Lesbians Build Bridges in Brooklyn

Amy Beth has been a volunteer coordinator at the Lesbian Herstory Archives since 1987.

Lesbian and Gay Pride Parade, New York City, 1996. Photo: Saskia Scheffer

It's the eve of the twenty-fifth anniversary of the Lesbian Herstory Archives, and in New York City a celebration will take place in a building just beyond the Brooklyn Bridge. On one side of this bridge the Ku Klux Klan has been granted a permit to hold a gathering on public property. On the other side of the bridge, the Brooklyn Museum of Art defends itself against the promise of city funds being cut for the indecent (sic) act of showing sensational censored art. The Mayor roosts above this landscape, pen and checklist in hand, "Klan? Yes. Art? No." And the lesbians keep marching by. We are marching in one direction across the bridge to protest the presence of the Klan anywhere. We are marching across the bridge in the opposite direction to support intellectual freedom and the arts. And amidst the hypocrisy of our city's politics and relentless cultural war, we are marching, always marching, to form community and to keep visible the struggle for our lives.

The Lesbian Herstory Archives is the largest and oldest lesbian archive in the world. Its founders began the collection because they were concerned about the failure of mainstream publishers, libraries, research and cultural institutions, and historical societies to value lesbian culture. Lesbian culture is inseparable from the legacy of social activism and the struggle for justice. When radical funding agencies ask, "How would an archive meet the funding criteria for a commitment to social change?" the proud answer emerges, "Where there have been social change movements, there have been lesbians. We have been in the front of the struggle, and we have been in the back, as the spine of the movement; lesbians are the presence and the memory of righteous acts everywhere."

The Lesbian Herstory Archives has become a mixture of library, museum, and family album. The Archives exists to gather and preserve records of lesbian lives and activities so that future generations will have ready access to materials relevant to our lives. It is a sacred, open, inviting place cultivated and cared for by lesbians. No lesbian is excluded, and every lesbian life can and should be represented. A handful of principles has guided the Archives for these 25 years:

• All lesbian women must have access to the Archives; no academic, political, or sexual credentials may be required for usage of the collection; race and class must be no barrier for use or inclusion.
  
• The Archives shall be housed within the community, not on an academic campus that is by definition closed to many women.
  
• The Archives shall be involved in the political struggles of all lesbians.
  
• Archival skills shall be taught, one generation of lesbians to another, breaking the elitism of traditional archives.
  
• The community should share in the work of the Archives.
  
• The Archives will collect the records of all our lives, not just those of the famous or the published.
  
• Funding shall be sought from within the communities the Archives serves, rather than from outside sources.
  

Continuing the work of the Archives is resistance to the cultural war raging around us. It is no small part of building a revolution. It is testimony to how we are a living, engaged arm in the struggles of the world around us. We are furthering collective strength and refusing to be condemned to the loss of memory in the fight. Our principles endure because they insist that a lesbian life is a valuable life, and treasuring our lives is a political act. They take seriously the dangers of homophobia and refuse the divisive agenda of oppressive thinkers.

The concerns addressed in the Archives' principles are particular to Lesbian community, but are equivalent to issues of inclusivity that confront grassroots organizing efforts everywhere. We don't accept funding from government agencies because the time when obscenity laws forced the confiscation of mailed journals and printed matter was only moments ago. The possibility that these reactionary laws will be reinstated is real, and this means that our documented lives are forever made vulnerable if linked to government funding sources. An individual's choice to deposit her truth in diaries, photos, letters, and recordings is too precious for us to run the risk of their confiscation. We refuse to be bought out by an academic or traditional research institution, because these always require certain forms of identification or credentials to gain entry; in this refusal we are meeting the challenge of making a home not just for intellectuals but for sex workers, not just for noted feminists of the seventies but for working class butch women too.

The Archives is a not-for-profit foundation. It has always been an all-volunteer organization. Located in Park Slope, Brooklyn, the Archives houses over 20,000 volumes, 12,000 photographs, 300 special collections, 1,600 periodical titles, 1,300 organizational and subject files, thousands of feet of film and video footage, art and artifacts, musical records and tapes, posters and T-shirts, buttons, and personal memorabilia. The range of material is astonishing--from medical texts to steamy 1950s pulp novels to Lesbian manifestos; from rhinestone pasties worn by a lesbian stripper to a team-autographed softball to a lambda-emblazoned hard hat. The Archives has grown tremendously because the community has always been involved, always contributed material, energy, and when asked, money. It has also thrived because of the unwavering commitment of its volunteers to reflect the courage and the struggles of communities in a non-sanitized manner, one which is affirmative, accessible, and accountable.

Homophobia is a common cause of fascist, Klan-ish thinking and is abundantly prevalent in the censoring of art and creativity everywhere. Homophobia is dangerous for all of our lives. As we celebrate the place of the Archives in the timeline, we know that the struggle of a conscientious people is cause for gathering. If a tree grows in Brooklyn, we know that lesbians have watered it, organized the fight to keep community gardens open, and argued the right to refuse pesticides. In its twenty-fifth year, the Archives serves as a living example of collective organizing where conviction is an invitation, and community is inevitable.

For information, Lesbian Herstory Archives, PO Box 1258, New York, NY 10116; 718/768-DYKE; www.datalounge.net/network/pages/lha