For those who seem complacent about things, this is some recent 2017 history.

Since it seems with the executive order allowing government contractors to hire or fire GLBT people  merely based on Sexual Orientation, and that they do not have to comply with the Americans with Disabilities Act, the Rehabilitation Act, the Family and Medical Leave Act, or Title VII of the Civil Rights Act;

Since it would appear that the Civil Rights of GLBT people are of little consequence, especially regarding our Transgender brothers and sisters with the appointment of the anti-GLBT  Roger Severino to lead the Department of Health and Human Services’ Office of Civil Rights;

Since it is plain that with the removal of GLBT people from the 2020 census we as people do not count and without acknowledging our existence, laws important to us as a Community  of citizens will not be considered worth enacting, and since there are proposed massive cuts in the budget regarding research, prevention and the treatment of HIV/AIDS, a situation whose results many of us are all too familiar with, I have decided that since I live on one end of my block and there is a federal building at the other, I will be taking a folding chair, a good book, with my mini IPAD which has the Nook and Kindle apps along with some downloaded  books I will have choices, an appropriate sign expressing my displeasure at the attempt to erase me , probably a large version of this cartoon, and, if I can find mine or can buy a new one, a pride flag,  and on Monday, the weather is supposed to be seasonal, will plant myself on the corner in front of that building for a few hours.

I checked the city ordinances regarding the use of sidewalks, and as I am not intending to dig it up, build some sort of progress impeding construction, resurface it, light a bonfire (yes, that has its own section), or pile a bunch of trash that people can’t easily get around, I seem to not be in danger of violating anything.

Besides, one block further down some homeless people ans a few sketchy characters are usually hanging out at the corner using the post office steps as seats on a daily basis and they are not moved along.

The front of the building is at such an angle that the one way traffic will have me facing in an “after-thought” visual position to traffic, so I may have to move to the other corner as I will be better seen by approaching traffic. It will be an aesthetics versus effectiveness choice. Plus the front corner gets sun while the other is usually mostly in the shade.

If anyone local wants to join me for the whole time or just a part, come join me. I have decided to set up my chair around 11:00 a.m., after the second episode of Dr. Who, and stay for a few hours.

Of course, if anyone yells anything negative, if my in and out ear congestion situation has me hard of hearing Monday, while I am smiling and waving with a pleasant smile, you will have to bear the brunt of what you hear that I can’t.

To make sure my message would not be drown out by unnecessary distraction, I consulted the city of New Bedford’s rules on sidewalk usage, and as I was not building a structural obstruction, resurfacing the concrete, piling trash so as to obstruct pedestrian progress, digging a ditch, or building a bonfire, as my footprint would be only the size of a folding chair and I would be neither yelling nor marching, I was going to be lawful and would most likely not have to deal with even the slightest harassment.

I arrived as I had planned, at 11:00 a.m., set up my chair, put the Pride Flag on the end of the bicycle warning flag stick, sat down, unfolded my sign, took out my e-reader, and sat down for I wasn’t sure how long.

I wasn’t sure what to expect as time went on as I had never before just set up a chair on a downtown sidewalk with a sign that supported a particular point of view on a subject on which there would be two opposing sides, and since, in my most recent past, the almost comical conservatism of the majority of the population where I had been living was often expressed in the rudest of terms, I steeled myself for the worst.

Obviously I was going to meet, for better or worse, people I would not otherwise really get to encounter other than that nano-second it takes to pass someone as I am dashing to get somewhere. I was going to potentially converse with anyone who was on that street during my time at my post, so I was going to encounter a cross section of the city’s population, most of whom would not be where I usually would be.

I was going to meet, for a short time, whoever was to pass by me, and I had no control over who those people would be.

A young security guard from the federal building approached me during his perimeter check, and asked what I was doing.

“Reading”, I replied, and I was not lying.

He looked at my sign, and then continued his rounds.

At his next perimeter check he was accompanied by his supervisor which was certainly understandable. I had prepared a defense of my action in my head complete with references to the city sidewalk code in the event I was told to move because of some supposed violation, but the supervisor merely asked what I was doing, accepted my answer, and asked who had drawn the cartoon. He gave what I took to be a neutral nod, and walked away.

It is probably petty of me, but I always put the G first because it began as the Gay Liberation movement, and then, as was only correct, the Gay and Lesbian Liberation Movement. But when Elizabeth Birch, deciding that her organization spoke for all Gay people, even without our permission, and she for her organization, decided to put the L first and notified the press that that was the correct order, I chose to ignore her and stick with history. Besides I saw the ladies before gentlemen concept to be a throwback to the pre-feminist days.

So my sign read, “Mr. Trump, GLBT people will not be erased.”

A passerby looked long at my sign and asked if I would be offended by a comment. When I told her I would not be, she told me I had spelled “LGBT” wrong.

I got a few beeps and many “thumbs up”. Passers-by made supportive comment s, and a few had some negative things to say about Mr. Trump.

Across the street from my apartment building parking lot there is a small church. I think it is evangelical only because I get that vibe. Anyway their van came down the street, and as it turned the corner it pulled close to the curb and the driver invited me to his church. Obviously a Gay man was being offered salvation. I thanked him, but politely declined. I didn’t get angry because I was doing my thing and he was just doing his. A meeting of causes.

A woman stopped to ask how far the court house was, and I asked which court she was looking for as the Juvenile Court was just across the street while the County Court was more of a drive than a short walk. She wanted Juvenile, and as I pointed out how close she was to it, she looked carefully at my sign, and then made some agreeable comments before pointing out that the topic was a concern to her because in GLBT, she was a T.

Later as she was leaving the court, she gestured to the people she had been walking with to wait as she ran across the street to tell me she had just won custody of her grandchild, and then practically skipped back across the street.

In the four hours I sat there, there was only one negative moment. A woman about my age, a hard looking woman in an old beat up van, slowed to a crawl and got close to the curb so she could yell “faggot!” at me. She sat there for a while staring at me as if she was expecting a response, but I had made up my mind from the moment I decided to do this that I would not engage, nor would I allow anyone to rile me, but would, instead, if someone wanted a discussion, hand them the pamphlet I had printed up and tell them that until they read it, a discussion would be as useless as a troll on the internet.

Not getting what she wanted, she shook her head, gave a rather generic hand gesture, and drove off.

A group of teenagers passed by and politely asked if they could take pictures of my sign.

Most people paused long enough to read the sign if they approached from behind me, and

many made a small swerve if they were coming from in front to get a better look, give a thumbs up, make a comment, or just laugh.

As I was preparing to get up and leave, an angry looking woman came running across the street followed by a younger man I assumed to be her son, came right up to the sign, and in a very thick accent told me Trump was a horrible man who wanted to hurt people like her, an immigrant who was now a citizen, but could still be arrested in a sweep.

So the day began with a Transgender woman who had won custody of her grandchild, and ended with a woman, an immigrant, who, in spite of her initial scary appearance, thanked me for publicly making a statement against the man she could not stand.

I folded my sign, took down my pride flag, folded the chair, checked to make sure the area was as clean as when I first arrived, and then walked to my apartment at the other end of the block.

The four hours flew, and because it was as good an experience as it was, but being realistic enough to acknowledge it could be totally different the next time, after my set up sat by my back door ready for the next non-rainy day, which could be tomorrow or the next, I used it four more days that week and 18 additional times over the next few ears in response to the attacks on Drag Queens and Transgender people.

Sadly, I sat alone each time in spite of multiple open invites to join me.

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