I've thanked them, but not enough. People like them-- people who were willing to fight when it was a hard battle-- have made my life tremendously easier. It's as easy for me to say that I'm bisexual as it is for me to say that I'm tall or white or from the midwest. Sure, there are people who will dislike me for that, call me names, judge me, pray for my redemption. That's OK. Words are eay to take. 30 years ago I don't know if I could have been out, not even to myself. I wouldn't have had the guts, and the consequences would have terrified me.
Marching down Market all night is my way of paying a small, insignificant tribute to the people who cleared a path for me. It's not courageous, it won't change the world, and all it's likely to get me is sleep deprivation and a head cold, but it let's me feel like I can reach back and touch my history for a moment.