A Memoir on the Day Hate Crime Legislation was Signed

By Peter L. DeGroote

I am sitting in an office at Foundry United Methodist Church. Six blocks down the road, President Obama is signing legislation adding sexual orientation and gender identity to our hate crimes laws. It has been 30 years since passage of the original hate crimes law (1979) and 13 years since the last failed attempt at amendment. (This amendments includes protection based on gender and for those with disabilities and adds resources to help local governments investigate hate crimes.)

The original law came as part of the civil rights tide that washed over this country during the 60’s and 70’s. That was when we began to understand our oppression was also a denial of our civil rights.

People began to come out. The public reaction often seemed like a game of whack-a-mole. Whenever someone decided to live a more authentic life by being honest about his or her sexual identity there were many around ready to knock them back into silence and conformity. That included family and police. Law enforcement was an openly hostile institution just as capable of rendering violence as others.

I joined Foundry in 1980, a year after passage of the original hate crimes legislation. During the early years of that decade little footprints were painted on the sidewalks of the DuPont Circle neighborhood in which Foundry is located. They marked the spot where gay men had been physically attacked and, in a few cases, murdered.

The violence had a profound impact on the entire neighborhood. It is one reason Foundry is a Reconciling Congregation and why most of the nearby churches have an open and welcoming attitude toward LGBT folks. Being a witness to violence, or knowing someone who has been beaten or killed, or realizing that such an act occurred just down the street calls up human capacities of compassion as well as questions about what it is we mean by justice.

During this time some of us who were members of Foundry began a bible study program that, after several years, launched a congregational discussion that ultimately led to Foundry’s becoming a Reconciling Congregation. Later, as clergy I had the privilege of being appointed to Foundry for a couple of years, one of which included the 10-year anniversary of the passage of the Reconciling resolution.

By then discussions had gone much further. The language of gay/lesbian was gone. The initials had grown to LGBTI. The term sexual preference, suggesting that we make a choice in our affectional ties/attractions was finally abandoned. In its place was sexual orientation. Gender identity emerged as term describing personal characteristics that many of us had to learn about—and many of us are still learning.

Along with all of those developments was emergence of the clear understanding that those tools by which we were being oppressed had to do with civil rights. In addition to hate crimes protection, we seek rights to military service, protection from discrimination in housing and employment, and marriage equality.

Civil rights are the product of the civil society, os which the church is only a member. The UM Church, claims it is committed to upholding the civil rights of all people to include LGBT people. We’ll get the civil rights, then we’ll see what the church does.  

Now, as a retired pastor, I am once more sitting here in the DuPont Circle neighborhood, in an office at Foundry, assisting in an interim way, only for a few weeks. On this fateful day I should celebrate but I feel strangely quiet. Maybe that will change tomorrow evening when we all go down the road just a little to Asbury United Methodist Church where DC clergy in support of the proposed marriage equality law in Washington have called us to join in Soulful Voices for Marriage Equality—a Faith Celebration.

The beat goes on!