 Welcome, I'm Mike Bensel, I'm the executive director of the Pride Center of Vermont. So I'm here to welcome you today. So today we gather on the steps of City Hall on the 39th anniversary of the first Pride March in Burlington and in the state of Vermont. We're here today to honor this historic event and as we honor our rich and vibrant history as a community. This is also an important moment in the history of our country to recognize that we gather today on the unceded land of the Western Abinaki, who referred to Indakina, which means our homeland, where they have lived for over 10,000 years. Disease, violence, and death by settlers pushed many Abinaki north dividing their territory by false country boundary. However many Abinaki also remained on the shores of Lake Champlain where they have lived for thousands of years and are still living and thriving today. May this call us to commit to continue to learn how to be better stewards of the land we inhabit as well. Thank you and welcome. So I've had the privilege to work with this wonderful group of folks to organize this event. Organizers specifically Pamela Kreineck and Leah Wittenberg worked hard to set the tone and theme for today's commemoration. There are four C words that are the theme for today. Commemoration, courage, connection, celebration, that's what today is about. Let's start with commemoration. We commemorate the first Pride March as one of the catalysts for the future LGBTQ movement in Vermont. Whether it was building a strong women's movement, starting many of the organizations that now provide vital services to our communities today, becoming the leaders who helped impact law and policy to create a better life for LGBTQ people throughout our state. We recognize these trailblazers that helped pave the way for many, many marches since. So we're here to honor the people who made the first march happen and attended and brought their vision and courage. And now this grassroots effort is recognized by the state of Vermont, the city, and we have a historical marker after a long struggle of being outcasts, threatened and made to be invisible and erased. The marker is a permanent and visible so future generations do not have to search to excavate our histories. The next theme is courage. We reflect on the courage of the original attendees and people who supported them. Courage to keep the movement going for over 40 years. These marchers were asking to be safe in our streets. They faced real consequences, fearing loss of family, employment, and risking the threat of violence. Even with so much change over the years, these risks are still very real. Today is about facing what's coming next and doing that with courage. The next theme is connection. In the past, the original marchers did not just stand for themselves, they stood on the shoulders of peace, labor, anti-racism, anti-fascism, and feminist movements and worked to be in relationships with other movements and each other. Today we're fighting for reproductive liberty. We're fighting for health equity for trans people. We're fighting to end gun violence for the safety of kids in schools and we're fighting to dismantle oppressive systems steeped in white supremacy. In order to do that, we need to work together in solidarity, in connection, be vulnerable with each other, build the connection and trust needed to resolve these harms. Today is just as important an ever to build and sustain meaningful connection, continue to support each other, continue to connect across our movements, and to find our courage to connect to the dignity of each person who experiences injustice, to show up to stand up for one another. In the wake of some frightening, some very frightening realities, whether it's the overturning of Roe v. Wade, laws that halt access to transaffirming health care, the don't say gay bill that's meant to erase LGBTQ identities, and addressing rampant gun violence and so many more obstacles ahead, let us continue to invest in our connections with one another. In order to learn how to show up for those who are most impacted by the dangerous realities of our world today. And lastly, celebration. Celebrate even on the darkest day. I celebrate each and every one of you. It's through joy and celebration that we can strengthen our connections across identities and generations. We celebrate by coming together for this event and others across the state. Celebrate with us by having some ice cream provided by we have the sisters of anarchy who are here providing ice cream today. Celebrate by connecting with friends you haven't seen in days, months, or even decades. Celebrate by running through the sprinklers because it's a hot, hot day. So the point is just to celebrate and bring your joy here. Thank you. So I'm filled with gratitude and I do have a few thank yous, just a few folks. Just again, I mentioned the Pride Marker Committee. Those folks have been working for years now to get this marker made, revising again and again to make sure that the text captured the weight and authenticity of our history and our future as a movement. So I also want to thank the Vermont Folklife Center who created the Pride 1983 exhibit that's right now that's up in City Hall which folks should be able to go in and take a look at as we speak. I also want to thank the Vermont Department for Historic Preservation who are here today. The City of Burlington, Burlington City Parks and Rec for guidance, patience, and finally the urgency to get the marker up before the event. And the mayor who's out of town asked me to read the following statement. Nearly four decades ago in 1983, Burlingtonians helped lead the way in a fight for equality and civil rights by having the city's first lesbian and gay Pride March in celebration. Today is the 39th anniversary of the historic event, well it was yesterday, but today we can commemorate the history of those who fought for our equal rights decades ago. Fighting for civil rights is never easy. Being among the first to do so is even more challenging. City Hall Park continues to be an important public square for celebration, protest, debate, and free speech. This historic site marker will serve as a reminder to families, visitors, and future generations of Vermonters who come through City Hall Park to help understand the courage displayed by members of our city's LGBTQ plus communities which over time led to Vermont successfully becoming the first state in the United States to legalize civil unions, the first state to legalize same sex marriage through an act of the legislature, and a