Shane's Journal

Friday 7/3/09
With the sun fully up and the sky finally blue after almost a solid week of overcast and rain, Jen and I loaded up the bike, double checked the straps on the luggage, and headed out on the bike for a much needed mini-vacation about 11:00 AM. Our first destination was lunch, but with only 58 miles on the trip odometer since the last time I filled the tank, we hit the expressway and headed toward Port Huron figuring we would get lunch and gas all in one stop. With the wind at our back and traffic a little light once we made it out of Flint on I-69, we managed to hit Imlay City around 1PM and filled our tummy’s with warm Big boy food while we watched the sky turn overcast through the windows. The sun was peaking through the cloud deck every so often, and it was clear that there was blue sky up there beyond those gray clouds, but it was also clear that we were riding into the remainder of the overcast cloud deck as we headed east.

After a quick lunch stop at Big Boys, a fuel stop across the road, and some time to put on the long sleeve t-shirts before climbing back onto the bike, we were ready for the next adventure. We made it to Port Huron and through the confusing interchanges of I-69, I-94, and M-25 before slamming into a line of cars stopped for what would be a long stretch of red lights. It was the Friday before a major holiday and M-25 is a major route from the metro Detroit area to the Thumb, we were in Holiday traffic at 1:30 PM.

We finally managed to make it out of Port Huron, north of Lakeport, where we toured a State Park neither Jen or I knew existed, and won’t be returning to, and realized that we had finally left the traffic behind us on our journey farther north. We stopped at a couple of roadside Parks along M-25 between Port Sanilac and White Rock and cruised along the country scenes while M-25 flirted with the shoreline of Lake Huron and the sun played peek-a-boo through the thick cloud deck above. Eventually we made it to Harbor Beach and turned inland on M-142 headed for a quick gas stop and our final destination for the night.

We arrived at the hotel in Bad Axe, checked in, and were unpacking the duffel in our room by 5:30PM, right on schedule. We checked out the accommodations, stretched our legs and backs for a bit, made a quick Walmart run for some items that had been left behind, and stopped into the Gathering Place, attached to the hotel, for some dinner. I managed to convince Jen to join me in a quick game of pool in the game room after our meal, which I barely won, and we each tried our hand at an old school Elvira pinball game, neither of us was very good at that either. The pool was crawling with loud children so Jen and I opted to forgo the evening dip and simply retire to our spacious room, it was by far the largest hotel room I have ever stayed in and could easily have accommodated an additional king size bed along with all the furnishings that were in there already.

Saturday 7/4/09
Jen dragged my butt out of a surprisingly comfortable bed around 8:30 AM, she had been up for at least a half hour before I even opened my eyes, and we managed to hit the road by 9:30. This time we were headed home, via the long route, and from Bad Axe drove north on M-53 to Port Austin, which looked like a neat little country town we would like to go back to, but we didn’t dare stop for all the people crawling every which way. Port Austin was the center of the Thumb’s 4th of July activities, including the parade that was to happen at 1pm, but at just before 10AM there were so many people every where you looked that Jen and I decided not to stop and instead headed west out of town along M-25 toward Port Crescent State Park. We made a short stop at a roadside park just outside of Port Austin and wandered down the sandy path for a photo opportunity of the shoreline and offered our assistance to another biker family who wanted their picture taken along the lake. While Jen and I were getting ready to climb back on the bike, the two bikers who asked us to take their picture wandered back up to their bike and eventually got up the nerve to ask if they could take my picture. He wasn't looking for a goofy pose next to my ride but rather, a shot of the back of my jacket, where my Dykes on Bikes Detroit patch is sewn. They LOVED the patch and he wanted to take the photo back to show off to the rest of his biker friends.

I stood still, smiling the whole time, for the photo and eventually Jen and I did manage to climb back on the bike and ride off toward Port Crescent State Park. After a short cruise through the campground, which both Jen and I agree we would NEVER stay in due to site size and absolute lack of privacy, we headed over to the day use area for a little time off the bike and in the sun and sand. Yes, sand. We didn’t hike all the way down to the beach, but we didn’t have to because the wind has blown layers of sand over the boardwalks. So much so that it looked like Mother Nature had installed the worn handrails and fence posts in the dune paths herself. It was a beautiful day to build a sand castle along the beach and stand knee deep in Lake Huron as the waves splashed up to your waist, but Jen and I opted to view it from a platform above the beach and snap a few shore photos instead.

