In this time of corporate virtue-signalling and rainbows on coffee cups, it sometimes seems that something key might be being forgotten.
Pride: The Riot Behind the Party
In this time of corporate virtue-signalling and rainbows on coffee cups, it sometimes seems that something key might be being forgotten.
We are all aware that being queer now is – at least on a structural level – better than it was in the amorphous past. Same-sex marriages are legal, films about Turing are sympathetic, Pride events are largely celebrated (or at least accepted), and corporations put rainbows on their coffee cups. But this surface-level acceptance can sometimes obscure the discrimination we still face as a community and often neglects the history that started it. Specifically, where the Pride festival actually came from. The Stonewall Riot (sometimes called the Stonewall Uprising or the Stonewall Rebellion) occurred in New York, in June 1969. Summer of love, surely? Only if you loved the ‘right’ person.
It should be pointed out that this was not the start of the LGBTQ+ civil rights movement, but it was a turning point.
This was not the first time a gay bar had been raided by the police.
It was not even the first time that the Stonewall Inn had been raided by the police. That week.
It was also not the first time that the LGBTQ+ community had fought back.
At this point, same-sex relationships were illegal in the USA (having only been decriminalised in the UK in 1967), so venues had to be discreet, and often operated without a drinks licence (i.e. they were run by the Mafia). This meant that they were regularly raided by the police, ostensibly due to licensing issues, and cultural norms of the time led to regular police brutality directed at the clientele.
This raid was different.
The usual police raids of the Stonewall Inn occurred on weekdays when the bar was quiet, and the Mafia being, well, the Mafia, the premises owners were usually warned first. The raid that sparked the uprising did not come with a heads-up beforehand, and happened on a Friday night, when the place was packed.
It is strange to think that the catalyst for this was simply a higher concentration of bar customers than usual when the raid happened, and it goes to show how normalised this treatment felt, event to the queer folks who were subjected to it. I have always thought of it like a pressure valve. Activism to improve the legal lot of the LGBTQ+ community had been going on for a few years, as had resentment towards police brutality. But mid-week raids, involving small numbers of forewarned patrons kept the pressure off just enough, like steam escaping from a kettle.
In the summer of 1969, the Stonewall raid became a catalyst for change. What began as a routine police action escalated into several days and nights of unrest, as members of the LGBTQ+ community resisted in unprecedented numbers. The larger number of patrons meant that the police conducting the raid soon lost control of the situation.
A couple of plain-clothes police officers had entered the bar earlier that evening to gather evidence and then alert the ‘Public Morals Squad’ (yes, really) who were waiting outside. There were around 200 customers in the Stonewall Inn that evening, many of whom had not experienced the regular raiding of the bar, and chaos spread quickly. The police barred the doors and prevented patrons from leaving.
As this was, at least in part, a raid about alcohol licencing, the standard procedure was that several vans would be waiting outside to take away the illicit alcohol, but these were delayed. The customers were lined up, and their ID examined. Female-presenting people were taken to the bathrooms by female police officers, who then examined them to confirm their biological sex. Transwomen and drag queens were then arrested.
Those who were not being arrested started to be released, but rather than simply heading off into the night, they began to congregate outside. The crowd drew others to it, until there were around 100 people milling about outside the pub. Tensions began to rise, along with the singing of “We Will Overcome”. A scuffle broke out between a police officer and a drag queen, which resulted in the latter being hit with a club. A second woman was led out in handcuffs, and also hit with a club. She escaped from, and fought against, four police officers, eventually shouting to the bystanders; “why don’t you do something?”.
This was the final catalyst, and things escalated.
Coins and beer cans were thrown, and fires were started, including in the Stonewall Inn. As a personal aside, and as someone who takes great pleasure in humour in the face of the awful things of the world, the following excellent occurrence should be noted: A kick-line spontaneously emerged in direct opposition to the line of reinforcing police who had arrived to support the original officers, many of whom were trapped in the now-burning bar. On one side you had police with night sticks. On the other side you had a kick line full of people singing “Ta-ra-ra boom-de-ay”. What a sight that must have been!
That is not to say that the determined positivity from the rioters, albeit a positivity that did not negate fires and fighting, prevented further violence. A reporter observed that; “they handcuff the guy as he almost passes out [from being punched in the face].”
Fighting and police brutality continued for several days, with thousands of protesters, queer as well as allies, turning up on the second day. Fires were lit, and kick lines gloriously resumed. On several occasions the police captured demonstrators, but each time the captives were rescued by their fellows. Guns were drawn, but thankfully, no-one was shot.
The collectivism of the riots led to the creation of several activist groups in the following weeks, which focussed on establishing spaces where the LGBTQ+ community could exist openly and safely. The growing impetus for social and legal change that arguably led to the Stonewall Riot escalating as it did impacted the traditionally much more sedate Mattachine Society annual picket which was held the following month. As an organisation they had always emphasised the sameness of the LGBTQ+ society to the wider community, and had intentionally avoided doing anything that might have been considered ‘antagonistic’. However, at the July 1969 picket (one month after the Stonewall Uprising), a lesbian couple walked along holding hands, which led to other same-sex couples in the group to do the same. The outrage that this simple action caused – just holding hands – really reinforces how much it was needed.
It soon became clear that many within the Mattachine Society, and other similar groups, wanted to take a stronger stance, and the Gay Liberation Front was formed the very same year. This was the first group not to choose an intentionally subtle name, and to include the word “gay”. They went on to create a publication simply called “Gay”, for much the same reason.
The very first Pride march was held, in New York City, exactly one year after the Stonewall Riots.
Today, Pride is often only seen as a celebration, but it is an anniversary party of a riot! The rainbow flags (on coffee cups or otherwise) that we enjoy now were born from courage in the face of systemic oppression. Remembering Stonewall can act as a reminder that progress is fought for. It places us in historical context, and reminds us that, while corporate virtue-signalling is all well and good, we are people who deserve to love and be loved, and that this simple thing has often been denied. As we celebrate, we honour those who stood up when it was dangerous to do so, and we commit to continuing the work they began.
You can find out more here:
1969: The Stonewall Uprising - LGBTQIA+ Studies: A Resource Guide - Research Guides at Library of Congress
Full Moon Over the Stonewall: Howard Smith's Account of the Stonewall Riots - The Village Voice
The Stonewall uprising: 50 years of LGBT history | Stonewall