The following piece, courtesy of 365gay.com, was soooo good, I had to share it with any who might have missed it...
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LEARNING FROM LARAMIE'S LEGACY
by Cathy Renna
It's hard to imagine it�s been five years since I first spoke with Jim Osborn. Then-president of the GLBT student group at the University of Wyoming, Jim called me while huddled beneath a desk in the student center, hiding from the mob of reporters who had converged on his campus to cover the brutal beating of a young gay college student named Matthew Shepard.
When I asked Jim what GLAAD could do to help, his response was immediate and certain: "Get on a f***ing plane!" He meant it in a nice way, of course, but it told me how overwhelming the situation had become. Twenty-four hours and several connecting flights later, I stared out the window of a prop plane window as it descended toward Laramie and wondered just what I was getting myself into.
The impact of that first trip to Wyoming � and the trips that followed � is difficult to convey, even though snapshots of those experiences are burned into my memory:
� Viewing more open space and stars than I had ever seen out of the plane's window and realizing it was the stunning Wyoming landscape � and my destination.
� Attending a vigil for Matt attended by more than 1,000 of Laramie�s 26,000 residents.
� Repeatedly explaining to reporters at the courthouse and on campus that, as tragic and horrific as the circumstances of Matt�s death were, such hate-based beatings and murders of GLBT individuals were actually commonplace.
� Trying not to lose my patience as I discussed with journalists why this wasn't "just a robbery" � that the overkill that marked Matt�s death could not be explained by the theft of $20 and a pair of loafers.
� Debunking the so-called "gay panic defense" with reporter after reporter.
� Seeing Fred Phelps and his entourage parade their "Matt in Hell" and "AIDS cures fags" signs. And then seeing Romaine Patterson and other friends of Matt encircle the Phelps demonstration with their "Angel Action" � a powerful juxtaposition of hate and love.
� Watching seasoned journalists weep while listening to Matt�s father, Dennis Shepard, read his victim-impact statement in open court � and realizing the historic importance of the media�s presence in that small town, covering Matt�s murder and the events that followed.
I often speak about my experiences in Laramie. Every time I do, it hits me again: the tremendous impact Matt�s murder has had on our culture. And I never fail to stress how much more there is to do to create a world where hate crimes and bias do not thrive.
Whether I'm talking to a reporter or an auditorium of college students, one of the most common questions I'm asked is, �Why did Matt�s murder get so much attention?" Truth is, there�s no simple answer to that question, and it�s likely we�ll continue to explore the real, very complex truths behind that story for a long time to come.
I do know that there are some answers we don�t explore enough. For example, we know the people with privilege and power in our community stood up when Matt was killed, prompting the media to take notice. People who identified with Matt leveraged their resources to pressure others into doing something. It is as simple and yet also more complex than that. However, my phone did not ring off the hook for other hate victims like Latina transgender teen Gwen Araujoor Sakia Gunn and J. R. Warren, both teens of African descent. If we, as a diverse community, do not address issues of race and gender and their impact our movement�s response to incidents like this, we will continue to be frustrated by the unfairness and inconsistency of media coverage of hate violence.
But even five years after his death, Matthew�s story remains a point of reference for so many people. His name didn�t fade away because people who loved and knew him �and many others who never met him at all � have kept his memory and his commitment to a world where people love and accept one another alive. Judy and Dennis Shepard started the Matthew Shepard Foundation and through it, work tirelessly to educate and advocate for respect and acceptance. Romaine Patterson, Matt�s friend, became a civil rights activist following his death. Moises Kaufman�s �The Laramie Project" has brought the first-person stories of the people of Laramie to countless theatergoers (and HBO viewers) across the nation.
Moises' play asked the questions that we still find ourselves asking today: why are people beaten and killed simply because of who they are, how does that impact the rest of us and what role do we all play in the aftermath of such tragedies? There are no simple answers to that question, but what some people don�t realize is that the question is just as� if not more � relevant today than it was in �998.
In the past few weeks, as journalists have asked about the impact of Matt's murder, they all presume there �surely� has been great change. Has there? They don�t know that there are still 36 states where it's legal to fire someone simply for being gay. They don�t that know there is still no federal hate crimes legislation or workplace protection that covers GLBT people? And contrary to the mistaken notions of many reporters, we cannot get married in Vermont, Hawaii, or, for that matter, anywhere in the United States.
Sadder still are the statistics that demonstrate that hate crimes are still with us. This summer, when the Lawrence v. Texas decision filled the headlines and "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" was the runaway television phenomenon, violence against GLBT people surged. Our colleagues at the National Coalition of Anti-Violence Programs recently confirmed a long-held suspicion: increased visibility certainly promotes education and understanding, but combined with vitriolic denunciations of our lives (as we�ve seen by the anti-gay right post-Lawrence) it can also incite those with a predisposition to commit bias crimes.
According the NCAVP, anti-LGBT and HIV-related violence reports tend to increase 8% in July (as people respond to outreach encouraging them to make reports at Pride events).This July�s report noted that at the height of the "Gay Summer," reported hate crimes rose an astounding 52%. Similar trends have been seen in other cities, such as Toronto, where reports of anti-LGBT violence have risen close to 30% since the Ontario courts legalized same-sex marriage early in the summer.
Before and after Matthew�s murder, GLAAD has often worked with communities reeling from a bias related incident, particularly when the community is calling on the media to bring attention to the issue or when media coverage is sensationalized. It is an often frustrating and complex part of a community�s response to hate crimes but the only way to put a face on this issue for the public. From Gwen Araujo to Sakia Gunn to J. R. Warren, we've received and responded to calls from people seeking help and support � but far fewer from the media who should be thereon the front lines telling their stories.
Here's the reality: I cringe, I cry, I get angry and I get busy every time I hear about someone we have lost. I don�t need to feel "there but for the Grace of God go I" to get off my ass. Truth be told, I identified much more with Sakia Gunn�s murder than most others. Sakia was a 15-year-old butch lesbian of African descent, stabbed to death when she told a man that she and her friends not interested in their advances because they were lesbians. I took it personally because I know what it�s like to have a man make suggestive comments to my girlfriend. I know the fear of being in that situation and the courage of women like Sakia who stand up for themselves.
During a recent interview about the five-year observance of Matt's murder, a reporter asked a question I don�t get very often. "What�s the impact been on you, Cathy?" Probably just another question in a list, but I surprised myself by getting very choked up � something we "professional activists" don�t often do during interviews.
Once off the phone, five years worth of feelings, faces and memories cascaded through me � connecting Matt to the many others since him whose lives have been irrevocably altered or cut short by hate and violence. My hope is that, as our community pauses to remember, we will each of us commit both to remembering Matthew Shepard and to remembering all those whose names and lives we simply can�t let fade away.
Cathy Renna is News Media Director at GLAAD
�365Gay.com Ltd� 2003
