"If I could take all my parts with me when I go somewhere, and not have to say to one of them, 'No, you stay home tonight, you won't be welcome,' because I'm going to an all-white party where I can be gay, but not Black. Or I'm going to a Black poetry reading, and half the poets are antihomosexual, or thousands of situations where something of what I am cannot come with me. The day all the different parts of me can come along, we would have what I would call a revolution."
- Pat Parker, Movement In Black

Most LGBT people understand the hurt and pain that comes from forcing parts of ourselves into isolation. For many of us, coming out of the closet was a personal commitment to live a life that honors all parts of ourselves. Coming out is a declaration of hope, to experience the joy and liberation that comes from entering a community of people as a whole self.

It has been from this isolation and toward the hope of community that much of the LGBT culture has been built. However, many people of color do not find sanctuary in the LGBT community, only a familiar kind of isolation born from discrimination and prejudice. According to the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force more than half of Black LGBT people agree that racism is a problem in their relations with the LGBT community and one-third reported negative experiences in LGBT establishments.

Addressing concerns of racism in LGBT culture must be immediate and sustained. In HIV prevention, we know that isolation can be a major cofactor in becoming HIV positive and an obstacle to seeking care. Several studies document the correlation between three forms of social oppression - homophobia, racism and poverty - with the risk-taking behavior associated with HIV transmission.

Racism is also a betrayal of the core values that we base the LGBT movement on: freedom from discrimination and harassment and equal access and opportunity. These ideals are hard won and are the stepping-stones to creating the kind of community and culture that we all long for and deserve. Coming out of isolation must be something available to all of us in the LGBT community.

For these reasons, and many more, we must foster sustained dialogue within our community about the importance of diversity and inclusion. Already, Black Rap, the Dyke March, the Gay Men's Community Initiative, the STOP AIDS Project, IsBadlandBad?, and others have re-ignited challenging but important conversations about inclusion, as have countless other San Franciscans in the media, in restaurants, and on street corners. We applaud these efforts and ask that each of us continue to ask questions, raise doubts, seek answers, and create change.

Especially as LGBT people and people of color, we have learned hard life lessons about how the humiliation of discrimination erodes our self-worth and divides people who should be loving one another and working together. When discrimination occurs within our own community, it's shocking and hard to believe, and it's tempting to downplay its seriousness. But we also know that we cannot do so. Instead, we must stand where we live, and say, "Not in our home."

And so - as LGBT people and allies fighting for everything from marriage to fair employment and safe schools - each of us must care about civil rights, our own, as well as everyone else's. Let's work together to build a new vision for our neighborhood, our community, and our City. Let's endeavor to make our values real, not just this summer, but throughout the year, and for years to come. We hope you will join this important effort.

Parts of this essay have been excerpted from a guest opinion published in the BAR on July 22, 2004.