This is Part 2 of a daily meditation/rant/call to action where, each day, I try to unpack a particular inspirational quote from a civil rights leader that struck a chord with me, and hopefully connect some of the wisdom of their words to my life/our lives in these days leading into the Trump Era.

I was inspired to do this on World AIDS Day at the Black AIDS Institute’s “Heroes In The Struggle” Awards in Los Angeles.  It was a sobering and inspiring moment for me to be surrounded by African American activists and leaders in the AIDS movement only weeks after the election of Donald Trump.

In those first days after the election, I had moments of feeling discouraged and sorry for myself.  That mini-pity party was thrown into sharp contrast as I compared my fears to the fears of communities that are served by the Black AIDS Institute and APLA (where I serve on the Board of Directors).  I am a privileged white man with good health insurance, living in a bright blue state.   Who am I to feel discouraged?

Speakers from across the spectrum of African American activism spoke – policy-makers and grassroots organizers, HIV positive black leaders and a firebrand of a woman who has been fighting for decades for equal access to HIV care for women of color in the deep South.  And each speaker spoke with determination, and in the inspiring cadence of the best African American orators, repeating themes, a call and response with the audience that hammered home with emotional resonance that this is just another part of the struggle, and that we will not go backwards.

Myself and Douglas Brooks, one of the “Heroes in the Struggle.”

Side note:  Though I understand that it would be cultural appropriation if I attempted to speak in that cadence, a cadence that draws from the history of African American churches and preachers, there was a part of me that was so jealous of the power and the magnetism of that rhetorical drumbeat.

So, in the spirit of learning from the civil rights greats from our past, I’m taking a quote a day every day this week and trying to unpack what it could mean to me and to my community in the coming four years.  I don’t pretend to be a tenth as eloquent as any of these people, nor is the position from which I speak as fraught with consequence as the place from which they spoke.

But my hope is that my process of thinking about this, and crafting the words on paper, will inspire and re-energize me in the work that I do to try to make my world a better place.  And just maybe, if I’m lucky, it will inspire someone else in a similar way.  And I don’t mean that I want to inspire someone to think long and hard about civil rights and our history.  Inspiration has to turn to action.  If my words do not translate into action, on my part and on the part of others, they are worthless whispers in the dark.  So, if any of my words (or more likely, the words of these great civil rights leaders) inspire you…do something.  Turn that emotion into motion and action.

“Struggle is a never-ending process.  Freedom is never really won, you earn it and win it in every generation.”  Coretta Scott King

The Stonewall Riots and the modern gay rights movement began more than 45 years ago.  When we look back, speakers often talk about how we stand on the shoulders of our predecessors, like Harry Hay, Harvey Milk, ACT UP and many others.  And that is true.  There is a debt owed.

Harvey Milk

But I think that sometimes that acknowledgement of our civil rights forefathers is interpreted to mean that the hard work is done, that the first few steps are the most difficult, so we can all relax a little bit.  And when we have great leaps forward, like Marriage Equality and the repeal of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, it is often only the leaders of our organizations who immediately start shouting to remind us that we are not done.  The work is not finished.  And often, the backlash is just beginning.

I’ve heard many of our current activist leaders beating this drum, from Sarah Kate Ellis at GLAAD and Craig Thompson at APLA Health to Lori Jean at the LA LGBT Center and Chad Griffin at HRC.  But, as a person sitting in those banquet rooms at gala events, I feel like the message isn’t received over the din of silverware clattering against plates of mediocre food.  Instead, we interpret the words as the CEO of a non-profit giving us reasons why we should keep giving.  Of course they are going to say that, they are trying to salvage their organization’s reason to exist.

That’s bullshit, people.  I’m sure Sarah Kate Ellis would be thrilled to go back to a corporate media job with a big paycheck if the acceptance of LGBT people was full and complete.  I bet Craig Thompson would be relieved to shrug off the backbreaking burden of more than 15 years of struggling to provide HIV prevention, services and healthcare to the thousands and thousands people in Los Angeles who desperately need it and can’t get it anywhere else.

The idea that “struggle is a never-ending process” sounds exhausting.  And it is.  Isn’t exhausting part of the definition of struggle?  And the idea that “freedom is never really won, you earn it and win it in every generation” doesn’t downplay the importance of the icons that struggled before us.

But it does highlight that no matter when you were born, the struggle falls on your shoulders.  Let me say that again.  The struggle is yours.  You don’t get to skate by on the work of those who struggled to make a place for you to inhabit.  If that wasn’t apparent in October 2016 to many young (and older) people, I hope it became apparent in November 2016.

Just as the work of Black Lives Matter is as essential to moving the civil right conversation ahead as Martin Luther King, Jr’s speeches were then, our struggle to safeguard our LGBT rights, accelerate acceptance, eliminate disparities in healthcare, and create safe spaces for LGBTQ youth are no less important than the speeches of Harvey Milk and the activism of ACT UP.

I challenge you.  Think again when you have thoughts like… I’m relatively equal.  My co-workers accept me.  My insurance company covers my sexual health needs.  I can get married.   When you think that, remember that, perhaps you live in a blue state, or a liberal urban bubble.  Maybe you have health insurance.  You are an adult and maybe you can handle discrimination better than a 14-year-old transgender kid.  Remember all of the ways that you might be luckier than other members of our LGBT community, people who are separated from you only by the thinnest lines marking socio-economic status, or geography, or age, or employment, or gender identity.

And let that thought move you to action.  I’ll say this every time I post:  I don’t care what you do…as long as you do something.  Liking or sharing or commenting on this post is great (in fact, I’d really appreciate it).  But it’s not enough.

Become the person who can honestly say “I moved the cause of freedom, and human rights, and social justice forward.”  Do something.