state that is leading the way in passing comprehensive laws that protect transgender and non-binary Vermonters. And I don't want to take up too much more time, so that's from the mayor. So it's my pleasure to introduce you to the emcee of today, a familiar face to many of you. Janice Perry, aka Gal, began international touring as a solo performer in 1981. Gal was the emcee of the first lesbian at Gay March and she's agreed to emcee the celebration today. So let's give a warm welcome to Janice Perry, aka Gal. Well, WCAX has foiled some of my plans. No, they're here. No, they're in my way. Still queer. Still fabulous. I'm never going to get used to that. So I remember 1983, I remember that march very clearly because I was nervous. I had been in Pride marches already in London and in Germany and in Amsterdam. And, okay, I had already been in a lot of Pride marches in Europe, but they don't have guns in Europe. I mean, on the street, like a normal thing. And so I was aware of what could happen. And seriously, the first time a balloon popped, I was like, oh my God. I mean, I really checked to make sure everybody was safe. But as the years have gone by and we've gained more acceptance, I've been able to relax until now. So thanks for that supreme boner killer, one on Thursday and one on Friday. It's discouraging. There's not really anything to say about that except that I'm really happy that we are still here. And we are celebrating this historic event today. I never thought that I would live long enough to be historic. The only reason that some of my friends came today was because I told them there would be chairs. Yes, chairs, yes chairs. So I thought that we should start off by putting the sex back into homosexuality. And I'd like to sing a little love song. And I'm certain that I sang this song at the first march. It's my pitch pipe. Well, she's just so crazy about that superhero, even though he causes her great pain. She wears high heels and skirts too tight, gets orders from Chief Perry White. Oh, she drives me wild at Lois Lane. Super jock, he comes to save you. What a man, but he can't have you because he's too deeply into his hero game. Lady Lois, I'm the one you need for scratching that itch. He won't heed, I'll do it right, sweet Lois Lane. Lois Lane, Lois Lane, you're sure no lady. Go in places far too shady. You like to stir them old crooks appetite. Oh, oh, oh, oh, Jimmy Olsen on his knees. Ooh, doing things he thinks so please, yet Superman you want and I'm in pain. Because I'm in love and love with Lois Lane. You got a nose for news you show at Lady Lois. I think you know that your love for Super M is all in vain. It's just your way of being late. Come on, sweet thing, let's get blatant. Oh, you drive me wild, you Lois Lane. Lois Lane, you're sure no lady. Go in places far too shady. You like to stir them old crooks appetite. Oh, oh, oh, oh, Jimmy Olsen on his knees. Ooh, doing things he thinks so please, yet Superman you want and I'm in pain. Because I'm in love and love with Lois Lane. Now for the historical part. Laura Trishman is the State Historic Presort. You'll see why I'm having trouble with this. Laura Trishman is the State Historic Preservation Officer for the Vermont Division for Historic Preservation. She patiently and thoroughly guided, and I mean patiently and thoroughly and I mean over years, guided the committee through the process for this historic marker. Thank you very much for doing that. Thank you very much. Thank you for joining us today. As you've heard, my name is Laura Trishman, and it is my honor to serve as the State Historic Preservation Officer, which means among a host of many other things, some of which I learned the day I go into work. I direct the Roadside Historic Site Marker Program. Today's dedication is a significant one for a number of reasons. This is the 75th year of the marker program. This is the 300th marker placed. This is the third marker installed in Vermont recognizing the rights and freedom of the LGBTQ community. I appreciate and encourage dedication such as this for our Roadside Historic Site Markers, because it brings us together to celebrate important events, places, and people in Vermont's history. These commemorative markers present topics that expand our mind, educate us, showcase our shared history, which is something to celebrate and remember. Occasionally, the stories these markers tell is not well known, has been overlooked, and can even be hard to hear and acknowledge. But history matters and should live to teach us whether it be a celebration or a heartache. And with Roadside Historic Site Markers, we can permanently share these stories. The Vermont Roadside Historic Site Marker Program was established 75 years ago in 1947 by the Vermont General Assembly. It's one of the smallest state programs, and I believe has the greatest reach. A green and gold historic site marker even graces a Roadside in Middletown, Virginia to honor Vermont's efforts in the Battle of Cedar Creek during the Civil War. The first markers were installed in 1948 with 55 new markers set throughout Vermont by 1950. Many of the markers still stand. Some have been updated, and some have been replaced as we learn more about the stories they tell. The first markers were for nationally known people and places like Vermont's own Vice President Levi Martin. He was born in Shoreham. New Laka in Brattleboro, where Rudyard Clip Kipling wrote Jungle Book. The Revolutionary War battlefield in Hubbardton. The nation's first marble quarries endorse it. Today, there are 305 Vermont Roadside Historic Site Markers telling inclusive and diverse stories of people, places, events, all narratives that matter to Vermont, whether it be the stories of the Native Americans or the LGBTQ community. But markers are more than just standing in a place where someone long dead lived or wrote an amazing book. These markers transform you to the places that formed these people, inspired these stories, and you can still sense that same energy and inspiration as you read a Vermont Roadside Historic Site Marker. The criteria for evaluating whether a story is appropriate for a marker requires that at least 50 years should have passed to allow for a full understanding of the context, significance, and the facts. But there's a rule for exceptions if the event, place, and person is of extraordinary historical significance. That exception rule was implemented in 2016 when a group of legislators came to me and requested a marker for the Vermont equality for same-sex couples to be placed on the lawn between the