
“If a bullet should enter my brain, let that bullet destroy every closet door.”
- Harvey Milk, November 1977
I was probably sleeping at 1:20 a.m. on June, 28, 1969, when police raided the Stonewall Inn, in Greenwich Village, setting off several days and nights of riots now credited with launching the modern gay rights movement. I was four months old. Too young to know what was happening in New York or its significance to me, or that I would be among the beneficiaries of the fight started that night. I was probably more concerned with mastering the art of rolling over or holding up my head.
I was about three years old in 1972, when Harvey Milk opened his camera store in the Castro, which became the launching pad for a political career and — arguably — the next phase of the movement started at Stonewall. And, again, I was too young to know who Harvey Milk was, or that I would be among the beneficiaries of what he was starting.
But, one day, I would know.
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