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0 reviewsI signed up in ’68, when I was 14 years old. Like other young people across
the United States, I wanted to do my part to end the war in Vietnam. My family
had just moved from Pennsylvania to Arizona and when Cesar Chavez and the
United Farm Workers came to organize the grape pickers, my friends and I knew
right away that it was part of the bigger picture and signed up for picket duty and
walked in the marches.
It took a while for word of the women’s movement to reach us in the Arizona
desert but when we heard about it we joined that call, too, circulating petitions
for the Equal Rights Amendment and speaking out against rape, sexual
harassment, and wage inequity.
It wasn’t until 1971 that I learned that part of the movement was especially
for people like me. I read about it in the “Year in Review—1971” issue of Life
magazine in my high school library while skipping gym class. Gym wasn’t a
safe place for me; I didn’t get beat up much but the threat was always present. I
invented a mysterious lung malady to persuade our family physician that I was
too ill to attend physical education. Instead, I’d spend the hour in the library
reading magazines or pretending to study while trying to remember to cough
every few minutes.
So it was that one afternoon I was idly flipping through the pages of Life
magazine when the headlines leapt off the page: “Homosexuals in Revolt!”
Several pages of text and photographs of the new gay liberation movement
followed, including photos of handsome long-haired young men marching with
fists in the air through the streets of Greenwich Village, Los Angeles, and San
Francisco. I was thrilled and then amazed when I looked closely at one of the
photo captions and read that a small group called Gay Liberation Arizona Desert
was holding meetings at Arizona State University, the school where both my
parents taught and where I would no doubt enroll after I graduated from high
school the following year.
I am pretty
…