Out In The Mountains : News - This Is A Hate Free Zone

This Is A Hate-Free Zone
Plattsburgh's Response to Fred Phelps

by Cynthia Potts

       You can still see the signs everywhere. In coffee shops and bookstores, auto parts stores and insurance companies, black and white placards announce "Hate Free Zone." It was a message the Reverend Fred Phelps and the members of his homophobic Westboro Baptist Church didn't want to see.
After learning that Phelps was planning to come to the Champlain Valley to demonstrate at the annual Mayor's Cup Festival, community members, led by Amy MacLeod and Rebecca Leonard, came together to form Plattsburgh for Peace.
      "As soon as people heard that Fred Phelps was coming," said Sara Dean, of Plattsburgh, "I felt that we needed to make sure that it was obvious that wasn't how Plattsburgh feels. That Phelps doesn't reflect our values." Dean was instrumental in persuading her Baptist church to support the message of Plattsburgh for Peace.
      "This was truly grassroots Plattsburgh," MacLeod said. "There's never been a movement with such a variety of volunteers. People really came together to say 'We don't want this in our town.'
       "Plattsburgh for Peace had definitely taken the stance that we didn't need Phelps to come here. We didn't want to give him the attention. So when he first arrived on Saturday, we deliberately didn't make any appearances," McLeod explained, delineating the group's strategy.
      "St. Peter's brought tears to my eyes. They made a huge quilt-style banner that said 'Stop Hate' and hung it two stories up on the front of their church. Then to see Mayor Dan Stewart and his partner Jon Recor walk hand-in-hand into the church? It gave me goosebumps." Once the couple got inside the Catholic church, the congregation stood up and cheered, MacLeod recalled. "You would have thought they were rock stars."
      "Unfortunately, there was a lot of counter-protesting at Trinity Episcopal," MacLeod said. "The community needed to get it out of their system. There was a lot of shouting back and forth." One potential incident was quickly contained by law enforcement. "Phelps's people never looked happier than they did at that point."
       McLeod continued, "But the second day, it was all peaceful and quiet. People turned their backs on Phelps." Instead, they were visiting the Plattsburgh for Peace booth. "We were completely overwhelmed. We had to empty two donation cans every twenty minutes." The group was offering wristbands for Mayor's Cup attendees to show support for the cause, "and we could barely keep up. But we went through the information even faster."
       Plattsburgh for Peace distributed a Hate Survival Guide, as well as tip sheets for schools and businesses on how to create hate-free zones, and research materials for teachers. "We had a lot of parents picking up the sheets," MacLeod said, "and many teachers from out of state who wanted to bring the materials back home."
       "That's probably the most important part," said Tierney McKee, an educator from Fairport. "When parents and teachers actually sit down and talk with their kids - even if they themselves aren't gay, aren't comfortable with gay people, whatever – they're reinforcing the message that hatred is not okay and violence is never an option."
       Between donations and the pledge-a-minute fund drive, Plattsburgh for Peace raised over $8,000 to be split among five charities. The Interfaith Council's Hospitality Network received $1,778.50. The Interfaith Food Shelf received $2,237.50. $2,072 is going to the Matthew Shepard Foundation, and another $1,425 to the Aids Council. And the Southern Poverty Law Center is getting $1,115. Donations came from all across the country, funneled through the Plattsburgh for Peace website.
       Phelps' group had planned to stay at the Mayor's Cup until seven or eight in the evening. "They'd scheduled a picket for 6 p.m., which is prime time at the Mayor's Cup," MacLeod said. "But then they switched to an afternoon picket, and they were 20 minutes late for that. They skipped their evening picket entirely. But their comment to the media was that they were 'bored with the Champlain Valley.' That tells us everything we need to know."
       "I’m really proud of our town," said Erika McKinstry, a Plattsburgh resident who attended the Mayor's Cup. "Maybe people's minds are opening up, and they're ready to accept people who are a little bit different from themselves."
       Transforming Plattsburgh into a hate-free zone took hundreds of volunteers countless hours of effort.        Photocopying, folding literature, and cutting stickers for distribution kept volunteers busy for days.
      The financial situation was similar. "We didn't have any large donors," MacLeod explained. "Everything we needed we literally built with tiny donations. More people said, 'I'm sorry I can't do more,' as they pressed a crumpled $10 bill into our hands. But our bucket was literally filled entirely of tiny drops.
      "We wanted to reach out to everyone," MacLeod explained. "Rebecca Leonard called every church in town, and attempted to meet with every one of them face to face. The vast majority agreed to meet with her, and supported our message. At one church, she did have to deal with a guy who spent two hours trying to 'save' her, but once they listened, they supported the cause. Another church told her that they agree with Phelps, just not how he's spreading his message. But once you have that conversation, you're starting the steps toward a hate free zone."
      The anti-hate effort bore fruit in unexpected places. "We saw networks being formed that never would have been formed," McLeod said with awe in her voice. "I personally saw people I'm used to seeing on the wrong side of the sidewalk at Planned Parenthood, that I've escorted patients through, coming to keep Phelps' poison out of our town. And I sat down with them, and thanked them for coming." The Plattsburgh Democratic and Republican parties signed a joint letter of endorsement of the group's activities.
      McLeod credited nearly everyone’s efforts but her own. "We couldn't have done it without the youth in the area. They were the ones that made the stickers and wristbands cool. They were so eager to participate in this. They actually did the activism and saw it work. That means when another situation comes up, they'll be likely to try it again. And those are tomorrow's voters."

Cynthia Potts is a freelance writer living in Ellenburg Center, NY with her partner and two feminists-in-training.