Gay history makes it to the Smithsonian

In 1957, an astronomer working for the U.S. Army Map Service was fired for being homosexual. He pursed appeals and litigation to regain his job, but lost in an era when homosexuality was deemed to be "degeneracy" and something that made a person a security risk. That astronomer is Franklin Kameny, a Harvard Ph.D. and World War II Army veteran, who then launched a campaign to convince the U.S. Civil Service Commission to lift its ban on homosexuals in government service, a ban that was not lifted until 1975. In the meantime, Kameny became one of the most important gay civil rights leaders in the country, founding the Mattachine Society, an early gay activism group, and helping found the Gay Rights National Lobby, now known as the Human Rights Campaign (HRC). He was one of the leaders in lobbying the American Psychological Association to remove homosexuality as a "mental illness" and the American Bar Association in establishing legal rights for homosexuals.

Last year, Dr. Kameny, who is now in his 90s, contributed his half century's worth of files and memorabilia on the struggle for gay civil rights to the National Museum of American History at the Smithsonian Institution and to the Library of Congress.

This morning, my RSS feed picked up a story from The Advocate announcing a new exhibition from the Frank Kameny Collection on display at the Smithsonian through the end of October. So, this afternoon, I decided to wander over to the Smithsonian to see the exhibit. And, I was disappointed.



The "exhibit" consisted of just two protest posters and three buttons. But, I suppose I should be happy that there is this much on display at the Smithsonian where thousands of tourists could see the words and maybe, just maybe, give some thought to the matter.

In another part of the museum, I ran across what was marked as a panel in the AIDS Memorial Quilt. Unfortunately, the display did little to convey the enormous emotional impact—or purpose—of the Quilt. I don't know how many of you have ever seen portions of the quilt, but usually when I see it, panels are laid out in a way that entirely covers the floor of a gymnasium or convention center. Each panel was made by the family and friends of a victim of HIV, and offers a memorial to that person and his (or her) life and interests.

While at the museum, I had to visit the men's room. Interestingly, I was very self-conscious as to how wide my feet were apart in the stall, and then when someone came in and sat in the next stall, I became very concerned about not moving my toes—I'd changed into a pair of Birkenstocks before going to the museum, so they were very visible. Odd how current events have an impact on us, even in a museum with an exhibit on gay rights.

While I was in the neighborhood, I thought it would be comforting to visit a certain exhibit of those fundamental documents that provide our civil rights in this country, the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution of the United States, on display in very carefully constructed and controlled cases at the National Archives. They are getting very faded these days, especially the Declaration, but we all still know what they say and we have plenty of reproductions around. Nevertheless, it's always good to see the real thing.