Connecting To Someone New 

It was 4:45 pm. I was leaning against the brick wall belonging to Fugazi’s Deli. With a cigarette hanging out of my mouth, I aimlessly waited for the sun to set. My days were marked by this, where I would smoke for a bit, watch the sun set, then abandon my post to go bum around Stonewall until I woke up God knows where. It would have been nice to wake up with friends, maybe family, but I didn’t try particularly hard to talk to the people there. All I was focused on was making myself stop thinking about my problems for a while. 

The sun had started to set. I shifted my position against the wall and locked eyes with the blazing star, breathing deeply while it slowly dipped over the horizon. During my smoke, the sun was just about finished setting and the street lights flickered to life. I tossed the cigarette to the side and ground it out with my foot, shoving my hands into my pockets and hurriedly starting to the bar. 

“Hey, Jude! Wait up!” A familiar voice called from behind me. Internally, I groaned. 

I turned around, faking a smile. “Hey, Dante!” I bit my tongue to keep down any lingering sarcastic remarks. Dante was my age, my height, lived near me, and hung out at the same bar as me. Despite all those things, he and I had so many differences that it was impossible to be his friend. He was righteous, self-centered, and acted like the entire world was required to bend over at his feet. I hated him more than I hated anyone in the world. And unluckily for me, he never seemed to leave me alone. 

“Where are you going, man?” Dante asked with a joking laugh. That was another thing I hated about him, how he was constantly so airheaded.

“Where do you think?” I replied coldly. 

“Well, you can’t be going to Stonewall…” Dante tapped his chin thoughtfully.

“What do you mean?” I snickered. I couldn’t help it, it was such a stupid comment to make. Dante should’ve known that I was at Stonewall nearly every night, unless he really was that self-absorbed that he didn’t notice me hanging around. 

Dante’s dorky smile faded, “You haven’t heard?” he tilted his head.

“Heard about what? Don’t be playing games with me,” I sighed. “What happened?”

“Oh. Oh, man..” Dante laughed, but not his usual chipper one. It was a nervous laugh, the kind your mom does before telling you your dog died. “There was a raid,” He dropped his hand to his side, “Cops. They raided the bar, it was a really big thing.” 

“Oh.” I muttered under my breath. It made sense that I wouldn’t have heard about it. Crimes against gay people were never reported. You only heard about them if you talked to other gay people, which I did not. There was a stinging feeling that lingered with that thought, one I couldn’t put my finger on. It reeked of self-hatred. 

“Yeah, Lots of people got arrested. I mean, it’s still open tonight, but I would stay safe, y’know? We don’t know what’ll happen.” He shrugged, kicking the ground. 

“The one day I decided not to go...” I complained.

“Aww, I’m sorry,” Dante offered sympathetically, “Betty was asking about you, though… asked if you found yourself a suitor and ran off with him!”  he cackled.

“Shut up,” I hissed, cheeks flaring a strong shade of red, “Whatever. I’ll see you there,” I swiftly turned on my heel and picked up my brisk pace to go to Stonewall despite Dante’s warning. To my dismay, he ended up trailing behind me, eagerly hopping every few steps. It was as if being alive provided enough joy for him that it was just oozing out of his ears. I grumbled at his excitement. 

When we reached the bar, my mouth fell open in awe. “Holy–They tore it apart!” I exclaimed. I was used to the bar being clean and well kept. Today, though, glass shards littered the streets and a sense of dread hung in the air. 

“Alcohol raid,” Dante sucked in a breath, shoving his hands deep into his pockets awkwardly. I wondered if he had been here the night before, but I didn’t press him. 

A part of me was tempted to turn around and head back home. I wanted to pretend none of this had happened, but another part of me, a more vulnerable one, kept me standing in place. I knew that whether I liked it or not, this bar was a part of me—A part of my identity—And I had an obligation to stand here and fight for it. 

“You ready?” Dante asked. I didn’t respond. I just slipped into the bar quietly and observed the scene.

“Gay power!”

“We shall overcome!” 

Shouting filled my ears, chants of people who were tired of our spaces being taken away. It was empowering, being around all of these people who loved the same way I loved. The only issue with all of the commotion was that I had no idea who any of the people I was bumping into were. Vaguely familiar strangers mingled with actual strangers, people who showed up out of thin air to support us. I fumbled out measly apologies while I shoved and bumped my way through a crowd of people motivated by decades of mistreatment to fight for an equal life. It was a miracle when I finally laid eyes on some sort of solace.

