Start to finish at the march on H8 2008

PHOTO by JONATHAN NAFARRETE

What began with a text message sent from the cell phone of Long Beach resident Tom Crowe on the afternoon of Nov. 6 had by the following evening turned into a gathering of 2,000-plus protesters (gay/straight, old/young, human/canine), a community action so pure in purpose and—for the most part—welcomed by neighbors that we’ve been high on this city ever since. Among those marching along Broadway toward downtown were District Weekly staffers, contributors and readers Ellen Griley, Steve Lowery, Greggory Moore, Jonathan Nafarette, Shaun Rosenstein, Sumako and Dave Wielenga. Here’s some of what we saw.

At 7 p.m. the crowd is at its breaking point, spilling over the curb onto Broadway at Redondo. Standing on top of a bus stop bench, it’s impossible to spot where the swarm of people ends—people, some of them, waiting to march down the street for the right to simply stand beside their loved one at a hospital bed. The energy crackles in the air: we are actually doing something—apathy will have to wait another week or two—even if it’s just putting one foot in front of the other.

Across the street, a father pushes a stroller. Inside is his little baby girl, bundled up against the night’s chill. Weaving through the crowd, he smiles as he is met by his husband. This, right here, is why march, gays and straights side by side: so that this kid can grow up in a world where her fathers will have the best shot at giving her a loving home and good education, as well as the chance to feel safe in her own neighborhood and supported by the community around her.
// SHAUN ROSENSTEIN

It seems each time we—my straight boyfriend of three years, my gay best friend of 10 years and myself—pass through an intersection, I’m choking back tears. This is nothing new; the better part of the three days previous were spent crying silently and alone (but happily) in front of the television, the computer and at one particularly weak moment, outside O’Connell’s. What’s different now is the impetus: not my new president, but my neighbors who have come out to join us; my neighbors, standing on street corners and waving, shouting and clapping with us; my neighbors, gay and straight, who arrived with their husbands and wives and children and dogs and who share with me a hope even greater than the one I’ve carried in my heart for the duration of the candidacy—the hope that we will one day see equality. I’m not sure what city I thought I was living in or what kinds of people I feared would confront us as we marched, but each time we pass through an intersection, I’m looking for a Yes on 8 sign, someone to tell us we are damned—at least a stink eye. Finally, at Junipero and Broadway, we have our first heckler. I can’t quite hear him, but I think he just wants us to stay off his lawn.
// ELLEN GRILEY

It’s wonderful to see the fight for equality is still strong. Standing in the whirlwind with my camera focused on protesters, I capture their messages of hope—carried upon shoulders, in hands, on sticks and on banners—a candlelit fight for religious and family freedom. A pleasant surprise—appearing in the middle of the roaring protesters—is Suja Lowenthal, cheering: “This is your city!” // SUMAKO

When we reach Alamitos—and the end of the march—I am filled with joy in my community and pride in my children—ages 17 and 15—who made the walk with me. Unfortunately, we are not filled with food, as we had not eaten before the demonstration. Dave Wielenga suggests we grab a bite and further suggests crepes at La Muse, located in the courtyard of the Cooper Arms building on Ocean Blvd. La Muse is like something out of a Woody Allen movie—all twinkly lights, round little tables and romantic urban skyline. The night is windswept and clear and we sit, our legs stiff, eating delicious crepes and talking about what we had just done as helicopters buzz overhead and sirens screech from one end of Ocean to the other. It’s when we see the huge, black SUV power onto Ocean with cops in full riot gear hanging off the side that we know things are ramped up. The SUV and its human accessories look ominous, frightening and totally cool. Suddenly, cops in riot gear are fast marching by the restaurant, first this way, then that. “That’s not necessary,” says one restaurant patron, receiving a withering “you wanna mess with body armor” glare from a cop that effectively ends the public comment portion of the program. And it is when the cops go running south again and we hear more sirens and see more helicopter spotlights that everyone in the restaurant bolts onto the sidewalk to see what is what. I stand there with our waiter and joke “Dude, I’m totally skipping on the bill.” He smiles, looks at me and says in mock horror, “He’s got a fork!” Indeed, I am still holding my fork. I laugh. Then I remember that Long Beach cops have been known to act before asking and that dudes have been shot for holding toy guns, fake knives and just recently in Anaheim, a stick. I go back inside, sit down and finish my crepe.
// STEVE LOWERY

The police start playing their “unlawful assembly” announcement (not very catchy, I must tell you) at Long Beach Blvd. As we elbow back east down First St., I sidle up to a boy in blue and ask him just what it is the police want at this point and what they will do first when they don’t get it. It isn’t so much what he says as the way he says it: he isn’t on edge, isn’t (as the kids say) fronting, just there to do police business as peacefully as possible.

Later at Broadway/Redondo things are a bit more tense. A small phalanx of cops takes to the street now and again, there’s an arrest or two, they drop back. A guy near me persuades a cop to come talk to him for a minute. He asks why the LBPD won’t treat the protesters like the LAPD has done; he speaks of the importance of this cause. As the officer backs away, his words reach me clearly: “I’ll pray for you.” // GREGGORY MOORE

Favorite signs:  “I Only Want One Wife” (a swipe at the Mormon Church, major Proposition 8 financial supporter). “If I were a chicken, I’d have more rights.” And, a personal favorite, “You done gone and pissed off the queers!” // SL

Tags: 2008, gay marriage, Long Beach, Prop 8, protest