Around the time of the election, it came from all sides--protests, marches, propaganda covering every imaginable ounce of space, people, and things. Ian and I were overwhelmed in a sea of strong opinions. But it's obviously quieted down considerably.
A couple of weeks ago, Ian and I went to see Milk. At the Castro Theatre, no less, which was the primary location of the movie. It was inspiring and incredible, and difficult to believe that there was such intolerance a short time ago. Much of San Francisco is the same, and perhaps that made it all the more hard-hitting.
Tonight, just at my stop, the F train was about to hit some rocky terrain. Marches used to be common back in the fall, but now? It was a surprise.
Proposition 8 is the modern-day Prop 6 from the movie Milk. If you've seen the movie, then you might have recognized the scene I just saw....Market Street, thousands of people, signs....ready to march. They were assembling, they were demanding equality, and the police were organizing.
Of course when I mention the police, the portrayal in Milk has long since been abandoned, and I do admire their tolerance in this city--of all the craziness in the streets, all that could be a mob or out of hand, but somehow never makes it that far. The police are forgiving here, and understand what makes the city hum.
If anything, SF is the city of love love love. And the protesting is out of love or for the encouragement of love. Or the right to love.
Oh the rants when I get home. How much has changed since the times of Harvey Milk, and how little.
I've never been politically prepossessed, but if any city could change me, if any cause could move me, it exists here.
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