(This is an account by my wife, Leslie, of what we experienced at NOM-Rhode Island’s pro-marriage rally in Providence this past Sunday. The second photo in this article shows Leslie facing down a group of gay “marriage” fascists who were yelling at our children.–PW)
[UPDATE: You can see NOM's video showing some of what Leslie describes here.]
Did you ever see that scene in one of the Narnia movies, where a battle is about to start and preparations are being made – when off in the distance there is a faint chanting and drumming? It grows louder and louder, till off in the distance the enemy is spotted. It’s terrifying. I’m not joking, the same thing happened to us Sunday in Rhode Island at the state Capitol. You see, Peter and I got this great idea to go a Rhode Island rally and support our counterparts in the defense of traditional marriage and visit our friends the Brown Family who would also be there. How was I to know that simply attending a “permitted” event (i.e., we had a permit) to show our support for traditional marriage would end with my family having to be escorted to our minivan by the police for our own protection.
You see, instead of wild enchanted animals drumming and preparing for battle, it was homosexuals in red shirts (and red-faced) with bullhorns and rocks, waving rainbow umbrellas. At least that is all I could see at first . . . just wave after wave of red shirts and rainbow umbrellas. It would have been comical if they were not all chanting and stomping their feet in unison coming around the capitol building toward us. They were actually organized so that they would stand still as a group (about 400 it seemed to me), then march forward in unison toward our group. Pause, chant, march…pause, chant, march. I was wise enough not to stare, but I will not forget the images of my oldest children: Isaac, Katharine & Elizabeth, clutching their friends’ hands and holding each other, mouths agape, looking quite terrified at the incoming crowd. They kept asking “who are they?”, “why do they have a rainbow flag?”, “are they coming here?”, “where’s Frannie?” I have never seen them so scared and I’m rather mad at myself for having put them there. I had no idea the worst was still to come.
The red gays, as I will call them, tromped from their “permitted” area – i.e. the area they had a permit to congregate at the front of the Capitol Building–down a side street about 500 feet away from us at the back of the building. I didn’t realize anything was happening until the speaker asked that we focus on our rally and not spectate. The street with the protesters was parallel to where we were standing and we could watch them chant tremendously loud with bullhorns, stomp, and wave their umbrellas (I happen to own one of these umbrellas that I now want to chuck) all the way down to our street level. Having little children I tend to stand near the back of all public gatherings. Suddenly three squad cars pulled onto the grass behind me and the children. The protesters eventually gathered about 100 feet behind us. Between us and them were the 3 police cars, hastily parked. The incoming protesters gathered at the end of this grassy area near the street and, though upset that they were permitted to gather so close and interrupt our rally (Jennifer Rorback Morse was giving a talk about adoption), I thought surely they would not come any closer. I was used to CT, where the police forcefully keep each rally on their side of the capitol. Not so in rough and tumble RI.
Their chanting (“take your hate out of our state” and vulgarities I have mentally blocked) and the marching in unison started again and each time I peered in back of me (again, we were on the fringe), they were closer. As I reflect now, I realize that their actions were intended to scare and intimidate us. They were not trying to move public opinion, convince legislators or explore the issues. They were angry and were trying to punish and provoke us. It worked; I was scared out of my mind. My heart raced and I tried to stay strong for the children, the speakers and other peaceful gatherers. I couldn’t understand, and still don’t, why the police and their “leaders” permitted what happened next.
My children were buzzing with anxiety (of course Frannie and Rose, my toddlers, were constantly running away). A handsomely dressed couple, sans children, asked me if “these girls” were mine. I said yes, and they informed me that they left their children home. “Gee THANKS”, I thought. A little note about the Rhode Island attendees . . . they were subdued, older, hunkered, weathered, it seemed – with few children present. The Browns and I were from out-of-state and obviously didn’t know what they knew about RI protests and the permissiveness of the Capitol Police. In retrospect, it should have made more of an impression and raised a red flag for me.