Vermont State House and the Supreme Court in Montpelier. At that dedication, I heard about several other markers that we needed, including this one. Four years after that dedication, we installed the Andrews Inn marker in Bellows Falls to recognize the Bar, Disco, and Hotel that was in the 1970s a destination for the emerging gay pride movement. Now, we are here to dedicate the marker for the first Vermont lesbian and gay pride parade. These are all recent past events of historical significance, and these stories matter. And although these three markers are very important, I expect and encourage the submittal of more applications for Roadside Historic Markers that recognize and commemorate the LGBTQ people, places, plights, and successes. As you've heard, we worked on this marker for quite a while. I first received the official application just in March 2021. The resulting three-foot sign of cast aluminum is crammed with 765 characters. That includes punctuation in spaces. I challenge you to summarize your own life story thus far in 765 letters and spaces. It's not easy. And everyone who assisted in the preparation, research, and editing of this marker deserves a thank you. I especially want to call out our dedicated marker team, Leah, Meg, Mike, Art, and Pamela for sticking the course as we refine the wording. I also want to thank the city of Burlington Parks, Recreation, and Waterfront Department who undertook the installation, maneuvering a 12-foot pole and a 150-pound marker into City Hall Park. And I wish to thank the Vermont General Assembly, the Vermont Advisory Council on Historic Preservation, and the Vermont Division for Historic Preservation for the continued support of this powerful program. It is my honor, on behalf of the State of Vermont and Governor Phil Scott, to present our 300th Vermont Roadside Historic Site Marker. To the LGBTQ Plus community. With this permanent marker, this story shall not be overlooked or forgotten, but it will now be shared and remembered by a wider audience. I rewrote most of my words for today's dedication just this morning after hearing an 8-year-old boy say that history matters because it teaches us to be better people. It teaches us to be better people. I've always been an advocate that history teaches history matters, but this very young man with an old soul added a phrase that I, to a phrase I have said hundreds and thousands of times, and his addition really rang my bell. History teaches us to be better people. He defined the mission for the Vermont Roadside Historic Site Markers, in my opinion, and he moved me to tears because that is exactly what this marker should do and will do. Thank you. We're trying to be safe here. I don't even have to say anything about doing this, right? It's safe, though. Howdy Russell grew up and still lives in Heinsberg on his family farm. He's been many things in his life, a farmer, a teacher, a gardener, a candidate, a select board member, and a long-time committed advocate for LGBTQ plus rights. June 25th, 1983 was a day that Howdy was finally able to find his voice, and I guess he hasn't stopped talking since. Thank you. As Gal said, my name is Howdy Russell and I'm a little bit scared being here today, but I'm feeling way more angry than scared and I remember that those were the same sentiments I expressed 39 years ago when I spoke at this rally right on this spot. They're as applicable today as they were all those years ago. I had another statement all written, all written out for this event and then Friday, June 24th, 2022 happened and I felt compelled to modify my words. Contrary to the theme of today's event, I'm not in the mood to celebrate today. Commemorate yes, pay homage to connection and courage, absolutely, but I can't close my eyes and celebrate anything right now, but I can remember. On June 25th, 1983, 300 brave souls gathered here in this park and stood up against all odds and demanded to be seen. We demanded choice, choice in who we love, choice in how we express that love, and choice and control over our own bodies. Well, folks, the fight goes on. Our fight goes on. So let me tell you a little about the Vermont of 1983, what we did and perhaps some spark that we can take from that. When we gathered here all those years ago, we gathered to make a statement. We gathered despite threats, despite warnings, despite our own fear. We gathered to celebrate. Those of us who helped organize this Gay Pride Parade had no idea if there would be 20 of us here or 100 or however many. No idea. We just knew it was time. This was early on in the beginning of the AIDS crisis in this country and in this state. Our community was under attack by a virus and by a viral homophobic response from many in the larger community. At that time, a diagnosis with AIDS was assumed to be a death sentence and often was. This was pronounced as God's retribution by loving people of faith. It was time. We were warned by people in scathing letters to the editor that Vermont wasn't ready, that they weren't ready for this kind of public display of our perverse lifestyles. We were warned by our friends and allies that it was too much. People could get hurt. Vermont wasn't ready for this. We were warned by members of our own community who were scared that this could threaten the level of tolerance that we had been able to achieve. Tolerance? It was time. This was not the beginning of our movement in Vermont. Brave men and women had been slowly building the foundation that we stood on then and we continue to stand on today. Acts of community building and Brave one-by-one coming out had been happening here for many, many years. Coming out prior to this day generally involved sharing our truth with individuals, family members, friends, co-workers, neighbors. Usually what this coming out included was a request not to share this information with anyone else or if you did share it to make sure to tell us who they had shared it with. This information had to be contained. In truth, we had to know where the attacks might be coming from. So this event on June 23rd, 1983, was not the beginning, but what it was was a major turning point in our movement. 