Stonewall

(Fictional transcript – one woman’s account of her experience of the Stonewall Riots as a child)

When people think of Stonewall, they think of riots, of Marsha P. Johnson, of police raiding the Stonewall Inn, of people throwing bricks, of dykes and fags resisting arrest.

When I think of Stonewall, I think of my sister.

When Danny was little, we all knew she was different; she liked to wear shorts and a baseball cap instead of dresses and lipstick, and she used to skateboard with the boys from our school instead of coming to dance class with me. Momma always told her she was going to get in big trouble someday.

And she did. When Danny was just sixteen, she had a huge argument with Mom and Pops. They were in the living room, and I was sitting at the top of the stairs, watching Danny strut around in her baggy flannel shirt and chunky spiked boots. She almost scared me, she looked like such a thug. I was nine years old.

And she was shouting – “I’m not who you think I am, Mom”, or something like that. And Momma was shouting right back, accusing her of horrible things, I had to cover my ears but I could still hear them, so I ran up to mine and Danny’s room and hid under the bed with a blanket over my head.

I could still hear them. Pops was swearing.

But then, when the shouting stopped, I heard footsteps coming up, fast. The door burst open, and I saw Danny’s big boots flying around the room, heard her breathing hard, and mumbling under her breath. She didn’t know I was there.

I heard her fumbling with plastic bags and stuffing clothes into them, and I thought she must be leaving, she was running away, I was never going to see her every again. I started crying, hysterical and scared, and the noises stopped and Danny kneeled next to the bed.

“Linda? What are you doing?” She said, and her voice was so soft, I couldn’t believe she was the same person who’d been yelling at our parents downstairs.

I sniffled, not wanting so say anything, so she got under the bed with me even though she was far too big.

“Linda, look at me. What’s wrong?”

“I heard you shouting!” I snapped. “You were fighting with Mom and Pops, and now they hate you!”

The shock on her face stopped me saying any more.

“Come out from here,” she said. She got up and continued packing her bags. I reluctantly followed her, and she sat me on her side of the bed.

“Do you know what ‘gay’ means, Lydia?” She said calmly. I nodded my head. One of the older boys at school once said he was gay, and everyone hated him for it. The other boys used to spit at him, I saw them.

“Do you think it’s bad, being gay?” Her voice was nervous now, tentative, she didn’t want to upset me but it was too late anyway because I was crying again.

“Yes! They spit at him, on his clothes and on his food!” I wailed, punching the bed with my tiny fists. Danny grabbed my wrists and held them until I calmed down.

“Linda, look at me. Look at me.” I did. Her eyes weren’t blue anymore, they were big and black, and her lip was quivering. “Linda, being gay is not a bad thing, okay? Do you understand that?” I nodded. “People think it is, but they’re wrong, every single one of them. It’s normal, and fine – it’s fine! Do you hear me!” She started shouting, and I was sure the whole street could hear her.

“I’m fine! There’s nothing wrong with me, you hear me?” Danny ran to the window and opened it as wide as she could, and kept screaming, “There’s nothing wrong with me!” The chains rattled on her chunky boots.

Eventually, Danny turned to me and said, “We’re leaving. Put some clean clothes in a bag, I’m taking you with me.”

“Where are we going?” I asked, suddenly excited that I was being included. Little did I know.

“We’re going to go and help some gay people. Is that okay, Lin?”

I wasn’t paying attention, I just nodded my head, ready to go anywhere with Danny. She gave me one of her plastic bags and I quickly put some of my best dance dresses in it.

“No, stop – what are you doing? It’s winter, get some proper clothes in there. You won’t have time for dancing.” I frowned – no dancing? Where on earth were we going, where there was no dancing?

“Ugh, look.” Danny stuffed some of my fresh laundry into the bag and then slung it over her shoulder. “C’mon, we don’t have much time. It’s almost sunrise.” She went back to the window, and jumped out. I gasped.

“Come on!” I heard her shout. Mom’s voice floated up the stairs, she was angry again, and she was shouting for Danny to come down. I quickly ran to the window, sat on the ledge, and let Danny catch me as I fell.

And then we ran.

I don’t remember much about running, but it was so far, we ran all the way downtown, and then kept running until we saw a big group of people having a party. It was so dark, it must have been something like two in the morning, and I was exhausted. How could people be having a party in the middle of the night?

Danny pulled me behind a building, out of sight. That was when I realised that it wasn’t a party. The people in the dresses weren’t singing, they were screaming – police officers were shouting, hitting them, and trying to hurt them. Why were they doing that? The police were meant to protect women from bad people. I told Danny this.

“They’re not actually women,” she whispered. Before I could even ask what she meant, she was pulling me into an alley, and we were running again.

“Where are we going now?” I asked.

There was a mad glint in her eye. “To help the gays!”