My children were not completely afraid because Peter and I were with them so they knew they would be protected. But some of our children began to whimper as the protesters moved closer. It was at this point, about 30 feet away, that my children got a good look at the face of hate. I periodically looked back over my shoulder only to be treated to sneers and chants. I averted my eyes from the signs, especially the ones that were held close to genitals with large black arrows saying something about “dirty”. I’m not exaggerating, they were vulgar and disgusting. Elizabeth and Katharine, whom I’ve taken so much care to teach to read, got an eyeful, I’m sure. The chanting continued and we could no longer hear the speakers. Isaac, my six year old boy, frighteningly asked me if they were going to “get us”. I told him to rest assured that the police would protect us. But oh Dear God, what was happening, I do not know, because the police did NOT protect us.
I have a stubborn streak when it comes to democracy and standing up for the right to petition the government, vote, speak, and peacefully assemble. I don’t back down from a fight, but it was at that point that I started to look for a way to exit. I gathered my bewildered and frightened children to the double stroller. Grabbed my giant purse/diaper bag and looked around. To my horror, it was at that point that the police completely failed. Our small group of pro-marriage attendees was surrounded on every side by the protesters. And, I’m not speaking “metaphorically” surrounded. I mean that they formed a tight circle with a perimeter about 3 feet from where I was standing. We could not leave. Rosie, my 3 year old, informed me at that point that she REALLY had to use the potty. It increased my urgency to find an escape. (Poor little Rosie, we never did get her to the potty till we got home later that evening.)
At that point my husband arrived. I had dispatched him earlier when I heard a scuffle over the microphone and Brian Brown asking the police to remove the protesters – from the podium! Apparently there were lesbians making-out at the base of the podium, with 3 other protesters wrestling for space at the podium with Brian. Peter was yelling to the police to do something. They refused and informed Peter that the protesters “had a right to be there”. Unbelievable. Now, Peter and I don’t “make out” in front of the children. I’m not sure my children have ever seen people getting-it-on, so to speak. Until now. My heart is sinking as I type this. Maybe I should have been more libertine with the physical acts they saw on TV or at parties, so they would not have been so shocked. But really? I honestly believe those protesters thought it was their duty to “educate” my children in such a manner. It is an example of how this will not stop at gay “marriage”. Their intention is to forcibly change all aspects of our culture, even if it means educating our children for us.
My friends. I enjoy a good debate. I think rallies and protests are a wonderful part of the democratic process. But nobody has a right to interrupt our right to peacefully gather and petition the government. We had a permit, we followed their rules. Using tactics to scare and intimidate is NOT democracy. . . it’s hate, it’s bigotry, it’s fascism. For all their talk about “love”, the truth was put on display yesterday. Gay “marriage” is not about love – it is a selfish disorder, it is love without God, focused on adult desires and forceful acceptance. It has never been about true love . . . sacrificial love. Otherwise they would not have ambushed our rally and physically taken over the microphone yesterday using the tactics of intimidation and fear. I’m sure many people would say “we got what we deserved” and take delight in my family’s fear. But remember – the gay protesters were the ones who ambushed our gathering. If the roles were reversed, the media would raise a storm of protest. And demands of repudiation would be issued, and probably received. Others (including myself at this point) would question the wisdom of participating in such a rally. But peacefully petitioning the government is a worthy fight. At this point in history, our fight may just be for the right to simply congregate in public. A fight to retain a place in the public square–something that was so forcefully taken from us yesterday, with the complicity of the police.
I am so proud of Brian and the other speakers. I remember quotes from Chesterton and William Wilberforce being loudly expounded as they wrestled with the protesters at the microphone. It gave me courage. Next, the protesters continued their procession around our group to the back of our podium. Of course, this was all carefully orchestrated by their “handlers”. Their leaders were instructing them when to move, what to chant, where to go. They proceeded to a spot directly behind the podium (in the blazing sun) and stood mocking us (and America) with flags and signs on the granite stairs leading up to the Capitol. I was somewhat relieved because this actually made the speakers easier to hear and nobody was in my family’s personal space.
Each speaker was shaken. I could barely see them but their voices periodically squeaked or shook. I admire their bravery greatly, and they gave some pretty excellent and inspired speeches. The children took up a game of backward duck-duck-goose and things were looking up. We were instructed to pray heartily for the protesters, remember where we came from and who we were, and not to react with violence if confronted. Remember hundreds of protesters were poised above us on the stairs, glaring at us like birds-of-prey. That is not to say they were quiet, they were quite loud and obnoxious reacting to the speeches. Though they did get quieter during the actual praying.
