Light & Joy, Life & Flags

Reflecting on Pride Day on the Hill at the Tennessee Capitol

Late-afternoon light cuts through the space outside the House chamber, illuminating the colors of a rainbow flag held by young hands in one moment, the face of a grandmother joining their voice with others in a chant of “no hate in our state!” the next.  The light moves again, and now cascades across a group of dozens holding flags of many hues, t-shirts with many rainbows, and highlighting the broad spectrum of people who have come from around the state to demonstrate the necessity and power a simple flag can signal.  And while one can readily hear the resoluteness, the determination, in the chanting of those gathered, the many smiles, hugs, and conversations that ebb and flow throughout the gathering also demonstrate the joy and community those gathered find in each other as they come together to speak out for themselves, their friends, and family, and push back against another bill meant to keep LGBTQIA+ people—and specifically, LGBTQIA+ youth—from finding, or merely seeing signal of, safe space or caring ally.

Such signals are life-preserving.  Old or young, queer (a word I use here in its new coinage and to signal the negative power it still can contain) identity comes with the necessity of scanning one’s environment for even the smallest sign of danger or safety.  As with so many non-majority communities, it’s a safety check that never really ends.  Given just how many things can evoke a signal response of “Danger!,” the positive power of even the smallest of rainbow stickers on the back of a computer monitor, or a name tag, or a clip board, cannot be overstated.  Multiply that effect manifold within those spaces that have become weaponized and contested—sports fields, restrooms, and yes, schools and classrooms.  For our young folks—those still finding their balance and strength of self; those still in the earliest phases, as it were, of becoming—the safe space signaled by a pride flag, or the affirmation that Black Lives Matter, may be that which offers lifeline and refuge between this moment and the next.

It is worth noting that none of this takes away from whatever one feels the flag of the United States needs to signify. While that could stand to have its own discussion, the point here is that to display any of the flags banned by the proposed HB1605/SB1722 legislation does nothing to the meaning(s) one understands to inhere in the others. Indeed, the part of the code that the proposed bill seeks to modify seems to get this.  As currently written, it doesn’t prohibit other types of flags from display, and even the Tennessee Dept of Education guidance on flag observance and care only describes the times & occasions, the position & manner, for the US flag. One might reasonably infer from this that other flags, whatever they happen to be—flags for a Model UN event, a school flag, and so on—are not seen as causing inherent damage or slight to the US flag, or the Tennessee one, for that matter.  To display something in addition to those is only to offer a nod of recognition to those who might benefit from the welcome offered by such signs —be they exchange students far from home, LGBTQIA+ teens, or simply those feeling isolated or disconnected from community in which they see themselves.  All this only underscores the intentionality of the more bullying aspects of the bill:  for what else can it be called when a measure leaves specific persons and communities more open to harm? When it forces into the margins those for whom any other flag might serve as symbol of resource or refuge?

When a Pride flag waves—or when many, many, of them do, like this past Monday!—it helps create the conditions for the energy, the determination, the community and joy, one could see ample evidence of in the Capitol on that sunny afternoon.  As a matter of fact, it can rightfully be said that light beamed from both without and within that day: through the windows and from all those gathered.  It seems self-evident that such ebullient, energized, life should be precisely what we want to foster and encourage for each other.  However, it is perhaps just such energy and voice that some feel needs silencing, needs tamping down.  How unfortunate—how embittered!—that is.  Happily, though, the evidence offered by the many people raising both voice and flag in the Capitol is that it’s going to take a lot more than one poorly-written, cynical, bill to quiet the joy of our communities. To quote the old adage: you ain’t seen—or heard—nothing yet!

Dahron Johnson is a 20-year resident of East Nashville & Inglewood.  She serves as the Davidson County Committee Co-Chair for the Tennessee Equality Project.  Since 2004, TEP has advocated for the equal rights of LGBTQIA+ people in Tennessee, focusing on legislative advocacy at state and municipal levels.  For the latest news and updates—and to join in their efforts!—make sure to bookmark a tab for:  https://tnep.org/blog