We stopped in front of a closed grocery store, and Danny fished around in her pockets. She took out a big, silver key and she used it to open the door.

“Wait here,” she said. “Don’t get caught.” And then she ran into the shop, and I stood there, silent, still hearing the singing and screaming from far away.

After waiting for forever, Danny came out with armfuls of sandwiches.

“Food,” she said, as if that explained anything. She locked the door, and then we were running again.

We went back, back, back to the party that wasn’t a party. Danny was looking around frantically, and then some people came up to us, a girl and a boy, both older and scarier than Danny. The boy was dark and he had his ears pierced, and the girl was so tall she towered over us all.

“Who’s the kid?” Said the girl.

“My sister. She’s here to help. Linda, these are my friends, Darnell and Casey.”

“Hello,” I whispered, hiding behind Danny’s legs.

Darnell and Casey nodded at me, and then Darnell leaned down and said, “Don’t be scared, kid, you’re about to change the world.” He winked at me, but I didn’t know what he meant.

And then we were running again, all of us down the street, to a big table and benches. There was food everywhere – pots of yoghurt, plastic cups of coffee, packets of crisps, punnets of apples. Danny dumped the sandwiches down by the apples. Was this for the party? No, there was no party.

“Linda, you stay here with Darnell, okay? We’ll be back. Remember when you used to play ‘shop’ when you were little?” I nodded. “You’re gonna do that again, okay?” Danny kissed me on top of my head, and then ran off with Casey towards the party.

Darnell held my hand; we didn’t speak until they came back.

There were hundreds of them.

They all came rushing towards us, trying to push to the front, and that’s when I realised what was happening: we were helping the gays.

I handed out the apples and yoghurts, moving in between crowds of tall girls in shiny dresses, and some men in dresses too, which confused me, and then short women with short hair and thick arms. The people took the food; some ate it straight away and then ran back down to where the police were, and started shouting again; some sat down and cried between sips of coffee; some were helping to hand out food, and some were forming a line to keep the cops back.

Every few minutes I saw Danny, flying around, handing out sandwiches and chocolate brownies – where had they come from? – and she was smiling so widely I thought she would burst. Darnell and Casey looked scared, and determined. I saw Casey move through the crowds, towards Danny, and kiss her on the lips before giving her an apple. Just as I was about to walk towards them, someone picked me up and pulled me backwards into the crowd. I shrieked, and tried to kick whoever was behind me, but they were strong – I yelled for Danny, and her face fell as she saw a policeman taking me away.

“Oi! You leave her alone!” She waded through the sea of people and grabbed my legs, tugging me one way while I was dragged the other.

“Let go of this child,” said the man’s voice, and his arms tightened around me. “She shouldn’t be here.” We were away from everyone else, now, but he still had to raise his voice.

“You really wanna do this?” I was more scared of Danny than I’d ever been, she was scowling, and a few people started to come over. They were big and strong.

“Ma’am, I’m going to have to arrest you if you don’t stand down.”

In a moment, we were tackled to the floor, and a brown hand grabbed my own and pulled me up, free, where I could finally breathe. I ran as fast as I could away from them, and Danny followed, scooping me up.

“We need to go, or we’ll be in big trouble.”

The food was running out, but the fighting was only just getting started, and there were more police officers. We had to go. It wasn’t safe.

Do I regret us having left so fast? Not at all – if we’d stayed, we would have died.

Darnell hoisted me up onto his shoulders, and the four of us ran, but I couldn’t recognise where we were. I’d never been in this part of town before.

“Where are we?” I asked Darnell. He tried to explain, breathless as we went up a big hill.

“This is… where Casey and I live… up the… hill… there!” Darnell pointed towards a tall, white building.

“Is that all your house?” I asked, shocked.

“No – just… the top rooms… with the light on…”

I realised that this must’ve been what ‘flats’ looked like. We ran as fast as we could up the stairs inside, collapsing into a heap at the top. Somehow, we were laughing.

I don’t know why, but I can’t remember anything else from that night. Maybe I was scared, maybe I was just confused. But I remember meeting some people that became my lifelong friends, and I even met my partner – Shanaya.

Danny and Casey are still alive, still friends, but Danny is sick. She’s in her 70s, now, and she’s beaten stomach cancer twice, but I don’t think she can do it again.

Darnell died in the ’83. He got AIDS, and so did most of our friends. His grave is nearby, we visit it sometimes, but it’s difficult getting my wheelchair down there.

The reason I chose to tell my story, the reason I waited 52 years, is because I’m still scared. What I saw that night changed me in unimaginable ways. And, no, I’m not your typical gay, feminist activist – I’ve had a quiet life, and I will continue to do so.

Above all, I want people to know that we exist: we survived Stonewall, and we have lived a normal, albeit pretty homosexual, life. And that’s okay.