By Michelle “Shelley” Champlin–
When I heard the official annual Dyke March was canceled a few days before it was supposed to take place, my stomach dropped and I felt emotion well up. I thought, “How can it be canceled?”
From what I understand, the San Francisco Dyke March, which has been going on since the ‘90s, was suddenly canceled due to leadership challenges within the official Dyke March committee such as internal conflicts, leadership deaths, and burnout. For me, the cancellation was a shock and felt like a loss.
I can’t express in words what this march means to me.
As a lesbian growing up in the closet in the culture of southern New Hampshire in the ‘80s and ‘90s, I contended with gay shame, internalized homophobia, and the trauma that accompanies this experience. Growing up, I didn’t have a community that reflected who I was or with whom I experienced shared reality.
When I moved to San Francisco in June of 2007, I could not believe the sheer magnitude of the LGBTQAI+ culture and community here. I realized the level at which we were valued and honored here and I felt like I was living in a fairytale come true. I belonged.
The Dyke March was and is maybe the best part of that fairytale come true for me and it has been a profound part of my life for the last 17 years. It’s impossible to describe the feeling, the empowerment, the freedom, the love that I feel when dancing down the middle of the street with other dykes, expressing our pride, and being cheered on with such love by folks from the sidewalk, windows, cars.
It’s so important that the march continues for myself and for the community. So. Important. We need to stay visible and we need to show that nothing will stop us showing up and showing our pride.
There was no way I could just accept that it wasn’t happening due to leadership challenges. I felt I had to try to pull people together, if possible, to march. I thought maybe people would gather to march anyway, but without a definite time or anyone organizing it, I didn’t feel it was a certainty.
So, I decided to create some big signs that on one side said, “You Are Loved,” and on the other said, “Proud Dykes Marching, 5:00 18th and Dolores,” indicating a time and the usual place. I walked around Dolores Park—where thousands of us gather to celebrate Pride on the Saturday of Pride weekend—showing one side of my signs and then the other.
Before leaving my house that day I felt tentative carrying the signs. I thought, “What if I walk around by myself with these random signs I made in front of all of these people and nobody shows up?” For a second I thought, “What am I doing?” But I didn’t feel it was an option not to try.
When I arrived at the park with friends, I just had the signs lying on the ground for a little while as I ate lunch. Even with the signs being on the ground, people began to notice them. Folks came up to me asking, “Are we marching?” and, “I thought it was canceled,” to which I would reply, “It was but we’re doing it anyway.” At the time, though, I didn’t have a definite “we.” It showed me that people really wanted this as much as I did.
I began walking around holding the signs high. You are loved. Proud dykes marching. 5:00 18th and Dolores. People began cheering as I walked by and asked to take pictures with me and the signs. I walked down one walkway at the bottom of a large hill covered with people and they erupted in cheers as I walked by! Multiple people approached me and thanked me. One person who is in the LGBTQAI+ band that always plays on Castro Street as the Dyke March goes by ran up to me and asked if we were marching and whether they should get ready to play as they normally would. I said, “Yes! It’s literally just me with a sign but lots of people were cheering and I think we will have a big group.” They said, “Great, if you’ll be there, we’ll be there.” I said, “We’ll be there.”
At about 4:40 pm I went to our location with a few friends and waited. I had also created another sign that simply said, “Proud Dykes Marching,” and held it up high so folks would see we were there and I also wanted to use it for when we marched because I knew there would not be an official banner (as there normally would be). A big group began to gather. About three or four Dykes on Bikes (motorcycles) showed up in the street and started to rev their engines as they normally would. Dykes on Bikes always lead the march. People started getting riled up and were yelling, “Whooo!”
The streets were not closed down as they normally would be and I started talking to my friends about how we were going to lead people down the road. We didn’t have an answer as to how that would work but we were going to make it work somehow. At about 4:58 pm, as I held my sign high in front of the group, a police officer came up to me. I wondered if I might be told we couldn’t do this or if I might get in trouble for some reason. He said, “Are you marching?” I just said, “Yes, we are. At 5 pm.” He said, “OK.”
People were getting antsy and wanted to start. “Two more minutes!” I said to the group. A couple of people with big LGBTQAI+ flags moved to the front with my friends and me.
5 pm hit. My friend Jamie and I both said, “OK, let’s go!” We slowly started moving into the street and cars were forced to stop. Dykes on Bikes moved to the front. One of them rode over to me and asked about which streets to go down. She asked, “The usual route?” I said, “Yes!” We started our march yelling with pride!
A couple blocks in, when we were turning, the same dyke on a bike rode back to me and said she would block traffic as we turned left. “Perfect!” I shouted. She parked her bike in the middle of the intersection and we marched by yelling, “Whooo!” as groups gathered on the sidelines and cheered us all on. We were doing it. We made it happen! Eventually a police car made it out in front of us and became our escort down the street.
Big groups of people screamed from the sidewalk and we yelled from the street. We high-fived people cheering us on. Someone came out with snacks to hand us as we walked by. Dykes yelled, “Thank you!” from the sidelines. When we reached Castro Street, there was the LGBTQAI+ band playing their hearts out. I made it a point to dance and jump up and down in front of them before continuing and I fist bumped the person who spoke to me about playing as they played their instrument.
This march was maybe my favorite one I’d experienced because we came together as a community in a profound way and nothing stopped us.
When we completed our loop and returned to the park, my friend Jamie and I thanked the police for helping us. I then noticed another friend of mine in the street and another person directing people with a megaphone. My friend said, “We’re marching at 6 pm.” I said, “We just went at 5 pm!” Apparently, some folks were also planning to gather people at 6 pm. So not only was there a Dyke March at 5 pm, but there was another Dyke March at 6 pm! Not only did the march happen, but it also happened twice! We came together as a community and made it happen. I know this truly speaks to the history of the march because it really was and is essentially a rally—a strong example of folks coming together and displaying their pride.
Sticking together as a community in love is truly the way into the future. Being LGBTQAI+ in our culture, we can relate to one another in so many ways and also, as individuals, we are all on different journeys and have had different experiences. There are, of course, moments when we don’t relate to one another. This is simply a part of being human.
Even two siblings who have grown up together and have gone through all of the same life events together will have experienced these events in very different ways. Not one of us humans can completely understand what it is like to be another. A Socrates quote that I try hard to live by is, “I do not say that I know what I do not know.” Acknowledging that we all have a unique and valid experience creates a foundation for love and respect.
As members of the LGBTQAI+ community, we know what it means to experience exclusion and we know how profoundly important it is to belong and be accepted as the unique and beautiful humans that we are. We know the deep importance of love and we have a deep capacity to love one another.
This is why I know that we can continue moving into the future hand in hand, honoring ourselves and honoring one another. It is also imperative that, as we move forward, we acknowledge, and hold in great respect, those who came before us—those whose shoulders we stand on—and all that the path that has led us to now has entailed.
Let us continue to embrace compassion for ourselves and for one another as we create our future together. We are strong, we are powerful, and we are in it together.
You are loved.
Michelle (aka Shelley) Champlin is a Teaching Artist, Intuitive, and Compassionate Facilitator living in Oakland. She is passionate about creating space for folks to connect with themselves and to honor and acknowledge their profound significance.
Published on July 11, 2024
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