“Betty!” I called out, frantically finding my way to the back of the bar where the older woman was sitting peacefully.

Betty was staring at the wooden countertop of the bar, perplexed. She looked up when I shouted her name and smiled warmly at me. She was an older woman. Her gray streaked hair was tied back into a loose ponytail that hung low on her back, and she shifted in her seat so she could openly face me. Along with Dante and me, she was one of the regulars at the bar.

“Hey there, stranger!” She grinned. She seemed content, but I saw in her eyes that something was wrong. 

“Hi, Betty. It’s really good to see you,” I pulled out a stool and took a seat, leaning over the counter, “What’s wrong?” I was never one to stall conversations with stupid small talk. I much preferred to get straight to the point. 

Betty sighed, “Just worried. I feel like something’s gonna happen, the way everybody’s yelling,” She waved her hand absently, “It’s good to see you too, Jude.” The corners of her eyes crinkled while she smiled sadly, “Are you with Dante?”

“Why would you assume that I’d be with Dante?” I replied quickly, face heating up from a surprise attack of embarrassment. 

She shrugged, “Just a gut feeling. Y’know, the two of you might really get along better if you started finding out what you have in common.” She stared at the wall, and not at me.

“I don’t want to get along with him,” I replied sourly. 

Betty sighed and placed a comforting, knowing, hand on top of mine, “He doesn’t hate you, y’know,” She counseled wisely. 

I just grunted in response. What was going on here seemed so much bigger than my strained relationship with Dante. I wished she would focus on the matter at hand. Which, speaking of, seemed to be growing in intensity. I had grown so lost in thought that the noise outside had been drowned out. I looked over my shoulder and saw small crowds of people outside, shouting, dancing, throwing things. I couldn’t tell if the situation was angry or joyous. Either way, I still got up from my chair and slowly drifted to see what was going on, Betty trailing behind me with a solemn expression on her face. 

When we got outside, I unluckily met up with Dante. I opened my mouth to ask what happened, but right when I did something soared past my head and into a wall.

“Tear gas!” Dante shouted, grabbing my shoulder with an iron grip, “Get down, now!” he screamed. 

I followed his instruction, ducking low just as a fine mist coated the group. My eyes burned from the chemicals, watering. Fat tears rolled down my cheeks and onto the ground, even though I wasn’t sad. 

“What?” I sputtered out through coughs, “What’s happening!?” I asked over the cacophony of noise. I meant to ask sooner, before I was interrupted. 

“Someone filed a noise complaint,” Dante explained, followed by a long string of words I won’t repeat here, “The cops are here, and they’re mad as a hornet!” He explained in a rushed panic. 

“That’s terrible!” I exclaimed. Something boiled in my stomach, something hot and fiery and dangerous, “We have to fight back!”

Dante smiled weakly, “I’m glad I’m not the only person who thinks that. Tons of people already are,” He jabbed his head sideways, gesturing to a group of people shouting and throwing things at cops. Bricks, bottles, and pennies all soared through the air followed by an ear deafening chorus of yelling. 

Dante cried out from the ground. He pulled himself up slowly, taking his time and wincing whenever a wave of pain traveled through him. After brushing off his vest, he held a kind hand out to me. “C’mon,” He offered, “Let’s start embracing our differences and work towards a common goal, eh?”

I smiled and took his hand. “You’re right, for once,” I chuckled dryly. I looked around at my feet and picked up two rocks from the pavement, handing one to him while I clutched the other. 

Then we joined the crowd. 

The riot went on for a long, long time. 

In a way, it’s still continuing to this day. I don’t believe in violence, but at the time I felt that it was necessary. It wasn’t unwarranted; homophobes had been stomping and beating on us at Stonewall for years before it all climaxed. We were just fighting back. Now, when Dante and I are made aware of an injustice in our community, we react to it in a more peaceful manner. I guess I should’ve listened to Betty sooner. She would’ve gotten a real kick out of seeing Dante and me complementing each other like peanut butter and jelly. 

Of course, Dante and I still don’t always get along perfectly. But I’m glad that we finally put aside our grievances and started working together to help our community instead of only ourselves. It feels rewarding that while I work and fight for acceptance from others, I’ve finally learned to accept myself.