The massive assault by terrorists on Sept. 11 on the World Trade Center ( WTC ) in New York City and the Pentagon in Washington, D.C., has affected gay and lesbian Americans as it has their fellow countrymen. We will no doubt hear more of the personal tragedies and heroism as time allows those stories to become known and told. But there also are immediate effects as well as fears for the future.
The Lambda Legal Defense and Education Fund is headquartered at 120 Wall Street in the financial district. And the American Foundation for AIDS Research ( amfAR ) has offices in the same building. It is a half-mile or so from what used to be the WTC complex.
That building was evacuated after the second plane hit but before either structure collapsed. "Our lobby was full of that terrible smoke, dust, and particles from the buildings," said Peg Byron, communications director for Lambda. "Here was this incredibly beautiful day, and we walked outside and it was like winter. It was dark, the air was heavy with this stuff."
Byron spoke of walking along the east side of Manhattan toward her home to Chelsea. Most people were trying to cover their nose and mouth with shirts to screen out the noxious particles. She was under the elevated FDR Drive and did not see the towers collapse, but colleagues walking home across the Brooklyn Bridge saw the horrific spectacle.
Activist attorney Bill Dobbs lives just below Greenwich Village in SoHo, about 15 blocks from the WTC. "A neighbor told me that the second tower had collapsed. That just seemed beyond comprehension." He grabbed his bike about 10:30 that morning and peddled down toward City Hall.
"There wasn't panic, but incredulity on the streets down there," said Dobbs. "My most vivid memory is of the silt and sediment" that filled the air. "It was fine in texture, very uniform, light beige in color. All I could think of was cremated remains. It's inches deep on the streets down there."
He grabbed a few sheets of paper that were strewn everywhere. One carried an address of the 99th floor of the WTC, about a quarter mile up in the air. "It had made its way down from a place that no longer exists."
That evening, walking around Chelsea, the streets were half deserted, cars and taxis sparse, gay bars stopped playing music videos, tuned to news coverage and patrons sat rapt, said Byron. She saw "yellow school buses lined up for medical triage," to carry the wounded to medical facilities, but unfortunately there were few survivors to use them. Above all, there was the unnatural calm.
The police set up checkpoints restricting entry to SoHo that night, said Dobbs. They required a photo ID with an address south of the checkpoints in order to let people through.
This reporter was glued to the television screen and saw the second plane hit the WTC as it happened. When news of the hit on the Pentagon came over the airwaves, he moved two feet to the right of this computer and saw the smoke rising from behind the White House, six blocks away behind a screen of trees.
Soon the streets were filled with people streaming out of Washington's business district as the city shut down. Even the ubiquitous Starbucks closed. The afternoon was eerily quiet, frequently punctuated by the wail of sirens as police and medical vehicles raced one way or the other.
The lull continued into the beautiful late summer evening as normally boisterous Dupont Circle was quieter than a beach deserted August night. One friend was ready to nuke Afghanistan, if that proved to be the home base of the terrorists.
Al-Fatiha, the gay Muslim organization, was one of the few gay organizations to issue a news release on the incident. Founder Faisal Alam joined others "to mourn the loss of life and condemn this tragedy." He fears that violence will be directed against Arab Americans, much as it was when the federal building was bombed in Oklahoma City and initial speculation laid it to the hands of Arab extremists. But the act proved to be that of a native-born WASP.
One must remember that Muslims have come to this country for the same variety of reasons as other groups, including fleeing from fundamentalist sects of their own religious tradition.
An immediate call went out for blood donations. But all gay men are ineligible to make blood donations under current screening policy, regardless of their HIV status or sexual monogamy. "I was in tears when I heard the call go out," said Vermonter Steve Swayne. "I would donate blood in a heartbeat."
Bryon worries that some gays and lesbians who lost their partners in the tragedy will face discrimination in trying to collect on insurance policies or remain in their residence. "How will gay people be included?" she wonders.
Dobbs frets about how American will respond to the tragedy. Can it do so "without eviscerating civil liberties?" Comparisons with the attack on Pearl Harbor also raise the specter of tens of thousands of Japanese Americans being hauled off to internment camps created in Wyoming and other isolated areas.
During the "red" crackdown of the McCarthy era of the 1950s, gays were among those singled out for persecution. Byron is hoping that this time there will be a more thoughtful approach, "there will be an inclination to move away from petty hatreds and differences."