After a potty break and a slow cruise through the rest of the day use area, we headed back to the main road and westward on M-25. Not long after leaving Port Crescent State Park, we came to a screeching halt on the highway and waited patiently for the white tail deer to decide which direction she wanted to cross the road in. The car in front of us spooked her mid crossing and she was clearly confused about the safest direction to go. Once the path cleared I rolled forward slowly, keeping a careful eye for any movement on the roadside while we slowly passed the area the deer had just entered, and where I suspect she came from as well. I was not about to tangle my motorcycle with a 150+lb deer, that would not have ended well for either Jen or me.

Not too far up the road, we pulled into the Sleeper State Park campground and, though the ranger told us she couldn’t allow us to drive through the campground, I made a somewhat intentional wrong turn and managed to cover one of the loops to the campground. We were once again checking out layout and campsite size, for future reference. As much as I was tempted to, I didn’t dare cross the path of the ranger again and venture to the other side of the campground. Instead, Jen and I headed across the road for a stretch/snack break in the day use area along the shores of Lake Huron.

We parked, grabbed the packable cooler, and headed up the boardwalk to a nice platform that overlooked both the beech and the forested hillside and dunes. It was a beautiful spot for a picnic lunch, or snack in our case. My watch said it was just about noon when we stopped but since we had to forgo the planned breakfast stop in Port Austin due to the crowds, my tummy thought it was much later than that. We snacked, stretched, and watched the flocks of Cedar Waxwings and robins fight off the large family of chipmunks from the berry bushes along the hill side. We even snapped a few pictures of a chipmunk munching down on a cracker that I dropped on the ground and decided to toss his way. It was too cute to pass up.

With our energy partially restored and knees in full working order, Jen and I climbed back onto the bike and headed out to M-25 once again. This time we were in search of a lunch spot hopefully not too far down the road. That’s where the trip got a little scary and I was reminded just how quickly things can get dangerous while riding a motorcycle. Traffic was clearing on M-25 and I was preparing for a right hand, up-hill turn out onto the roadway when my finger slipped from the clutch lever and I popped the clutch, with the forks already turned to the right, Jen on the back seat, and the 50+ lb duffel on the rear luggage rack.

I immediately put my right foot down, stood up off the seat, and did my best to straighten the forks while applying the front brake to keep the bike from rolling in any direction. I’ve done this before, even with Jen on the back, and we saved the bike. This time, the combination of the pavement angle, the weight of the duffel, and me never explaining to Jen that she should try to counter balance the bike by sliding her weight to the high side of the bike, were too much. We didn’t manage to save it. It was like a bad dream, helplessly watching in slow motion as the bike laid itself muffler side down. It was propped up in the rear by the packed saddle bags, which saved the mufflers from damage, and the passenger peg which folded itself up nicely under the weight of the bike. As I lay on the ground under the bike, it took at least a full second for my brain to remember what I should do. I slid out from under the bike, thankfully not pinned under it’s weight, and killed the engine before looking back to check on Jen. She was okay, not visibly uninjured and sliding herself away from the bike. We survived our first crash!

I jumped to my feet, asked her once again if she was okay and quickly realized that two cars had stopped on the road to be sure that we were alright. From seemingly out of nowhere two gentlemen arrived at my side to heft the bike from its pathetic side down position and help me place it in its much more majestic side stand down with forks turned and parked position. I could have done it myself, by using the laws of physics and a little technique they taught me in my motorcycle safety class, but I was thankful for their help none the less. While Jen and I collected ourselves and I adjusted the mirror that had been badly knocked out of position in the fall, I checked for obvious damage. We were on the side of the driveway and out of harms way, I took my time getting back on that bike. My nerves were shaken; I didn’t know what I had done wrong, why I had popped the clutch in the first place. I was concerned that I would do it again and the next time Jen and I wouldn’t be so lucky. I was well over 100 miles from home, the bike was barely scratched, both Jen and I walked away, though not entirely uninjured we would later discover, and I had no choice but to confront the fear and climb back on the bike.

Jen, trusting in me more than she probably should have at the time, took a deep breath and climbed back onto her seat. I waited for her thumbs up to let me know she was settled, started the bike, and slowly pulled out on to the road. I was driving far more careful than I had in months, listening to every sound the bike made, watching for anything that seemed out of the ordinary. It was then that I realized what had caused me to pop the clutch starting the catastrophic chain of events pulling out from the state park. My clutch lever was sloppy! Had I ever checked that before? The bike was still almost brand new, but with close to 8,000 miles on it the clutch cable had stretched and a simple adjustment would have prevented that fall.

