issue. We must address that issue. We must not talk away from it. We must not allow them to talk about the money it's going to save, because look at who's going to save the money and who's going to get hurt.

We also have another issue that we've started in some of the north counties and I hope in some of the south counties it continues. In San Francisco elections we're asking--at least we hope to ask-- that the U.S. government put pressure on the closing of the South African consulate. That must happen. There is a major difference between an embassy in Washington which is a diplomatic bureau. and a consulate in major cities. A consulate is there for one reason only -- to promote business, economic gains, tourism, investment. And every time you have business going to South Africa, you're promoting a regime that's offensive.

In the city of San Francisco, if everyone of 51 percent of that city were to go to South Africa, they would be treated as second-class citizens. That is an offense to the people of San Francisco and I hope all my colleagues up there will take every step we can to close down that consulate and hope that people in other parts of the state follow us in that lead. The battles must be started some place and CDC is the greatest place to start the battles. I know we are pressed for time so I'm going to cover just one more little point. That is to understand why it is important that gay people run for office and that gay people get elected. I know there are many people in this room who are running for central committee who are gay. I encourage you. There's a major reason why. If my non-gay friends and supporters in this room understand it, they'll probably understand why I've run so often before I finally made it. Y'see right now, there's a controversy going on in this convention about the gay governor. Is he speaking out enough? Is he strong enough for gay rights? And there is controversy and for us to say it is not would be foolish. Some people are satisfied and some people are not.

You see there is am major difference--and it remains a vital difference--between a friend and a gay person, a friend in office and a gay person in office. Gay people have been slandered nationwide. We've been tarred and we've been brushed with the picture of pornography. In Dade County, we were accused of child molestation. It's not enough anymore just to have friends represent us. No matter how good that friend may be.

The black community made up its mind to that a long time ago. That the myths against blacks can only be dispelled by electing black leaders, so the black community could be judged by the leaders and not by the myths or black criminals. The Spanish community must not be judged by Latin criminals or myths. The Asian community must not be judged by Asian criminals or myths. The Italian community must not be judged by the mafia, myths. And the time has come when the gay community must not be judged by our criminals and myths.

Like every other group, we must be judged by our leaders and by those who are themselves gay, those who are visible. For invisible, we remain in limbo--a myth, a person with no parents, no brothers, no sisters, no friends who are straight, no important positions in employment. A tenth of the nation supposedly composed of stereotypes and would-be seducers of children--and no offense meant to the stereotypes. But today, the black community is not judged by its friends, but by its black legislators and leaders. And we must give people the chance to judge us by our leaders and legislators. A gay person in office can set a tone, con command respect not only from the larger community, but from the young people in our own community who need both examples and hope.

The first gay people we elect must be strong. They must not be content to sit in the back of the bus. They must not be content to accept pablum. They must be above wheeling and dealing. They must be--for the good of all of us--independent, unbought. The anger and the frustrations that some of us feel is because we are misunderstood, and friends can't feel the anger and frustration. They can sense it in us, but they can't feel it. Because a friend has never gone through what is known as coming out. I will never forget what it was like coming out and having nobody to look up toward. I remember the lack of hope--and our friends can't fulfill it.

I can't forget the looks on faces of people who've lost hope. Be they gay, be they seniors, be they blacks looking for an almost-impossible job, be they Latins trying to explain their problems and aspirations in a tongue that's foreign to them. I personally will never forget that people are more important than buildings. I use the word "I" because I'm proud. I stand here tonight in front of my gay sisters, brothers and friends because I'm proud of you. I think it's time that we have many legislators who are gay and proud of that fact and do not have to remain in the closet. I think that a gay person, up-front, will not walk away from a responsibility and be afraid of being tossed out of office. After Dade County, I walked among the angry and the frustrated night after night and I looked at their faces. And in San Francisco, three days before Gay Pride Day, a person was killed just because he was gay. And that night, I walked among the sad and the frustrated at City Hall in San Francisco and later that night as they lit candles on Castro Street and stood in silence, reaching out for some symbolic thing that would give them hope. These were strong people, whose faces I knew from the shop, the streets, meetings and people who I never saw before but I knew. They were strong, but even they needed hope.

And the young gay people in the Altoona, Pennsylvanias and the Richmond, Minnesotas who are coming out and hear Anita Bryant on television and her story. The only thing they have to look forward to is hope. And you have to give them hope. Hope for a better world, hope for a better tomorrow, hope for a better place to come to if the pressures at home are too great. Hope that all will be all right. Without hope, not only gays, but the blacks, the seniors, the handicapped, the us'es, the us'es will give up. And if you help elect to the central committee and other offices, more gay people, that gives a green light to all who feel disenfranchised, a green light to move forward. It means hope to a nation that has given up, because if a gay person makes it, the doors are open to everyone.

So if there is a message I have to give, it is that I've found one overriding thing about my personal election, it's the fact that if a gay person can be elected, it's a green light. And you and you and you, you have to give people hope. Thank you very much.