David Runyon Memorial Man of the Year Award

acceptance speech

Award presented by OutReach, summer, 2003

Good evening, and thank you. I am honored and humbled by this award. I am especially honored that the award now carries the name of David Runyon, a man whom I loved and respected very much for his dedication to his community. Simply being nominated for this is an honor. To receive the award is an honor for which I do not feel worthy.

While I believe that I have given of myself I also believe that for every single thing that I have done there have been countless unsung heroes who have done even more. I accept this award, then, not for me, but for them.

I accept this award for all of those brave gay and lesbian rural activists who achieve victories in places where it is not as easy to be out and open and proud, people like my friend, Randy, who was always fearless about his demands for equality and justice. There are thousands out in the country who toil in the field of civil rights. This is for them.

It is also for all those volunteers all over the state of Wisconsin who do things like go into classrooms and talk about their lives to enlighten people about what it’s like to face life as a queer person in a straight world.

I accept it for people like my friend, Joe, who years ago took the brave step of exploring his gender identity by finding clothes and attitudes and feelings that fit him better than what he had been wearing. His kind of courage lies far beyond most people’s comprehension of courage.

I also accept this award for all of our allies, for people like my friend, Brian, who has always loved and respected me for who I am, and for what I am. It is also for our allies in the African-American, Asian, Latino, Native-American, and other communities who stand with us in solidarity in the ongoing struggle for equality for all.

I accept this award for the other three co-founders of the 10% Society, my friend Mark, who has worked in myriad other ways to advance the causes of the downtrodden; my friend Larry, whose crazy fairy life has him drifting somewhere around the country still challenging social norms, and my friend, Matthew, who continues to fight against injustice whenever and wherever he finds it.

I accept it for all the artists who struggle to change the world with a word, an image, a song, a touch of paint or a touch of emotion, who reveal the world by exploring it creatively, and who change the world by being true to their art and their hearts and themselves.

In that vein, I accept it for all the teens, adult mentors, parents, and behind-the-scenes supporters of Proud Theater, and also Broom Street and Stage Q, who understand that art can make a difference and that artists who are true to their vision are as much warriors of social revolution as those who wield other kinds of power.

I accept it for those who do have power and use it well, for all those politicians and leaders who stand for civil rights for all, even at the peril of their own careers, people like Governor Dreyfus, whom we honor tonight, and others in this room, people who use what power and influence they have to advance the lives and liberty of all.

But it is not just artists and politicians who advance the cause of social justice in our world. It is also those whose only political act is to bring their lovers to the company picnic. I accept this for all those who bring their lovers to the company picnic, for all those who take the brave step of coming out to friends and family, for all those who quietly do what they have to do to be true to themselves and which, ultimately and without reward, advances civil rights for all.

I accept this award for those who can’t, for those who for whatever reason have to remain silent; for those who can’t afford to come to a function like this but who struggle to make change; for those who are oppressed and may not even know it.

I accept it for people like my old friend, Richard, people who don’t have time to think about activism because all they can do is struggle to define themselves or to feed themselves. I accept it for all the drug and alcohol abusers in our community. I accept it for the silent victims of gay and lesbian domestic violence, who often cannot speak for themselves, and for people like Stacy, Randy, and others who work tirelessly to help them. I accept it for all the victims of discrimination and of violent acts. I have known too many. For every Matthew Shepherd hung on a cross there are countless unknown men and women who carry their own crosses every day. There are countless unidentified victims. There are those who deserve awards for the simple act of survival. I accept this award for them.

And with sorrow I accept it for my dear friend, Dan, who took his own life because he couldn’t fight anymore. I accept it for my friend, Earl, whose life was taken from him. I accept it for my friends Larry, Jim, Bruce, and others who lost their struggles with AIDs. I accept it for all those who work to help those people—the drug and alcohol counselors, the social workers, the hospice workers, and on and on. They are legion, these people who give of themselves for the betterment of others. They are the silent and vast and beautiful majority. There are millions upon millions of them in the world, people who silently work to make it a better place and who never get noticed. I accept this award for them.

And finally, I accept this award for my family and friends, who have always been there for me, from my first tentative steps at coming out all the way to today. And especially Brian, my lover and partner these last twelve years, my lover and partner for the rest of my life, my lover and partner on whatever plane and in whatever way our energies continue after this life is over. He never stands behind me in what I do—he stands beside me in all that I do. With love and deep admiration for all that he is, and all that I am because of him, I accept this for him.

Thank you again for this honor. I accept it with humility for all of those who deserve it, and I will do my utmost to be worthy of holding it for them.