Not far up the road, I’m not certain it was even 5 miles to be honest, I pulled into a lakeside resort that offered lodging and a restaurant that looked open for business on the national holiday. As Jen and I climbed off the bike I again walked around looking for damage. What I found was a little bit of fluid that had spilled out of the engine and onto the chrome of the air cleaner cover, I presumes oil but suppose it could have been gas as well. I explained to Jen that it was normal and did not mean that the bike was damaged. Motorcycle engines are designed to remain in the upright position and when laid on their side, it’s common for them to leak a bit of fluid. There was no puddle, there was barely any fluid at all to be perfectly honest, but it was just enough to washed off some of the filth from the chrome and make it almost shiny again. That's the only reason I even noticed it.

I also discovered that I had scraped up the end of the brake lever, the bottom of my driver peg, and the tip of the passenger peg when the bike went down, but that was it. No dents, no dings, no serious damage at all. In fact, all the damage I did do could easily be explained as simple flying debris on the highway, they really are that superficial! Lady luck was certainly watching out for us on that trip as it could have been so much worse. Even the injuries Jen and I sustained, a twisted ankle for Jen, a bruised knee and pulled right arm for me, could have been so much worse. My bike has a dry weight of just less than 700lbs. It was not dry, and it had an additional weight load of close to 100lbs with the duffle and saddle bags. Add in hot engine and exhaust parts, there could have been so many more common injuries, but we were lucky.

We collected our nerves over lunch while we watched the children playing in the pool and the waves roll in on the distant shore of Saginaw Bay, then paid the bill and headed out to the bike for the final stretch toward home. We were in Caseville, still a good hundred miles from home, but it was time to make tracks, trade the scenic shoreline vistas for farmland and open prairies, and once we hit Sebewaing, to eventually head south toward home once again. With an emergency stop to watch a mother mallard duck parade her ducklings across the road, then turn back to the shoulder where they came from and hide in the weeds, and gas stop just north of Frankenmuth where we stretched, refueled with a bit to eat, and quenched our thirst with some cold drinks, Our trip was rapidly coming to a close. We decided to head home the quickest route that did not involve the expressway. Just north of Flint, I changed my mind, made a quick right turn, and hopped on I-475 to complete our journey home. After two solid days on the bike and close to 350 miles logged, I was ready to be home and park the bike for a day or two while my tail bone and my now aching right arm healed.

All in all, we logged roughly 350 miles and a total of 10 hours on the bike over a two day period. We enjoyed the scenery, the wildlife, and the hospitality of rural Michigan. It was a welcomed break from daily life and an excellent way to celebrate our freedom on Independence Day weekend. We’ve even talked about a modified version of the trip this fall when the color begins to pop. It should be a beautiful ride along the shore of Lake Huron and Saginaw Bay with the trees in full fall colors.

That question seems simple at first, obviously friends and family are on there, but take a second glance at your list, who is really there? In the case of my Facebook account, there are many people whom I know, directly or through other friends, who are on my friends list. I have even created categories of them so that I can easily sort my friends list based on how I know the person. I have one for co-workers, one for people I went to school with, one for those I went to camp with, one for members of the motorcycle club I belong to, and of course, one for those I don’t know at all but have added as friends in order to increase my Street Racing Crew. Did you notice something missing from that list? Go on, take a closer list. Did you see one for family? Nope, you didn’t miss it, it’s no there. Want to know why?

Facebook is a portal for my friends and family to keep tabs on my YouTube, Picasa Web, and Flickr uploads. It imports my blog entries, gives them access to my “tweets”, and lets them leave short messages and comments on my activities. When I get a friend request, I consider all the possibilities of approving that person as a friend. In most cases, I accept, toss tier name into the appropriate listing based on how I know them, and never think twice about it. Every once in a while I get one from someone that makes me think. I once got one from a former classmate who I never got along with and I would rather attend her funeral, smiling the whole time, than add her to my friends list on Facebook. It took a few days for me to decide to simply hit the ignore button and move on with life, but I did just that.

