Moral Ambiguity is Sorta the Best
A few weeks back I started reading David Carter's Stonewall: The Riots that Sparked the Gay Revolution. The whole experience thus far as been like someone pulling a blindfold off of my eyes. My knowledge of lgbt* history was spotty at best (let's face it, it's seemingly not something that is super documented at this point in time), so it's been enlightening to say the least. I knew lgbt* folks had it rough, but I guess I never understood just how rough.
This is the sort of book I'd love to teach just because there's so much to talk about. There's a lot of grey areas, especially when discussing the actual riot itself. You had a group of people who were treated like shit (look, at this point it was legal to castrate and/or perform a lobotomy on someone for being gay, okay?) throwing flaming objects at a group of cops who were locked in the Inn. Cops, who for the record, took every opportunity to use and abuse these people.
I guess that's where it gets me. Most of the time I find myself cheering for the community and for the people who finally said enough was enough, but then every time I stop and consider what I'm reading there's this moment of "Okay, but it's not right to throw fiery objects into a building with people inside". But then again, how do feel bad for people who systematically abused a marginalized group every opportunity they had? That's a lot to ask someone, and I'm a pretty bitter person who has zero tolerance for minority abuse.
This moral conflict is like a drug for me. I get so excited and just feel the need to explode with all my feels. Ugh, such an awesome book. History is basically the best.
This is the sort of book I'd love to teach just because there's so much to talk about. There's a lot of grey areas, especially when discussing the actual riot itself. You had a group of people who were treated like shit (look, at this point it was legal to castrate and/or perform a lobotomy on someone for being gay, okay?) throwing flaming objects at a group of cops who were locked in the Inn. Cops, who for the record, took every opportunity to use and abuse these people.
I guess that's where it gets me. Most of the time I find myself cheering for the community and for the people who finally said enough was enough, but then every time I stop and consider what I'm reading there's this moment of "Okay, but it's not right to throw fiery objects into a building with people inside". But then again, how do feel bad for people who systematically abused a marginalized group every opportunity they had? That's a lot to ask someone, and I'm a pretty bitter person who has zero tolerance for minority abuse.
This moral conflict is like a drug for me. I get so excited and just feel the need to explode with all my feels. Ugh, such an awesome book. History is basically the best.