TW: hate speech, violence

My 17-year-old daughter often practices lacrosse in our front yard. At least, she used to. Last year, two grown men in a black pickup truck drove slowly by and yelled obscenities at her. She came in, crying and shaken. Apparently, they didn’t like our inclusive Pride flag so they took it out on a child. 

Whenever I’m unsure who is right, I look at the groups who line up on either side of the debate. I know that if white supremacists are on one side, I want to be on the other. But it turns out that a lot of Christians don’t feel the same way. When I see Mormons standing with violent hate groups, when I see Mormons growing their own version of a violent hate group, I wonder why they think those hate groups won’t come for them just as easily.

Across the street from our local library, religious groups use megaphones to shout “God hates f–” as children arrive for story time. Proud Boys wave guns and American flags at a mom carrying a toddler. Parasol Patrol volunteers line the sidewalk between the hate groups and the library. Holding our rainbow umbrellas to block the protestors and their cameras, we escort families from their cars to the library doors. We offer noise-canceling headphones for the younger children and cheer for all of them. Inside, Miss B reads Not Quite Narwhal and I Am Perfectly Designed.

Outside, Parasol Patrol chats and laughs while we wait to escort the families back to their cars. Once, I asked a parent if they wanted headphones for their child. The parent replied, “I don’t shield her from hate: I teach her to kick its ass.”

But sometimes, the hate comes from people who are bigger, scarier, meaner, and more violent than we understand.

Sometimes, hate carries weapons. Recently while I was guarding children, a white “Christian” man shoved me from behind then elbowed me in the face. People who think white supremacy is different than Christian nationalism have never stood against either.

The most vile things I’ve ever heard were shouted by a pastor at a child under the age of 6. 

There have been a lot of calls for reconciliation, for meeting in the middle. We’ve become too divided, people protest, and we need to set aside our political differences. To be clear, I will not meet in the middle with oppressors. I don’t want to sit down at a table with two men who think it’s ever acceptable to shout “f–ing f–t” out the window of their truck, let alone men who aim those slurs at a child. I don’t want to compromise with a pastor who describes sexual acts in detail to children who love rainbows and kitties and books. 

My hard line is this: anyone who thinks someone else’s humanity is up for debate has no place in the conversation. If my body is going to be political anyway, I’ll use it to support the politics that supports us. I’ll stand, literally, against every white supremacist Christian nationalist group trying to ban trans healthcare, gay identities, drag queens and books. I’m tired of being told to wait, be patient, speak softly, smile more. Gently asking ‘please’ hasn’t moved the needle enough. And, given recent changes in U.S. laws, I would argue it hasn’t moved it at all. Compromising with oppression has cost us valuable time, valuable voices, valuable lives. Instead, you can look for me at drag events and Pride parades. I’ll be the one twirling a parasol.

The Body is Political: Part 1 (Intimate Partner Physical Abuse)

The Body is Political: Part 2 (Intimate Partner Sexual Abuse)

The Body is Political: Part 3 (Women Denied What Men Control)

The Body is Political: Part 4 (Gay All Year)