Last week I got another request from my brother-in-law. I don’t’ have an issue with him, nor do I wish to avoid him in any way, but I am well aware that we disagree on many subjects that I write about in comments, status updates, and blog entries. Adding him to my friends list would mean that I have to filter my writing, something I refuse to do. It took a few days to make the decision, carefully weighing all the options, but eventually I decided that for the good of my relationship with my family, which is already strained much of the time, ignoring his request was also a requirement. Now I wait to see if he notices I haven’t accepted yet.

I also happen to know that I have been the victim of the ignore button at least once. It was a request to someone I knew a lifetime ago, a staff member at The Timbers camp where I spent my summers in junior high and high school. We were never close, not like Stacey and Kellie kind of close anyway, but I knew her, have thought of her on occasion over the years, and sent the request. After a few weeks when it had not yet been confirmed I ventured out to her profile to see if she had been logged in since and noticed that the button to add her as a friend was once again available. Clearly I had been ignored.

It was no skin off my nose and I decided to simply click the button again, in the event that the ignore button had been clicked on accident, it happens, and follow it up with a note. I explained how I knew her, why I had requested she add me as a friend, and explained that I fully understood if she chose to ignore it again. I took that opportunity to say everything I thought I needed to, including a thank you for playing a part in making my summers at The Timbers memorable and enjoyable. I haven’t looked to see if she has ignored the request yet, as I anticipate she will, but it is no skin off my nose if that ends up being the case. We all have different reasons for requesting and accepting or ignoring friends. Maybe she looked at my list of friends and decided that there were people on that list she didn’t want to be in touch with again. Maybe she hit her head and doesn’t remember me at all. Maybe she simply reserves her friends list for those she truly views as a friend rather than just someone she knows and doesn’t dislike.

But what do you do when someone you know, and consider a friend, accepts your friend request and then mysteriously disappears? I too have had this happen and it was done by someone I never expected it from. Apparently we’re not as good of friends as I once thought. Maybe that’s why she conveniently makes her way back to Michigan once every few years yet I haven’t seen her in almost 16 years. She never owns up to that, always blames it on bad timing or something like that, but the recent development has me wondering. Oh and yes I am aware that she is reading this, she checks my blog every few days though like almost all of my readers, never posts a comment or sends me an e-mail. I sent her a message on Facebook asking if it was a mistake, she hasn’t replied yet, and I get the sneaking suspicion she won’t. I’m sure she has her reasons, and maybe they are good ones, but it stung a little just the same.

I guess I was probably a little over due for a reality check on discrimination and discomfort with the whole subject of homosexuality for far too many people out there. It has been a long time since it has slapped me in the face as a reminder that not everyone out there is comfortable with my sexuality and some are down right offended by it. To be honest, I’m a little uncomfortable with the idea of women sleeping with men, but I don’t’ go around telling all the breeders of the world to stop loving who they love and prohibit their rights to equality and free speech.

This all began last Friday when I innocently wore my Dykes on bikes club T-Shirt to work since it was a jeans day. I got a few smirks and second glances as I walked in and up to my desk, but nothing out of the ordinary or all that unexpected. I also managed to get a few compliments on the design and one person asked where they could get one like it. It was a quiet day around the office and I went on with the business of my day, left my desk a grand total of three times, and had extremely limited contact with the rest of my co-workers. Yet, at about 11:30 my direct supervisor came and asked me to come with him. As we passed by his office where I assumed we were headed, he told me we needed to go talk to the Director of our department … never a good thing. I was told that I was in violation of the company dress code because my T-shirt fell into the vague category of “overly controversial” and that I would need to take the remainder of the afternoon off (with pay) because I did not have another shirt to change into. Let the drama begin.

I asked few questions, knowing that the office politics were not worth getting upset over right then and there, returned to my office to close out of all my files, grabbed my bag, and headed to the human Rescources office. It was then that I learned that HR had no idea I was being sent home, seemed a little strange to me, and that the person who was in HR that day could not explain to me why the shirt was so controversial. She requested that I bring it back Monday so that her boss could look into the matter for me. On that note, I left the building at about noon on a beautiful sunny June afternoon and enjoyed my suddenly extended weekend. I had some things I needed to get done before Monday morning, which is what I was working on when I was called away from my desk. I made the decision that if I was not allowed to work my regular schedule to complete those tasks they could wait until next week and the project would simply be delayed a week, no skin off my nose. I didn’t do a single work related thing from Friday at noon until I arrived today at 8:30 to start the new week. Thank you for the time off!
I had time to cool off over the weekend, to let the irritation slide a little bit and approach the issue with a little more political tact that I could have mustered Friday. I scheduled a meeting with the HR manager as directed and took in the shirt so he could look at it. The first words out of his mouth “Wow that’s a pretty shirt. I wouldn’t mind wearing one of these.” Then he attempted to answer my questions and assure me that he will look into the matter for me. He also apologized on behalf of the company that I felt “singled out”. Until that moment, I didn’t realize that everyone else sees this as a clear case of discrimination. I was simply asking why the shirt was controversial, not why I couldn’t wear it. If it doesn’t fit the dress code for jeans Fridays, I won’t wear it. But I need to know why it doesn’t fit so that I don’t wear another shirt that may land me in the same situation. So far, nobody can tell me the answer to that question.

