program, young man,” he said. “What are you planning to do?”
I told him I wanted to work on voter registration, even though I was too young to vote. I discussed wanting to fight for community control of education in New York. This was duringthe battle in Brooklyn over community control of the schools. Rustin was supporting the teachers over the local community in the fight, so we debated that a bit. I asked him to speak at the opening luncheon my organization was having at the New York Hilton.
“I will speak at your luncheon,” he said. “Who else are you having?”
Congresswoman Shirley Chisholm, who was running for president, was also going to speak, and I told him that I was the youth director of her campaign.
“Well, I’m not supporting Shirley,” he said, “but I’ll come. And I’m going to give you five hundred dollars. Do you have any money you need to start?”
Believe it or not, I hadn’t even thought about money.
“I guess I do need money,” I said.
So he handed me a check for $500 to start my organization, the first contribution I got. He followed through and spoke at the luncheon. We actually stayed in touch through the years until he died in 1987.
I have an enormous problem with the way the black community downplayed the contributions of men like Bayard Rustin to the cause of black liberation because of our homophobia. If we’re really serious about honoring the importance of black history, how are we going to write Rustin out of the history books because of his sexual orientation, pretend that he wasn’t a crucial figure in our fight for freedom in this country because he was attracted to men? This just does not sit well with me. It’s tragically wrong.
Likewise, are we going to pretend that James Baldwin, because he was openly gay, wasn’t one of the giants not only of black literary history but of American literary history? We’re supposed to discount his forceful and courageous voice, his perceptive and scathing critiques of American society, his unique and groundbreaking talent, because his lifestyle didn’t conform to the tastes of the majority? If you’re a black nationalist, firmly committed to the advancement of black people here and around the world, you’re not going to put Baldwin near the top of the list of iconic figures in black history because you don’t like gays?
You can’t write Bayard Rustin out of civil rights history. You can’t write James Baldwin out of literary history. We don’t have a problem honoring black leaders who have been adulterous, who have been involved in financial scandals, who were some of the most narcissistic, unpleasant individuals you could ever come across. You could sleep with half of your congregation and still be a revered pastor—as long as those congregants were women.
I have been fighting since I was fourteen years old to push our society to recognize the value of every human life, struggling to force the state to acknowledge the importance of human dignity, so how can I sit by and think that this treatment of gays is OK?
How can I call myself a civil rights leader if I am blind to this grossly unjust civil right being trampled right in front of my face?
Indeed, as a nation that sees each of its denizens imbued with the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,how can we accept the denial of this right to such a significant portion of the American populace?
Is there anything more un-American than that?
I would like for my country to view gay rights as one of the great human rights issues of our time.
My evolution on this issue has also demonstrated to me the importance of staying strong and resolute in your beliefs, even if you’re confronted with denunciation and attack.
I came out in support of gay marriage in 2003, long before President Obama made it a major issue in the black community. This was as I prepared to run for president myself in 2004, and I think it took a lot of people by surprise. Those