300 of us made a statement of that day. Look at me. We were choosing to let go of that rigidly held control of knowing who knew about who we were and who didn't. We're here, we're queer, get used to it. That rang out in the streets of Burlington. It was exhilarating. So what emerged from this one simple act? A whole hell of a lot. Groups like Vermont is for lesbian gay rights, out in the mountains, Vermont cares, outright Vermont, the Vermont coalition for lesbian gay LGBTQ rights. All these formed in the 1980s. And in the 1990s, Vermont Freedom to Marry, the Pride Center, and many other formal and informal groups of men and women advancing our agenda. Now this word agenda was a trigger word back in the 80s. We were accused of having a gay agenda. Many in our community and among our allies fervently denied that we had any such agenda. But in reality, we did. It just wasn't the agenda that they ascribed to us. Our agenda was simple. Full equality regardless of who we loved and how we chose to express that love. It was that simple. On June 23, 1983, I never could have imagined that in my lifetime, LGBTQ folks in Vermont would have achieved protections from discrimination in our jobs, our housing and public accommodations, that hate crimes would be named for what they are and prosecuted as such, not in my wildest dreams. Did I imagine it being encoded into law that we had the right to adopt children, to form legally recognized families to marry? I couldn't imagine a future where our trans sisters and brothers would be granted these rights as well. Each of these and more were battles that we engaged in and we won. I never dreamed that in my lifetime, in my hometown of Heinsberg, Vermont, would we have our own Pride march and that that march would be organized and led by a GSA from my high school. This year was its second year and we were informed that all elementary schools in our district have GSAs as well as the high school and that with the full support of the school administration, it was beyond possible, right? What I did know on June 23, 1983 was that I had had enough. I was scared, yes, but I was also angry, angry and proud. I was ready, we were ready. My greatest hope is that our righteous anger today will carry us forward through these next dark days, weeks, and maybe years. Let yourself dream about how it should be, even in these dark times. Stand together, then get out there and make it happen. Ours is the just fight. Against all odds, just like 39 years ago, we will prevail. Thank you. Leah Wittenberg was one of the founding members of the 1983 march. Leah is a role model for community engagement. Yes, we do. She spent most of her adult life in Vermont building many local women's environmental and LGBTQ plus organizations. She's Jewish, a mother, a political cartoonist, and a psychotherapist. News Channel 5, sorry, CAX. News Channel 5 did a really beautiful feature piece on her this last week, and you can find it on their site, just search Wittenberg, and it's really a very beautiful portrait of Leah emphasizing her belief in the importance of community. And I really hope you get a chance to watch that. So Leah's going to tell us about how the march first came into being. I'm just so thrilled to see everybody here. People haven't seen in many years, and just a nice big group. And I have a speech to give today, but I was almost speechless in the face of the Supreme Court decision, and like a number of people revised some of my words after Friday. And I'm also struck by how some of the things Howdy said and Mike said are some of the things I'm going to say as though there are some things that we just need to keep saying. So although we're here to celebrate history, it's also a day to mourn the ruling on Friday. This decision to overturn Roe is the loss of women's fundamental right to bodily integrity. And the decisions and efforts in state legislatures around the country foreshadows the loss of access to gender-affirming health care, criminalization of LGBT sex, and losing the rights of contraception. So these are very serious times. However, today let's celebrate a little. I'd love to tell the origin story of the first Pride March. In 1983, if you took three lesbian feminists and put them in a room together, some new project was bound to happen. And so in a living room on Monroe Street in Burlington, Lucy Gluck, Lori Larson and myself, we're talking about where to travel for Pride that June. Boston, New York, Montreal, all of the cities where we could with anonymity be loud and proud. And one of us said, why not do it here in Burlington? And in that moment that would prove historic, we decided we would hold that year's Pride March here. Just an ordinary moment, and yet so extraordinary, it would launch a tradition that lives on today. And the power of that decision only stands out for me in hindsight. Life is full of ordinary moments, but it is the actions that ordinary people take in ordinary but courageous ways that actually changes the world. We produced the first Pride celebration event, not as members of an existing group. We had no sponsorship, no board of directors, no organization behind us, no financial backing, no social media, no cell phones. How did we even get the word out? We just had our indomitable belief that it was time to be out and visible in Vermont. That's undisclosed kind of what Howdy said. Literally out of the living room and into the streets. Our theme for the day was the title of a poem by Laurie Larson. Water won't run straight, and neither will we. And we called the event Lesbian and Gay Pride Parade and Celebration. Jim Morgan, one of our organizing committee, likes to remind us, there he is, likes to remind us that it was the women who made it happen. We were the spark, but we began a collaboration with members of the gay men's community that blossomed over the years into so many of the organizations that Howdy mentioned. And I won't go over those again. Our organizing committee was six people. Howdy, Jim Morgan, Lucy Gluck, Laurie Larson, Peggy Lures, and myself. And many stepped up to help that are here today to be peacekeepers, do publicity, get permits, make banners and balloons, give speeches, and most importantly, be part of the parade. We asked the city of Burlington to endorse on March and proclaim June 25th Lesbian and Gay Pride Day in Burlington. And despite intense negative pressure in a historic six to five vote, six members of the Board of Aldermen, now called the City Council, voted for us. They were Gary DeCarolis, Peter Likowski, Terry Boricius, and Morris Mahoney, and now deceased Zoe Brina and Rick Musty. And Morris Mahoney couldn't be with us today, but he did send a statement I'm going to read. And he says, hello, Leah. I remember the controversy well. There were a few of my former supporters who said they would never vote for me again over that issue. But I knew time would be on our side and people would eventually come around. I also knew and said that