In the late 1980’s I moved from the San Francisco Bay Area, a melting pot of millions, to a small, conservative “white bread” town of roughly 8,300 in the northern California foothills. Even as a young gringo, Placerville, CA was a bit of a culture shock.
As I got older and entered High School I continued to be struck by the lack of diversity of a town nestled in the middle of a progressive state like California. In the early 1990’s I could probably count on one hand the number of black families in town. The 2000 census reported 22 African Americans lived within the city limits. In 2010, that number exploded to a whopping (insert sarcasm) 80 out of a population of 10,389 that year.
Keep in mind, this is a town only 45 minutes from Sacramento, the state capital of California, considered one of the most diverse cities in the nation when measured by their ethnic, linguistic and birthplace diversity. It is only two hours from San Francisco, an extraordinarily diverse city and the epicenter of the modern gay rights movement.
Those in the LGBTQ community were grossly marginalized in the area. In the 1990’s those that were gay didn’t talk about it much, at least the fellow teenagers I knew in Placerville. When friends of mine came out it was much later during our college years. Their emotional freedom was a true reason to celebrate.
If some perceived you as gay, there was a good chance bullies would make their presence felt. Freshmen year of High School there was a fellow classmate I played football with that kept mostly to himself. He opened his locker one day to find his mouthpiece, covered in fake blood (ketchup?) with a tampon stuck inside of it. This wasn’t typical juvenile locker room humor. They did this because they thought he was gay.
All the while a few well-meaning citizens would drive around with “El Dorado County Is Too Great For Hate” bumper stickers hitched to their wagons. I would agree with the sentiment and feel frustration at the same time, knowing the percentage of people that dedicated themselves to the journey of equality in the area was far too small.
So believe me when I tell you that “Old Hangtown” hasn’t been the most comforting place for the LGBTQ community in the past. Besides the brave half a dozen souls that have held signs of support off of Highway 50 in the middle of town from time-to-time, there has never been an official Gay Pride event in the city proper.
This past Sunday, however, I saw history made in those foothills, as Placerville celebrated its first Gay Pride event in the city’s history.
I saw organizers throw their heart and soul into an idea, that despite the loud rhetoric of opposition, they took a chance that a Gay Pride event in a small town was worth it. If nothing else than to show the LGBTQ youth they had a voice and that a whole lot of supporters have their back.
I witnessed dozens of people join together in the fight for equality at the steps of the El Dorado County Courthouse, nervous of the possibility of opposing protestors, but confident in their voice and their mission. Car horns of support honked as the minutes ticket away and dozens turned into hundreds. All ready to march across the Bedford Street Bridge, hand-in-hand with people of all sexual orientations, colors, creeds, and ages, celebrating a day they had waited far too long for in the community they call home.
As a line of sign carrying, slogan wearing allies entered the event at The Shakespeare Club, I observed a sign at the door. A reminder that all who enter are welcome, that hate has no business there, women are respected, black lives are valued, and immigrants, refugees and people of all faiths can stand in solidarity with those that walk through that threshold.
As throngs of people walking into a building whose roof was raised in 1897, I couldn’t help but consider the history that has gone on within those walls, from celebrations of a couple’s new life together, to honoring the dearly departed, to live theater in the foothills and thousands of other community events. If those 122 year-old walls could talk, they would describe a plethora of emotions from all walks of life. Now was the day to celebrate all who entered or exited, without fear or favor.
I sat next to friends who attended elementary and high school with me, at a time that seemed not too long ago, but far enough in the past that coming out to fellow classmates in the 90’s would have been unthinkable to them due to the ridicule. I thought about the ghosts of those that did experience unfathomable shaming and bullying, who are no longer with us.
I saw tweens and teens, who were the initial inspiration of the event, bolstered by their elders so they would know they were not alone in the fight for equality, dressed to the nines in technicolor fabulousness, celebrating who they were born to be. Parents overcome with emotion that this day finally came, perhaps too late for them, but right on time for their sons and daughters.
I listened to speakers, musicians, artists and community leaders. Teaching, celebrating, sharing and healing.
I saw that El Dorado County can be too great for hate.
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