Tonight, in Dallas, Texas, we marched.
We sang. We chanted. We made art.
We grieved, just a little.
But mostly we celebrated.
Tonight, we were part of a movement that began decades ago.
And we proudly bore its banner in homage to the fallen heroes of our cause.
The spirits of the departed—those murdered for their beliefs, those angels whose physical lives were taken by AIDS (and whose memories our rally locale was designed to honor), and those who have gone before—marched right alongside us.
Tonight—yet again—I am changed, never to be the same.
And I don’t want to be the same.
May I always rise to join the protest against injustice.
May I always come to the aid of the downtrodden.
May I always smile and sing for joy and march gladly.
For in these acts, I continue the legacy of good women and men before me.
I continue to fulfill the creation that is inside of me.
And I just might give someone…hope.
Faith, hope, and love.
It is said love is the greatest.
But when it’s wrapped in abundant hope, it’s simply unstoppable.
And when we join together to participate in the acts of love and hope, we proclaim to the world that we’re all in this together. And there’s great comfort—and encouragement—in that.
What a blessing.
What a night.
Thank you, Harvey.