In that short conversation with HR, I don’t feel much better about any of this. If anything, I’m more confused. What I learned is that if one single person is uncomfortable with or offended by a shirt you wear to work you can be sent home, presuming that the dress code is enforced universally. I guess this means that for every Christian, political, sports team affiliated, etc shirt I see that I disagree with I should take my concern to HR rather than being an adult, considering the source, and walking away. I was also reminded that there are people in this office, a place I have been comfortable enough to be out from the moment I walked in on my first day, that are so uncomfortable with my sexual orientation that merely being reminded of it is offensive to them. Seeing gay pride colors or slogans on my shirt, or the trade marked name of a lesbian motorcycle organization makes them so uncomfortable that they can’t get their work done if it is in the building. Yet those same people see nothing wrong with spouting Bible verses, wearing Christian themed shirts, and discussing Christian topics in the middle of the office corridors where not every employees of this company is a Christian. Ahh the double standard.

My saga continues over the T-shirt controversy as the HR manager asks questions of those involved in the decision to send me home, and to our parent companies HR department to find out their view of the situation and how things should have been handled. In the mean time, I’m uncomfortable being in the building today, and experiencing a feeling I haven’t felt in a long time, hatred toward me for something I can not, nor do I wish to change. I know it is their ignorance that will one day be their downfall. I know that I must be the bigger person and allow them their prejudice, but I don’t like this familiar feeling of being alone in the crowded office and not even able to look my department head in the face let alone the eye. He has forever lost my respect simply for the way in which he handled the situation. I guess it’s fitting that he is obviously uncomfortable around me today as well. He has not said a single word to me in the handful of time I have crossed his path and more than once he has seen me walking toward him in the hall and turned away rather than acknowledge my presence. Feels like high school all over again in so many ways!

Born into a world that will never understand you
Forced to live a life that will never make you whole
Spend your whole life wondering why it doesn’t feel right
Or listen to your heart and set yourself free
Stand up
Stand out
Stand tall
Never let their hate filled words break your resolve
You’re not a freak, a mistake of nature
You deserve to belong and to be loved
You are human too!

Buy my book on Amazon.com!

It began like any other Sunday in June, except that I was awake, out of bed, and moving before 9:00 AM. Mom and Dad stayed the night after finishing the tile job very late on Saturday and, though I was awake when they left, I never actually saw them Sunday morning. Jen and I dressed and headed to Fenton to return the loaner car to the Ford dealer and pick up the Escape for what had better be the FINAL time for the transmission repair. A quick stop for breakfast and we were headed home under partly cloudy skies debating the weather for the remainder of the day. By 10:30 we had decided to risk the 10% chance of rain and climbed on the bike headed south for Motor City PRIDE in Ferndale, MI.

The winds were calm and the ride down was nice, even with a still healing tail bone, but when we hit Auburn hills I decided I needed a break from the express way pace. We exited smoothly on Square Lake Rd and took Woodward south to 9 Mile where the festivities had already gotten under way. Our instructions were to arrive at any of the barricades along 9 Mile and ask security how to get to the DOBD crew … but Security had no idea! Thankfully we had a cell phone and managed to contact H-Bom who gave us detailed directions to get around to the back of the blocked off area and in to our space for the day. The row of chrome was impressive!

