Mandy Arrested as Soulforce Equality Ride Continues

This has been the most eventful week on the road for me personally so far. Our week began with a journey from Oklahoma to Baylor University in Waco, Texas. Baylor is the largest Baptist university in the U. S., and their strategy for interacting with us was to try to ignore our presence.

We had two days of conversations with students planned. The administration had sent out an email earlier in the day to the student body saying that we were not invited guests because they did not want the conversation about sexual orientation to be controlled by anyone else but themselves, but the first day was productive in that we found a good mixture of students to talk to. I spoke with some students who were respectful but confused about why we were there, and others who had not heard about our arrival at all. I also spoke with a group of students who were ecstatic that we were there, and who wanted to help in whatever way they could.

Our second day at Baylor will remain in my memory forever. A few years ago, an underground Gay-Straight Alliance called Baylor Freedom organized and held meetings off campus. In 2003, the group dissipated, primarily because of fear and lack of support on campus. Student groups at Baylor are allowed to advertise information about their meetings on campus with sidewalk chalk, but whenever Baylor Freedom attempted to do so, the administration instructed that their messages be washed away with hoses as soon as possible.

Since I took a similar stand at my own university when I was a student there, and started a GSA there with my friends, the stories of Baylor Freedom resonated with me. So with the memory of Baylor Freedom in mind, and with the knowledge of the forced silence of current LGBT students at Baylor, we walked to the chapel building that second day and began to chalk the messages of hope and affirmation on the sidewalk that Baylor Freedom was never allowed to say. As I looked around, I realized that there were almost as many students chalking with us as there were Equality Riders.

After only a few moments, I was personally arrested with the chalk I was using still in my hands. This began an unexpected 26 hour ordeal within the Waco justice system. At first, we were taken to the Waco jail, and they began to process us, patting us down, emptying our pockets, and asking questions about our identity and history. Then things took an unexpected turn.

They divided us up into perceived females and perceived males. My friend Shawn, who is transgender and identifies as male, was forced to join the females in the group. They then took us to a room and made us strip down and performed a cavity search. Then they handed us black and white striped jumpsuits and plastic sandals, and ushered us to a holding cell. After 11 hours of being systematically ignored, they finally pulled us out of the holding cell to finish processing us at 2 AM.

When they had taken our fingerprints and gotten more detailed information from us, they split us up into smaller holding cells--each one a room about 5 by 9 feet in length, with a small seat and a toilet. We were given wool blankets, but nowhere else to sleep but the concrete floor. Shawn was moved into a cell with me. At this point, having been separated from the perceived males in our group, and having no contact with anyone on the outside of the jail, we were really
beginning to worry. We were told nothing but that we would be there at least until morning. All we could do was wait.

Finally, at 10 AM, after 19 hours, a guard came and opened our cell door, and we sat with other perceived females to watch a video that told us our Miranda Rights. Then we were individually rushed before a judge who asked us briefly if we understood our rights and then set our bond at $2,000 per person.

Our hearts froze. This was much more than we had ever anticipated. Unsure of what was going to happen next, I used my one phone call to contact my girlfriend. This was my first contact with anyone outside the building, and she promised she would call the co-directors and let them know exactly what was going on.

We waited. Six more hours passed with no acknowledgment or interaction from anyone. Then, at four o'clock, 26 hours after being brought to the Waco jail, a guard came to our doors and we were led to the changing room again to put on our clothes.

When we stumbled out of the building into the sun, we were greeted by four Equality Riders who had stayed behind as the rest of the group had moved on in order to drive with us to meet them in Mississippi. We ran to meet one another.

Our next stop was at Mississippi College in Clinton, a town who had previously told us that within the town limits of Clinton, if any groups of Equality Riders exceeded more than three persons at a time, we would be arrested. After being sent a hasty reminder from the ACLU of our First Amendment rights, they rescinded that warning, but watched us very closely from the first moment we rolled into town with a police escort.

When we pulled in to the college, there were literally hundreds of students waiting. We held hands to cross the street as we got off the bus, and students who had planned to join us in our vigil also held hands to walk down the hill and meet us. We explained that we had made a collage of childhood photos of Equality Riders to present to the college as a statement that we are all God's children.

After a few more words from the people who had coordinated that stop, students were welcomed to come down to the property line and speak to us. Literally hundreds of conversations were had in the few hours that we were there. Five Equality Riders were arrested for simply stepping across that line to engage in conversation. They were sentenced to 10 days in jail suspended for those who had no prior convictions, but for the three Riders who had gone to jail before for justice, their sentence was 20 days in jail suspended with the stipulation that they do not get into legal trouble within the next 2 years. The other part of their sentence was that they must do four weekdays of community service. And as we were leaving Clinton, we were pulled over multiple times and told by the police to "go on and get out of town."

So our group has been divided again. The rest of us have had to move on while those three stay in Mississippi. This week has me examining the concept of voluntary redemptive suffering. In spite of everything we have gone through, I have to come to the conclusion that every pain that I must endure, every bail that we must pay is worth it for the life of one student who
is given the hope and encouragement to carry on.

This message is one that can no longer be silenced. The cost to stay as we are is much greater than the cost to continue.