I was apprehensive at the time of dismissal. How was this going to end? Rather dramatically it turns out. As Brian gave the signal to disperse, the protesters started to sing “Hey, Hey, Hey – Good bye!”. Gladly, other music was played over our sound system. The crowds were breaking up but my children were playing so sweetly with the Browns. And I wanted to make the re-connect and stay. Unfortunately for us, a small band of protesters that earlier stormed the microphone was still “hopped up” on hate. Looking for a little more action they turned to my little children. It was Sue [Brown] who heard them say, as they walked toward them . . . “Hey, don’t let your parents teach you to be haters.”
Sue leapt like a cougar across the grass separating the children and them. She told them to mess with a mother, if they wanted action. I jumped in right away (in my mind) and told them they were asking for trouble, and to “beat it” – poor choice of words, I know. That they were really going to “get it” now. It was lame. This was all very loud and the police . . . well, I realize now, just fancied themselves as “observers”- kind of like the UN. They had no intention of protecting or preventing harm.
The protesters refused to retreat and more red shirts showed up. My little Frannie and Rose kept coming to my knees, and Max to Sue’s. Did I tell you that Sue is about 6 months pregnant and had 6 children there herself? Anyway, statements such as “I’ll make your children gay” and “what about me, I used to be a boy too” were spat at us. I tried to pull Sue away because it was obviously not going to end well, and honestly, these protesters looked like they were about to pass out (remember, they had been in the sun). I exclaimed to the police that they were “attacking” my children. Which, in addition to approaching them on foot – if you accost me in front of my children, you’re attacking my children. Perhaps a poor word choice, but I was scared. Then, the one red shirt who was actually trying to convince the others to leave – turned on me and started shouting that I was a “FREAKIN LIAR!!!!!” A “LIAR” she kept yelling and pointing at me. I ran up and said, “are you going to attack me! Come and get me!” and nearly chest-bumped her companion. I think that is when the photographer for the local newspaper captured the moment for posterity. Sigh.
At this point the kids were staring and people were yelling, in one motion I swirled and grabbed Sue then I swung to the other side of my friends and family and started praying at the top of my lungs. Now, I had recently re-read a magazine article about Bobby Jindal’s first hand account of an exorcism. In his panic, he started yelling “Hail Mary’s” from the corner of the exorcism room because that is the only thing he could remember. And Our Mother in Heaven is quite powerful. So in my apparent panic and in an effort to distract the children from the ensuing madness – I started yelling Hail Mary’s, interspersed with prayers for our opponents who had “obviously suffered some childhood trauma that made them gay” and for the other attendees including the police. It’s one of those slow-motion moments. I’m really dumbfounded, because I’m not a big public prayer or a leader in spiritual matters. Must have been the Holy Spirit, and it was great.
Things started to break up and the police stood between us and them. We asked the police to discourage the protesters from yelling to my kids that they were going to “abduct them and make them gay”, etc. In response we were told to “move our kids”. To where!?!
I was actually concerned about the long walk back to the car – we were about 5 minutes away and at one point had to walk through a train station. After re-connecting with the Browns for a few minutes we realized we should go. Sue and I decided that it would probably be unsafe for them to give us a tour of their Marriage Bus (I did see crowds around it as we were driving away). I asked for a police escort to our van. A hefty officer and a seminarian friend escorted us away from the Capitol to the street. Where, at that point, the officer saw a buddy in a car and poignantly abandoned us. So, we slowly made it back to our car with our seminarian friend. I checked the van over, as I regularly do for key marks, loaded the children, and split. I drove around the Capitol to check on the Browns, who actually had to “break down” all the sound equipment and travel on the marriage bus to their hotel. I lay in bed that night whispering prayers for them because I couldn’t get out of RI fast enough. I hope they are safe. On the way home we debriefed the children. They seem high-spirited, but I have the sort of kids that like to mull it over. They all said that was “crazy”. Yes, indeed. I expect them to talk more about it in the upcoming weeks and months. And the Lord knows, they will have something to “remember when” with the Brown children when they get older.
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