there were many of my constituents who did not feel comfortable openly supporting the parade, but were close to friends and family members who were gay and appreciated the support. As a member of the Personnel Committee in the 80s, I also remember the uproar over benefits to partners of city employees which I supported prior to gay marriage becoming legal in Vermont. Congratulations to all of you on your efforts, and I wish you a wonderful day. And I know Peter is here. Peter Likowski. I don't know if Terry or Gary are here today, but can we just honor you? Peter, there's Peter, you know. I'm not sure in the moment Peter and the other folks ever got our thanks, but I think it's long overdue. That's part of the courage. Many of us had organized and marched in movements for peace against nukes and for civil rights. We were teachers, farmers, social workers, carpenters, musicians, seamstresses. We were woven into all parts of Vermont life and had for years been part of making that life better for all people. We had marched before, and yet on that June 25th in 1983 when we marched for pride in our home state, exhilarated and scared, when we stood here surrounding these same steps, 300 or so strong, we stood alone. In 2016, after the shooting at the Pulse Night Club in Florida, there was a rally here. And on the steps, standing with our community, were most members of the local clergy, public officials, the chief of police, city officials, legislators, and many, many allies. But in June of 1983, no public officials were here with us at the podium. No clergy, no legislators celebrated with us. No Bernie, that's right. No rainbow flags lined the streets. Few community leaders had our backs and some brave allies marched with us, some of whom I see here today. And many in our community could not risk marching but had to stand on the sidelines. We stood alone, but we did not stand just for ourselves. We knew that our efforts to work for our safety and dignity were inextricably tied to other justice movements. Today, we unveil an historic marker telling the story of how pride evolved in Vermont. It took almost four years of perseverance and collaboration to bring the marker here today. It stands tall so that future generations don't have to dig to excavate their history. But even monuments cast in stone and forged in metal and engraved in our Constitution can be overturned. We know this painfully today as the Supreme Court has just overturned Roe v. Wade. So we must remember to pass our stories on from one generation to the next, not just in books and archives but in our talking and connecting to each other. We must hold our history as precious because it informs our way forward. That is what we're doing here today. Our themes today are commemoration, courage, connection, celebration. But I want to add one more C, the word complexity. Look around you. We are a multi-generational movement. We are diverse in gender, expression, politics, race, ethnicity. This is the rich complexity of community. So let's stand together to commemorate the past and share in our stories of courage so that we can work together to face what comes and to ensure that our visions for the future endure. This is a memory of the first march that was... Whoops. Eww, Leah Germs. This was a memory of the first march that was sent to us from Kate Bhutan, who is a Moroccan member of the Burlington community. In 1983, I was literally just coming out and getting to know Alice, Gal, Jodi, and Dolly. I was living in Middlebury at the time and was nodded all out to my co-workers at the Vermont Bookshop, my family, or my straight friends. I remember us all gathering in City Hall Park and being nervous and thrilled all at once. I remember that several women were dressed completely in white to be our protectors. I think that Dolly and Jodi were two of them. I remember seeing a lot of supporters as we marched down Church Street and some angry people yelling at us, too. It was pretty eye-opening for me to feel all the love and to be aware of the opposite. The next morning, I was horrified to see myself on the front page of the Sunday Free Press. I guess that was the beginning of my coming out beyond my new lesbian friends. I felt myself being transported into my new life. So, who here was at that first march in 1983? If you were able to, can you stand up? And there's also, or just wave, there's also people holding photographs. If you could turn those around so people can see them. Turn them so the people in back can see. These are also people that were at the march. So, we acknowledge your courage in coming out of the closet and into the street. Thank you for doing that. So, just to say this, and I'll say it again, after we've unveiled the marker, those original marchers and photographs, please come over and we're going to take a group photo again. You know, like, better than high school reunion. Here's a memory from David Wales. My partner Larry Prim, now deceased, a former Marine, can be seen as one of those holding the banner at the front of the parade in the Burlington Free Press photo. When he got his job at IBM, the paper was sitting there on his desk and there was talk all around IBM. I was on the sidewalk at Church Street watching due to fear of violence and not wanting to be out in public. Larry Prim went on to publicly fight for civil union in later years. And Pat Torpy sent this memory. I was there, but regretfully, too afraid to march that year. I was teaching at CVU High School and feared losing my job as it was illegal to be a gay or lesbian teacher at that time. It was awful having to hide who I was. We must not go backwards. I so regret that I wasn't brave enough to march that year. When I quit teaching, I felt so liberated. I started my own business, used laser image to publish out in the mountains, and I loved doing work for gay and lesbian causes. So I just want to remind you that that's not hyperbole. The only right that we had in 1983 was basically we were allowed to exist. But we weren't, we had no protection for housing. We had no protection for employment. So any landlord or boss could say no. Couldn't get credit. We were, if the bank so desired, you would not be allowed credit because you were homosexual. If you were a mother or a father, you were denied access to your children. But you could exist, so that was something. And thankfully, things have gone a long way and let's try not to go backwards. Young people, I'm speaking to you. Dana Kaplan is on a mission to make Vermont celebratory and affirming all of our, affirming of all of our