Saturday, October 6, 2018

When Will the Tears Stop, 1998-2018

WHEN WILL THE TEARS STOP?

I wrote this for and read it at a candelight vigil in Cortland, NY, right after the death of Matthew Shepard on Oct.12, 1998. I wasn't in the closet, but I had not yet made peace with myself about being gay, still a scared kid who was coming face to face with just how the world looks at LGBTQ+ people. The world hasn't changed as much as we'd like to think it has - we still have a long way to go and too many who would do us harm...

In the twenty years since, so many other names could be said using the same words. Too many. The victims at Pulse in Orlando in June 2016. Trans-folk, particularly trans-women of color, slain yet too often forgotten (if even noticed at all). Young LGBTQ+ persons taking their own lives rather than face a world of hate and prejudice.

The night I read this, I took my first step forward to stand up and fight. I haven't stopped, although maybe I haven't always done my best. Like my siblings, I've seen the bright light of hope dimmed by the darkness in which we are still surrounded. The fight isn't over, the promise made then not fulfilled.

I thought about changing this, to make it more in sync with today. I tried, but I couldn't bring myself to alter these words that I read to a crowd of crying men and women. Then I realized that the words had to stay as I wrote them, because they show just how neither the violence nor the tears have stopped.

It has to stop. The times of tears have to stop. For all the Matthews, for each one at Pulse, for all our trans-siblings, for youth with their future before them, we have to get beyond asking when the tears will stop to a place where there is no more need for the tears. 


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The senseless and tragic death of Matthew Shepard has moved many across the nation and beyond to tears.

Like so many others, we have come together to share as we mourn the loss of a young man, a beautiful spirit. Together, we send forth our love and our prayers to Matthew’s family and closest friends. For each of them, and for everyone else touched by the evil of hate, we shed our tears.

When will the tears stop? How many more must we cry until the hate ends? How many more Matthews out there have to be lost? How many more families have to be torn by grief? How many more times must we gather in mourning? Will the tears ever be allowed to stop?

Even as we cry, we must remember that our tears are not without a power of their own. Each one we cry in the face of such a horrible tragedy is a symbol. A symbol of the caring human spirit that’s in each of us. A symbol of the love and sympathy we offer to the families of Matthew Shepard and all others whose lives have been devastated. A symbol to Matthew himself, and anyone else lost to hate, to let them know they are not forgotten.

Our tears - each one of them - is a reminder that, because of our love and compassion, we are not alone.

For Matthew and all others taken from the world by hate, our tears are a promise. A promise to never give up, to go forward, to do whatever it takes to overcome hatred and intolerance. A promise to keep his - and their - memory alive in our hearts. A promise that we will never surrender to the hatred around us. A promise that, someday, we will finally claim victory and justice for them - on the day hate itself dies.

And, for that death, there will be no tears.

I hope and I pray that day will come soon. That no one else will ever be forced to endure the violence and horrors brought on by hatred and ignorance. When we can finally be ourselves without having to fear. In memory of Matthew - and for the sake of those not yet fallen, I pray that day comes soon.

The day when the tears can finally stop.

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