Feel the Morning Breaking: Remembering Bill Clayton (1978-1995)

Bill Clayton wanted to be a sculptor, a teacher, an architect, a counselor…but his life was cut short by irrational hatred on May 8, 1995. He was barely 17. Bill had come out to his parents as a bisexual three years before, when he was 14. Molested by a sexual predator that same year, he went into intensive therapy and regained his old confidence. It took years, but by April 1995 he and his counselor agreed that he was no longer in need of counseling for the PTSD that had plagued him for the past three years.
Bill was out at school, and a vocal, active proponent of the rights of sexual minorities. When an anti-LGBT storm broke over a Women’s History Month speaking invitation to Colonel Margarethe Cammermeyer (who defied Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell in the U.S. Military) at Olympia (Washington) High School, where Bill was a student, he openly supported her presence on campus. She was allowed to speak on March 21, 1995. Strong, homophobic feelings hung thick in the air after that.

Colonel Margarethe Cammermeyer
On April 6, 1995, ironically one day after his therapist released him, Bill and his friends Sam and Jenny were attacked by a gang of students in broad daylight. The two boys were beaten and kicked unconscious after being verbally assaulted for being queer. The police arrested several boys under 18 who had acted on the community’s homophobia by targeting Bill and his friends. The assault was treated as a hate crime from the beginning. In time, the boys who attacked Bill and Sam were sentenced to 20-30 days in juvenile detention, followed up by probation and community service and four hours of diversity training concentrated on sexual orientation.

Bill after the hate crime assault
Olympia rose to the challenge, and began to face its homophobia at a rally in a city park on April 14. Bill spoke out, saying, “As an openly bisexual person in Olympia, I’m probably–or may be–the victim of this sort of thing again. Hate crimes–especially those against homosexuals and bisexuals and transgendered people are on the rise in this area. And that is why now–more than ever–we, the gay community need to come out and band together and fight for our civil rights and our right to be safe in our homes and on the streets.” It was a brave thing for him to do.
As a result of the attack, Bill fell into a deep depression, becoming suicidal. His family hospitalized him for his own protection and healing. Ten days later he came back home. He told his mother that all he could see ahead was a lifetime of dealing with one assault after another, and he was tired of coping with it all. She wrote about his fear and depression, “He was 17 years old–an age when kids are supposed to be excited about moving out into the world as adults. The only place he felt safe was at home.” She continued, “He saw no hope, so he chose to end his life.” As a living memorial to Bill, his mother, father, and brother have become advocates for LGBTQ youth, and strong voices for the prevention of teen gay suicide. They have not forgotten Bill, and we cannot let ourselves forget him, either.

One of Bill's last paintings, done while hospitalized for depression after the assault, "Hold Back The Dawn."
Now, with anti-bullying legislation on the books in several states, and pending in several others (NC, for one), Bill’s passion for life has a new dawning of hope. Federal legislation has been introduced in Congress to address school bullying and violence. Bill’s story takes on new power as the cause of security and hope for LGBT youth moves to center stage in American consciousness. Every time a life is saved, every time a young boy or girl is helped not to take their lives, Bill Clayton is honored. To save the lives of young queer folk is to vindicate the passion of our young brother, Bill, and all the thousands like him for whom the dawn did not break in time.
To that end, here is the link to the Trevor Helpline, http://www.thetrevorproject.org/ the oldest and largest 24/7 suicide prevention helpline for LGBTQ youth in existence. If you or a friend are feeling lost and alone, call the Trevor Helpline, 866-4-U-Trevor, [866-488-7386]. There is hope, there is help. Bill has not been forgotten. The morning is breaking.
Ten Years Later: Remembering Matthew Shepard
Sunday, October 12 marks the tenth anniversary of Matthew Shepard’s death. In honor of this important day, I offer an excerpt of a chapter in my forthcoming book, Unfinished Lives: Reviving the Memories of LGBT Hate Crimes Murder Victims. The chapter is entitled, “The Second Death of Matthew Shepard.”
Another Mother’s Day came and went. Another Father’s Day, too. Matt Shepard’s chair is empty in the Shepard home in Casper, Wyoming: no card from him, or roses for his mom; no tie or set of slippers for his dad–for over ten years. His parents, Judy and Dennis Shepard, and his younger brother, Logan, miss him everyday.
At the center of advocacy for LGBT freedom remains the enigmatic memory of the young, blond man trussed to a buck fence in Laramie, Wyoming. He has become the symbol for the hurts and hopes of lesbians, gay men, bisexual people, and transgender folk, both here and abroad. Curiosity or outrage at what happened to him usually begins the change in heart and attitude about hate crimes for the millions who hear his story. That alone is reason enough to tell and retell Matt’s story, and the stories of so many other LGBT people who have died so brutally. But are we any closer to understanding the real person, or is that person locked away behind the closed door of a decade of myth-making and amnesia? For most Americans, other than his family and his closest friends, the only way we come to know him is through the veil of the savagery that cut his life short. He suffered the dying, but we deal with the effects of his death.
There may be no way to recover who Matt Shepard was: the complicated young man who comes to life when his mother talks about his passionate opinions, his flashing temper, his generosity to a fault, his love of politics, his hopes of becoming a human rights advocate… and, we must add, his disturbing naïveté. The person he might have been is long gone. Like Beth Loffreda says, what we have left is the “whiplash” of his memory, haunting Laramie and haunting us, luring and stinging the conscience of our violent American society. Forgetfulness seems not to work. We can neither forget him, nor should we. In telling and retelling how his life ended lies the hope that a grace of transformation may seize us. Justice may yet be done, and hatred may change gradually into acceptance: of LGBT people by others and by themselves, of those who strike out against persons they fear and do not understand, and ultimately, of the need to grant each other room to live and let live.
Rest in peace, brother. We who survive you cannot, yet. We have much work to do.
Stephen V. Sprinkle
Director
The Unfinished Lives Project
Remembering Harvey Milk (May 22, 1930 — November 27, 1978)
Thirty years ago, Harvey Milk, the first openly gay man to be elected to public office in the United States, was murdered alongside San Francisco mayor George Moscone. Milk, a new film about Harvey Milk’s life and murder will be released this November. Directed by Gus Van Sant and featuring Sean Penn, the film recounts the hate crime assassination perpetrated by Dan White, a former city supervisor of San Francisco.