Jen and I spent the day hanging with the girls, getting to know some of the members who have not been able to make it to meetings, and cruising through the crowds to check out all of the booths and festivities. It was our first PRIDE in at least 8 years and I was impressed at how much it has grown and how well they pulled it off considering the lack of communication and late planning for some of it. Jen and I even managed to make it into the new Affermations building, though Sean was not to be seen so I couldn’t give him a hard time about his days as president of GALA at Oakland University in the mid 1990’s

The PRIDE festivities wrapped up around 6:30 and many of us headed over to a member’s house for a little food and some quieter time to hang out. The streets of Ferndale were packed with people most of the day and the Thumpa-Thumpa of the dance pavilion could be heard way down at the end of the line where we were set up. It was nice to sit quietly in the back yard, well as quietly as 9 vocal women can sit while eating, razzing those around the table, and telling stories. I was comfortable with the crew, even those I didn’t know before walking into PRIDE that morning, and it was a good feeling to be with a group of friends who accept you as you are, no questions asked. For me, that’s what PRIDE is all about, well that and the people watching as they parade past you dressed, and often barely dressed, in everything you can think of, and many things you wouldn’t dream a person would wear in public.

Jen and I hit the road about 8:15 hoping to beat the incoming rain and crawl into bed before it got dark. We managed to pull into the garage at almost exactly 9:30, hang up the gear, and call it a night before the sun was completely down, but we did not manage to beat the rain completely. There was a period of about 5 miles of stinging rain drops on the face and minimal spray off the front tire, but like it often does in Michigan, it cleared, the pavement dried, and the wind dried us out long before we ever got home.
A good day … A long day … and next Saturday we ride to Lansing for Michigan PRIDE, as a pack!

This was too cool not to post ... taken directly from Whitehouse.gov WORD FOR WORD!

THE WHITE HOUSE
Office of the Press Secretary

___________________________________________________________
For Immediate Release June 1, 2009

LESBIAN, GAY, BISEXUAL, AND TRANSGENDER PRIDE MONTH, 2009
- - - - - - -
BY THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
A PROCLAMATION

Forty years ago, patrons and supporters of the Stonewall Inn in New York City resisted police harassment that had become all too common for members of the lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) community. Out of this resistance, the LGBT rights movement in America was born. During LGBT Pride Month, we commemorate the events of June 1969 and commit to achieving equal justice under law for LGBT Americans.

LGBT Americans have made, and continue to make, great and lasting contributions that continue to strengthen the fabric of American society. There are many well-respected LGBT leaders in all professional fields, including the arts and business communities. LGBT Americans also mobilized the Nation to respond to the domestic HIV/AIDS epidemic and have played a vital role in broadening this country's response to the HIV pandemic.

Due in no small part to the determination and dedication of the LGBT rights movement, more LGBT Americans are living their lives openly today than ever before. I am proud to be the first President to appoint openly LGBT candidates to Senate-confirmed positions in the first 100 days of an Administration. These individuals embody the best qualities we seek in public servants, and across my Administration -- in both the White House and the Federal agencies -- openly LGBT employees are doing their jobs with distinction and professionalism.

The LGBT rights movement has achieved great progress, but there is more work to be done. LGBT youth should feel safe to learn without the fear of harassment, and LGBT families and seniors should be allowed to live their lives with dignity and respect.

My Administration has partnered with the LGBT community to advance a wide range of initiatives. At the international level, I have joined efforts at the United Nations to decriminalize homosexuality around the world. Here at home, I continue to support measures to bring the full spectrum of equal rights to LGBT Americans. These measures include enhancing hate crimes laws, supporting civil unions and Federal rights for LGBT couples, outlawing discrimination in the workplace, ensuring adoption rights, and ending the existing "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy in a way that strengthens our Armed Forces and our national security. We must also commit ourselves to fighting the HIV/AIDS epidemic by both reducing the number of HIV infections and providing care and support services to people living with HIV/AIDS across the United States.

These issues affect not only the LGBT community, but also our entire Nation. As long as the promise of equality for all remains unfulfilled, all Americans are affected. If we can work together to advance the principles upon which our Nation was founded, every American will benefit. During LGBT Pride Month, I call upon the LGBT community, the Congress, and the American people to work together to promote equal rights for all, regardless of sexual orientation or gender identity.

NOW, THEREFORE, I, BARACK OBAMA, President of the United States of America, by virtue of the authority vested in me by the Constitution and laws of the United States, do hereby proclaim June 2009 as Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Pride Month. I call upon the people of the United States to turn back discrimination and prejudice everywhere it exists.

IN WITNESS WHEREOF, I have hereunto set my hand this first day of June, in the year of our Lord two thousand nine, and of the Independence of the United States of America the two hundred and thirty-third.

BARACK OBAMA