LGBTQ plus youth. He's the executive director of outright Vermont. Now, Dana, this is an interesting Dana fact. Dana has a master's in mediation and applied conflict studies. And frankly, I think we really need that now. Dana? Hey, everyone. I'm going to try and speak loud so that the folks in the back can hear. Yes? Okay. So I sometimes take a cue from young people and a couple years ago, they started showing up at rallies with their phones and their speeches on their phones. So I thought, I'm going to do that today because, you know, got to stay current with their realities. And then of course, Sawyer, who I will introduce next, totally brought a piece of paper with a printed speech. So there goes that. People living at the margins of any social identity, having to navigate systems, structures, and everyday culture that often misses, invalidates or invisibilizes our truth. We sure know how to do many things well. What sticks out so clearly in my mind right now as we gather today with all that is real and current in this very moment is our incredible ability to come together to get through life. Community, finding people that understand us, that see us, and support our full selves is the antidote to isolation that was true in 1983 and remains true today. There is no place better to see that transformation in action, the power of community than with LGBTQ youth across Vermont. As we gather to pay tribute to this beautiful historic moment, one fueled by the power of community coming together in brave and unabashed ways to claim space, to be visible, and to normalize a path forward rooted in progress for all. We must never stop connecting the dots. Leaders in our community saw then what we still hold true today, the importance of finding your people and together taking to the streets to demand more through protest, through song, and always dancing. As the Executive Director of Outright Vermont, I have the incredible privilege of learning from and alongside youth every day. Young people help us stay fresh and refreshed and have a vision for what it looks like to meet the current needs of our communities. They get the ways our liberation is complex and multifaceted and always tied together across identities. They see the ways we must coordinate our efforts for the greater good. In the face of harm, they remind us never to back down, calling out fear for the tactic that it is. They are clear in their knowing that we can't talk about civil rights or liberation without talking about bodily autonomy and affirmation, and in response, it's our job to continue working for and believing in a Vermont and a world where all people have the right to be who they are, to love who they love, and to have laws and freedoms that protect our most basic human needs. At Outright, we believe hope is a public health strategy, and while there are moments it leaves us, together we must return to hope as our anchor. Be it the hope of taking up space that's not typically afforded to you, be it the hope of finding other people who have come before you, the hope of meeting others who will always have your back, the hope of political leaders pushing for change, or the hope that our comrades instill in us when our very laws fail us. Youth are the ones we've been waiting for, and never is that more true than it is today. Here are just a few asks to all of us from wise youth leaders. Commit to unlearning some things. Break down the gender binary in our minds. Fight for trans youth having self-determination and respect all young people's bodies. Invest in our leadership and professional development. Cheer us on. Help keep us safe. Build relationships with us. And most importantly, believe in us, like actually believe in us. Yeah. So, I will tell you one person that I 100% believe in without further ado, I'm going to introduce to you Sawyer Totten, who in fact brings me all the hope in the world as he helps build the future that we need now. Give it up for Sawyer. Great safety first. I grew up in Burlington. I was born in 2003, 20 years after the first Pride in Burlington. I grew up going to Pride every year and living in a community that supported me through each and every stage of my journey. At eight years old, I first marched in the Pride parade with my older brother and other outright youth. The plan was for me to watch with my parents, but as my older brother was getting ready to leave with his friends, I looked at my parents and told them I want to go, I want to march. While marching, I felt a sense of belonging. And this was where and that this was where I was supposed to be. In school, I didn't feel like I belonged because I didn't act like other girls. But at the same time, I didn't truly feel like I belonged with the boys. I was stuck in between. When I was introduced to outright and what they offered, I felt like I belonged and could look up to the older outright youth. From those older youth, I began to see others around me, from my health care providers to staff in my schools, elected and public officials, librarians, sport coaches, neighbors and family friends I've grown up surrounded by openly LGBTQ plus community members. I know that my experience of growing up in the community of open LGBTQ plus individuals is still not the reality of LGBTQ youth in other parts of the country. In 1983, when organizing the first Pride, I wonder if you, the original organizers and marchers, could have envisioned a future in Burlington where a gender and sexuality alliance at Burlington High School could have organized a drag ball at the half-time of our homecoming football game. We not only drew national attention for the joy that we put on a display and we slayed queer and straight students and teachers strutted side-by-side down our makeshift runway while students and community members cheered from the stands waving rainbow flags, which so many people went to Party City, we completely wiped out the rainbow section. But I want to say thank you to the original organizers and marchers of Burlington Pride for being visible and opening up the door for my generation to live and embrace that embraces us, most people, and is ready to organize, advocate, and vote alongside you for our continued rights in Vermont and across the country. Thank you. This was a very unexpected memory sent to us. Lieutenant William LaWare, former police officer for 28 years of the Burlington Police Department, sent us this. During a training session at the Academy, this story was shared by an officer. The Burlington Police were as concerned as the Pride organizers about the