Like everyone else, I've seen Attorney General Lynch's statement and press conference regarding the Justice Department's decision to sue North Carolina over HB2. And like a lot of people, I was incredibly happy to see not only that the government is stepping in, but that they're doing it on Title VII grounds. As an employment attorney and a trans person, I rely a lot on precedent, and up until now Title VII's coverage of trans people has been tenuous at best: mostly theory, a thumbs up from the EEOC, and a circuit court in Ohio of all places. It was also really heartening to hear someone in a position of authority stand up for my friends and I that way. After weeks and months of being accused of all sorts of perversions and crimes, that was a nice change.
But her statement, lovely as it was, is not our "I have a dream" moment.
First, let's start with something most people have forgotten: Dr. King's speech wasn't even the enormous moment at the time that it later became. While the March on Washington was a huge event, and his speech was well-received that day, contemporary records make little mention of it. It was hardly Dr. King's first big speech, and white folks by and large weren't paying that much attention to that particular march, so it certainly wasn't a pivotal moment at the time. Watershed moments are almost never recognized at the time, but are always viewed through the lens of history.
We have no idea what impact, if any, Lynch's remarks will have in the grand scheme of things. My guess is that her statement will be consigned to the dustbins of history even if this case is remembered. Can you name the lawyers who argued Brown v. Board of Education? Can you quote Bobby Kennedy about James Meredith attending the University of Mississippi? At the time, I'm sure some people could. I'm sure some people, particularly activists and people who were generally paying attention to the issues, thought many of the statements or speeches were important that we have since forgotten.
But more importantly: Regardless of what speech is eventually remembered as our watershed, big deal, no-turning-back moment, it needs to come from a trans person, not a perfectly nice cisgender civil servant.
Part of what makes the "I Have a Dream" speech an iconic moment is that it came from a Black man, surrounded by other Black leaders, at a march of (mostly) Black people in support of (mostly) Black rights. Had a white ally made the same speech -- or had Dr. King made that speech about another group, for example the Chicano rights movement a few years later or even gay rights -- it would not have had nearly the same significance. There were allies at that march, just as there have been allies in every civil rights battle throughout history. There were men who spoke up for women's suffrage. There were white people who fought for passage of civil rights laws and protested police brutality against peaceful black protests. There were able-bodied people who fought for passage of the ADA.
There have always been allies -- and we need them. Particularly when a disadvantaged group has been kept out of halls of power through long-standing barriers and prejudices, the only way we can get things done is with allies in positions of power. Attorney General Lynch is a fantastic example: there is not a trans Attorney General. There never has been. There may never be. While trans people can march, can make noise, can shame ignorant and duplicitous politicians on social media, and can bring lawsuits on our own behalf -- as a few have in North Carolina -- we can't bring suit by the entire USDOJ. None of us are in a position to do that. We need someone with the power and authority to get particular things done who understands our struggle and will fight for our rights and our ability to exist. We can't pass laws by ourselves; we need allies in legislatures. We can't raise awareness in a vacuum; we need allies in the media (or a lot of friends on Facebook). We need people who understand what's at stake and will fight with us.
But the big moments of victory do not belong to them.
Women's suffrage was not about Frederick Douglass or James Mott. They were an integral part of the process, but the moment of victory did not belong to them. The 1963 March on Washington, while attended by many white people and performers, was not about them. There's a reason that the photographs from last June 26 are of gay couples tenderly embracing and racing to get married, not of straight people who held signs. What makes a big moment big, in the context of a rights movement, is its potential to change the game and its significance within and without the community in the midst of battle. Endorsements from high-profile or high-powered allies are a great shot in the arm, but they're not The Moment.
We need to create our moment for ourselves.