The Candlelight March

On November 27, 1978, San Francisco Mayor George Moscone and Supervisor Harvey Milk were gunned down by fellow Supervisor Dan White. This occurred during the same week as the Jonestown Massacre, where hundreds of people, mostly Bay Area residents, died in a tragic mass murder-suicide. San Francisco was reeling with shock, sadness and anger - no more so than within the gay community, which lost its first true public leader, Harvey Milk.

The events of that week were before my time. Like many people in my generation, Harvey Milk was someone I knew little to nothing about.

However, the first time I saw the documentary on Harvey Milk, it stunned and moved me - nothing more so than the moments shown in the video above. Despite its profound sadness, San Francisco's reaction to this tragedy was, perhaps, one of the most poignant and beautiful human moments in the City's recent history. The silent procession of tens of thousands of people down Market Street the night of the assassinations started in the Castro but grew and grew as people from all over the City joined the march as it made its way to the Civic Center. Gay and Straight, young and old, of all colors and ethnicities - people silently and peacefully came together to honor the lives of Milk and Moscone. All this, for a gay political leader and a gay-friendly Mayor in era when most of American still saw being gay as a sin, if not a crime.



Before Harvey Milk died, he said:

"If a bullet should enter my brain, let that bullet destroy every closet door."

Since 2005, I've been slowly kicking my own closet door open after a few failed attempts to creak it open when I was much younger. As I've learnt more about Harvey Milk and the times he lived in, I've become increasingly grateful for what he fought for and what he represents. It's because of Harvey Milk and other people from his era that I no longer need to hide or feel shame over who I am. I wish I knew his story sooner, it might have helped me get through some rough times when I was a teen.

So when I found out that Gus Van Sant was filming a movie on Milk's life, right here, in the very place where it played out, I was excited. When I found out they wanted extras to recreate marches...especially this Candlelight March, I knew it was something I wanted to be a part of.



Helping recreate the marches, but especially the silent beauty of the Candlelight March, was important to me...and it had nothing to do with the chance to get some face time on a major Hollywood film. The marches gave me a chance to connect with the history of a community that I was once so deeply afraid to associate with out of fear. It gave me a chance to feel proud, and in my own way, give a silent thanks to those who came before.

The recreated march, on Friday February 8, was nothing like the real one, I'm sure. But it was still an amazing moment. I managed to wrangle a few friends into coming along and we gathered with thousands of other volunteers. The original march extended miles, this one was still impressive - a solid block of people taking up the east bound lanes of four blocks of Market Street starting at Van Ness.



Once filming started, and everyone had lit their candles...the street went silent. People got teary eyed. Every so often a wave would ripple through the crowd as people raised their candles into the air. It wasn't too hard to imagine how people must have felt on the actual night, 30 years ago. I know I felt something pretty special.

Hopefully, Gus Van Sant will do a good job telling this story - and our efforts to recreate some of its key moments will translate well to the silver screen. Hopefully, the movie will be a way for the general public to learn more about Milk and all he did and stood for.



At the very least, it gave me a memory of my first year in San Francisco that I'll always remember.