public response to the march. An officer was assigned to participate in street clothes as part of the march and not on the sidelines. The officer recounted that he was watching the spectators for their reactions when he looked up and there was the WCAX Channel 3 camera pointing at him. In that moment, the officer thought I know why I'm here. My wife knows why I'm here. My mother doesn't know why I'm here. My neighbors don't know why I'm here. The person who cashes me out at the grocery store doesn't know why I'm here. What happens if my face is on the evening news? The officer said that that experience showed him how much courage it took for the people marching to be there and what they were willing to risk. When Leah and I were talking about this she said they did that for our protection. They put police, they like salted the crowd with police for our protection but of course if we had known that we would have been furious. But now I'm grateful and I'm glad that that officer was sharing that experience with other police. Keith Ghostland from Plainfield sent us this memory. There was a small informal group of gay men in central Vermont who had started socializing, you know the infamous potlucks. We hadn't done any formal organizing or moved past the social aspect of spending time together. We heard about the march. We did go but stood on the streets watching in amazement and pride. Some of the group were not yet comfortable making a public statement. They were not out to family, friends they were concerned about their jobs, etc. We didn't want to leave anyone alone on the street so we all stayed together and didn't participate in the march. One of the group was subsequently quoted using an alias in the Burlington Free Press article being gay in Vermont that featured Howdy and Phil. Indy Schoenher is a gender queer non-binary advocacy fellow at the ACLU of Vermont. They are passionate about social justice BIPOC issues and LGBTQIA plus rights. They've been creating progressive policy that disrupts the current systems of oppression and this is what drives Indy to continue doing their work. In their free time I can't imagine when that would be in their free time they seek moments of joy with their friends, their cats and their chosen family. Thank you. Hello my name is Indy Schoenher my pronouns are they, them I am the advocacy fellow at the ACLU of Vermont and this is such a joyful moment and also a very painful moment considering the recent SCOTUS opinions that came out. I am so grateful though to be here today to celebrate with all of you Pride this year and to commemorate the first Pride of Vermont in 1983. We have come so far in our fight for the rights and lives of LGBTQIA plus people and also we have not gone far enough. This is wild to think that 39 years ago I wasn't born Vermont had their first Pride and they created this path for us to be together today. I'm in awe of all of the people who advocated relentlessly to ensure that members of the LGBTQ community were allowed to take up space for us. To the original marchers and activists for queer liberation in Vermont and across the nation I just want to say thank you because as a queer individual I would not have this space today if not for their courage. Something that I learned recently about the ACLU of Vermont is that they've been working alongside LGBTQ activists to ensure that we have access to the rights guaranteed to us from the Constitution just to name a couple of things we've done as an organization in 1989 we helped support and mobilize members to testify at a public hearing on anti-discrimination legislation to protect the civil rights of gay men and lesbians 10 years later we filed an amicus brief to the Vermont Supreme Court to support same-sex marriage Flash forward to today on a national level we've seen activists and advocates come together to protect trans youth and their access to gender affirming care we will continue alongside leaders and organizers to fight against white, cis normative culture and to protect the rights of trans and queer people no matter what as Marsha P. Johnson said no pride for some of us without the liberation for all of us a common thread that I've found is connection the conditions and pressure of the society against LGBTQIA plus people have given us no other option but to create space for each other and to connect with our fellow community members to me this is a beautiful thing to emerge from something so oppressive and so painful this connection is what keeps me going and is what offers me hope in the darkest of times I want to share two things that I love about my queerness first my pronouns they are they and them and to me this is an intentional acknowledgement to my ancestors and to the queer and trans people who came before me it was their dreams and visions that allowed for me to stand in front of y'all at this capacity my pronouns serve as a constant reminder to the connection I have to them and without them I would not be me second my queerness holds space for me to care for myself and for my community Audre Lorde said caring for the self is not self indulgence it is self preservation and that is an act of political warfare queer lives are sacred and caring for the self is sacred and I want this to be a reminder that to sustain ourselves in this fight and in this struggle we must care for ourselves we know that this struggle is not over we are reminded daily about the attacks on trans people especially black trans women we are reminded daily when people choose to remain unbothered when we are literally out here fighting for our lives and the lives of those we love I almost said a bad word to the supreme court I am just frustrated I am so frustrated and outraged by taking away our rights maybe some of y'all can relate to this duality the duality of pain and joy that we have to hold from being queer there is pain and yet there is also joy joy because of the connection and community we have together due to shared stories and experiences I want to share an offering before I leave and you can take it or leave it my offering take space for rest and joy because this is what will sustain us in connection, community and on our journey towards liberation I'll invite you all to take a deep breath in with me and a deep breath out now and take this moment to just connect with those who are around you maybe look around see this group taking this moment as well to connect to the trans and queer people who came before us and laid the foundation in which we reside and continue our fight they created a space for