In the darkness of early morning, my friends arrived at my door, one by
one. We piled into our van and my
husband drove us downtown; he was “aiding and abetting” one friend said. Arriving at our destination we climbed out
and stood on the sidewalk together, heads bowed in prayer—four nicely dressed
women all over the age of 60 preparing to break the law.
Once inside we joined the others.
Most of them were strangers to us.
Names were checked off and black shirts were handed out. Once we had all arrived we were broken into
three groups. I was separated from my
friends and put into one of the smaller groups, probably because the organizer
knew my name. There were others who
would not be arrested but had other jobs.
When we were ready we walked outside, bunching up on the sidewalk as we
waited. Having left our coats behind we
shivered in the cool damp air, partially from the temperature but also in
nervousness. Given the signal we began
to walk toward the Statehouse quietly.
Once we entered we were to act like a college group of staff and
students visiting their state capitol.
Quickly, but casually, we climbed the marble staircase to the fourth
floor. Not many people were there yet at
that early hour. Once we all reached the top,
we filed past the young security guard at the entrance to the Senate
gallery. However, instead of walking
around to the gallery, we turned and quickly made our way down the stairs to the
Senate Chambers. We separated into our
groups then pulled on our shirts which said “Add the 4 Words.” We got into position, blocking the three
entrances to the Senate Chambers, our hands over our mouths symbolizing
how we had been silenced. We had no
intention of moving.
Why did we do this? For eight
years the Idaho legislature has refused to hear a bill to add the words “sexual
orientation” and “gender identity” to the Idaho Human Rights Act. The Republican leadership won’t even hold a
public hearing. They don’t want to hear
how LGBT people have suffered discrimination—fired from jobs, denied housing and public accommodation. People have
been bullied, beat up, and have committed suicide. Other methods have been tried but nothing has
moved them. A former state senator, and the first openly gay one, decided that it was time to try civil disobedience to get
media attention on the issue. She
invited individuals to join her and gradually the word quietly spread.
Why did I do it? Somebody at
church asked me why I am so passionate about this issue when I am not gay
myself. I told her that I believe that
everybody should be treated equally and that nobody should be treated badly
because of who they are. God loves
all. I said that as a Christian, a
follower of Jesus, I believe I need to stand up for justice. I learned about this action early in the
planning stages and invited others, mostly fellow church members who I thought
might be interested. I had never been
arrested before so I had to give careful thought to whether or not I was
prepared to do this.
So I stood with eight others, blocking one of the back entrances to the
Senate Chambers. We faced a hallway and
the door to the office of the Senate Pro Tem.
People scurried by and tried to ignore us. They used alternate doors. Our group had two videographers who almost
constantly filmed us to document everything.
At times it got a bit boring. A
secretary attempted to enter the chambers so the gal next to me and I linked
arms and stepped together to block her way.
Our leader and a legal observer came by periodically to update us and
encourage us. Members of the media
walked by, snapping photos or filming us.
Later, we learned that the larger group that stood in front of the main
Senate Chambers entrance had a constant audience of media watching and
recording them—a bit more stressful for them.
Through all of this we stood silently with hands over our mouths,
sometimes changing hands in unison as one arm tired. My back began to really hurt after 2 hours so
I was given a chair. Finally, after
about 2 ½ hours the Senate Republican leaders had had enough of us.
The Senate Pro Tem, state troopers, and a couple of others walked up to
each group and gave us a 5-minute warning.
I didn't look carefully since we were told to avoid eye contact. We had each undergone a 2-hour training to
learn how to behave non-violently. We
were told that we were preventing them from doing the people’s business and we
were being irresponsible. I wanted to
yell that they needed to actually do the people’s business and add the words;
they were being irresponsible. But, of
course, I remained silent.
We stood in place, hands over our mouths, and we were updated as the largest
group was arrested. One of our
videographers then told us to walk through the chamber and stand with our
leader at the main door. Wow, there was
a lot of media. Being short, I ended up
in the front row, and was one of the first of this bunch arrested. A trooper asked if I was willing to leave the
premises. I shook my head no. He told me I was under arrest. They walked us, five at a time, through the
hall and up the stairs, many eyes and cameras upon us. Once upstairs we were told to stand against a
wall and wait. Gradually, a few at a
time, we were led into a large room where the rest of our group waited. We were frisked by a female officer and then
allowed to sit or stand where we wanted.
We still had our hands over our mouths.
I must state that all of the city police officers and state troopers
were very polite and professional. I
have no complaints about them. Once we
were all in the room we were told that we would not be taken to jail. Instead the state police brought in two
laptops and we stood in line to get our citations. Once that happened we were allowed to
leave. We had been told that we were
welcome to return to the building that day if we took off our shirts (or turned
them inside out) and didn’t break the law again.
There were 44 of us arrested on a charge of trespassing, a misdemeanor. Ten lawyers had been recruited to work for us
pro bono. At this point legal
discussions continue among the group while prosecutors decide what to do with
us. The maximum penalty is 6 months in
jail or a $1,000 fine. Nobody thinks
they’ll give us the maximum but we really don’t know how we’ll be treated. A fund has been set up to pay our fines.
Am I sorry I did it? No. We got national and international media
attention which is giving a new focus on Idaho.
Hopefully it is making at least a few legislators squirm. But I am not naive enough to think that the
law will change soon. Just 2 days after
our arrest, a bill that legalizes discrimination based on religious grounds was
introduced into a House committee.
Despite the presence of 400-500 people, and overwhelming testimony
against it (the only testimony for it was from a married couple with a far
right religious organization that is promoting the bill) the committee voted to
send it to the House floor for amendment.
Just 2 days ago another group with 65 people walked through the
Statehouse in black shirts and hands covering their mouths—no arrests this
time. We will not let them ignore us anymore. We will not go away. This is about justice.