this pride to exist so that we could celebrate our pride, the pride of those we love the pride of those we have lost and the pride to all the queer generations to come with gratitude, happy pride and thank you now we're going to hear a memory of a memory from Megyn Kelly so I was not at the 1983 March but my ampatina was this is ampatina Honestick she'd be thrilled about today I have to say the story she liked to tell me was how she brought up the rear on her purple Harley wearing all the appropriate safety equipment of course and she was just a person who absolutely fully believed her whole being that if you wanted to see something change you have to be part of it yourself and I would be absolutely remiss if I stood here and didn't say to those of you who were there in 1983 and were fierce enough to stand up and say why the hell not let's have a march of our own and then make it happen and to those of you who like myself were not there every day stand up and try and make this world a better place for everyone I say thank you because truly we are all human at the end of the day we are all the same and it's on us to make this world a better place than it was when we got here thank you okay I feel better about the future Meg Tenulonis is the curator of the Vermont Queer Archives and yes and manager of collections and exhibitions at the Fleming Museum Meg is another incredible example of community engagement and commitment see she's curating that right now thank you very much this is really just a thank you note related to this entire event thank you so much everyone who's here and from my heart thank you to those of you who are here and thank you to those of you who are here in 1983 thank you to those of you who are here now and thank you to all of you for coming and sharing your stories with each other with us, with everyone I wanted to especially talk about the exhibition that's on view here in City Hall which is Pride in 1983 developed with the Pride Center and the Vermont Folklife Center Madeline Winterfalk and Mary Wesley and then Andy Colovos worked with us on that and thank you so much for that you're welcome to see that it's up through the summer actually in City Hall you can share in the corner of the tent if you want to chat with them maybe get some of your memories recorded jot something down talk to us more about what you remember and this is for everyone we all have stories to tell and to share from all generations and I especially just want to say thank you to those of you who have already participated with that exhibition we were in your houses, we took photographs of you we borrowed artifacts, we talked to you there's some of you like Bill and I really just so appreciate all of the time that you spent with me and for the sake of really preserving all of our stories, thank you Pat Fontaine has something to say she's going to share a memory yes I do okay we're at the march we are peace so my dear beloved roommate at the time Leah Wittenberg said hey you want to be a peacekeeper we're doing this march and it's going to be amazing so we're standing around we're getting like out of our minds with excitement and all of a sudden I feel a tap on my shoulder and I turn around and it's a full on camera crew from CAS and they say would you care to share some thoughts about being here at the first ever pride march and I am freshly out I mean fresh and I'm giddy and sure and free to be you and me and oh my gosh it's so amazing and look at us as a community and we're changing the world blah blah blah so and then I forget about it because I'm thinking they're never going to run that footage until I started getting phone calls from friends it was on me like at the bouton it was on the 5 o'clock news the 6 o'clock news the 7 o'clock news the 13 o'clock news it was the only one of the only pieces of footage that ran and I had just righted a job at Howard mental health and I was not out so I had to go in and facing music the next day and the first person I had to come to terms was with Shirley Shirley was the receptionist and Shirley had the entire organization in the palm of her hand so I walked in took a deep breath I said hi Shirley and she looked at me for a really long moment and then she said something unbelievable she said good for you and then she started stapling papers and so I went upstairs to my office and I passed people in there off and I'm totally prepared for blowback and actually people were like hey good job yeah nice to see you on TV whatever so I'm shocked like get myself settled and I had to go in down and get my first client retrieve him we go back up to my office I close the door now this was a man who sat as far as humanly possible across from me because he thought my birthmark was contagious and so before I can even say hey how you doing he pulls his chair in the middle of the room and then he stands up and he's kind of like this like what's going on and he leans in and he says I'm one two and it probably was unprofessional of me but we started to laugh cry I don't know if anybody has ever done that and we laughed pride about our courage and our vulnerability just look around again and see who's here this is us and we are moving forward thank you okay now we're preparing to go over and unveil the marker we need strong connections now more than ever to do more than just survive so after the unveiling come back here and introduce yourself to someone you've never met and see if you can find some point of connection don't forget after the unveiling if you were here in the original march you're holding a picture come back for the group photo so it's time to commemorate Leah and Lucy Gluck have recreated the banner that they made in 1983 and they're going to lead us over to the marker it is our sacred marker and I'm going to read what it says lesbian and gay pride parade in 1983 a group of lesbian feminists began planning for the first Vermont pride march to be held and invited the gay male community to join at that time public celebration of pride in Vermont was controversial Vermonters attended marches in larger cities where it was safe to be visible commemorating the stone wall uprising of June 1969 in New York City the beginning of the national LGBT pride movement linking the struggles to racism classism anti-semitism planners of the Vermont event asked for the endorsement of government officials and over 300 organizations despite some vigorous opposition the Burlington Board of Alderman ultimately endorsed the march in a protest to five votes the lesbian and gay pride with the theme water