In the summer of 2006, Unfinished Lives project director Stephen V. Sprinkle visited the San Francisco Bay Area to conduct research about anti-LGBT hate crimes victims. His work included research about Harvey Milk. Sprinkle shares some of his recollections from the trip:
“On my first major trip to study LGBT hate crimes murder victims, I traveled to Gay Mecca, the Castro in San Francisco. Though this was one of several visits to Castro Street through the years, the summer of 2006 was different. It was the year I met Harvey.
“Gay life is as vibrant as those who live it, and the Castro is Ground Zero for all LGBT people thanks to Harvey, the ‘Mayor of Castro Street.’ On my way to the HRC Store, I had walked right by Harvey Milk’s camera shop without noticing it. A friendly clerk at the HRC named Fidel pointed me back there, and I walked back across the street and down the block until I stood facing the closed and vacant shop at 575 Castro Street. Down at my feet was a bronze plaque commemorating Harvey’s shop and home.
“I looked up and saw a mural of Harvey standing in the window, looking down from the second floor at the beloved community he represented as the first openly gay person elected to a major office in America. He and Mayor George Moscone were assassinated in City Hall by Dan White, a disgruntled former city supervisor, on November 27, 1978.
“Now, thanks to Gus Van Zandt, Harvey will be remembered in a major motion picture. It is only fitting that Sean Penn, one of our finest actors, will portray him on the silver screen he so loved. Enjoy the trailer, and remember Harvey Milk with gratitude.”
Zapata tragedy unites community against hate
According to an article published this week in the Greeley Tribune, the tragedy of Angie Zapata’s hate-crime murder in mid-July has unified family, friends, advocacy groups, and supporters to condemn intolerance.
Gathering together on August 10th, over two-hundred people remembered Angie Zapata and celebrated her life and gender identity.
Kelly Costello, director of victim services for the Colorado Anti-Violence Program, said all people, despite their differences, deserve to live without fear. Remarks made by transgender activist Donna Rose underscored Costello’s comments: “It takes courage to live in a world that tries to force you into a box,” she said.
Zapata’s murder has also invoked the memory of other hate-crime victims, including Matthew Shepard. According to the article, “One person read a note from Judy Shepard, the mother of Matthew Shepard, who was killed near Laramie, Wyo., in 1998 because he was gay.”
Also in attendance at the Saturday vigil were Rep. Jim Riesberg, D-Greeley, and other lawmakers and community activists.
Monica Zapata, Angie’s sister, also spoke at the vigil. “She always knew she was supposed to be a girl. And we knew it too,” she said. “Don’t remember her as transgendered but remember her as a beautiful, loving woman.”
Monica also said, “You are who you are and you should never be ashamed.”
Remembering Satendar Singh
July 21 marks the birthday of Satendar Singh, the victim of a 2007 anti-gay hate crime in Lake Natoma State Park in California. Russian evangelical Christians mobbed Satendar, shouted homophobic slurs, and beat him severely enough to cause a fatal brain injury. What began as a day to picnic and dance with friends is now a day of mourning for the LGBT community.
On Satendar’s birthday, we remember and celebrate his life. Singh would have been 28 years old today.
This “Being Gay Today” video describes the events leading to Satendar Singh’s death:
Remembering Scotty Joe Weaver
On this day in 2004, Scotty Joe Weaver fell victim to an anti-gay hate crime in Bay Minette, Alabama. He died at the hands of his own roommates, people who on the surface represented friendship and trust. Yet Scotty Joe was murdered while pleading for his life in front of people who betrayed that relationship and bond.
Today, join the Unfinished Lives project as we remember Scotty Joe, mourn his loss, and celebrate his life. In our memory, we restore to Scotty Joe the dignity and worth that rightly belongs to every individual, regardless of one’s sexual orientation.
Read a September 2007 news story carried by WKRG about the prison sentencing of Weaver’s assailants, and view the related television news report:
Remembering Charlie Howard
July 7 marks the twenty-fourth anniversary of Charles O. “Charlie” Howard’s murder in Bangor, Maine. As Charlie and his friend Roy Ogden walked on a downtown street, three teenagers accosted Charlie and his friend, shouted homophobic slurs, threw Charlie to the ground, and then punched and kicked him. The three youths decided to force Charlie over a bridge railing and into the Kenduskeag Stream twenty feet below. Ogden, who had initially fled from the assailants, looked back to see them throw Charlie over the railing. After sounding an alarm for help, Ogden, together with firemen and police, looked for his friend, whose body would not be found until hours later. On that same night, at a party, the three teenagers bragged about having thrown Charlie into the stream.
Today the Charles O. Howard Memorial Foundation and the City of Bangor are working to establish a granite monument to mark the place of Charlie’s murder. Despite earlier disagreements about the proposed memorial, the City of Bangor approved installation of the monument by unanimous vote during a City Council meeting last November.
Today the Unfinished Lives Project also remembers Charlie. The tragedy that befell Charlie twenty-four years ago still touches lives today, and as we remember him we also hope for a world where hate-crime violence no longer occurs.
Remembering Barry Winchell
Today marks the ninth anniversary of the death of hate crime victim Barry Winchell. He served in the United States Army and held the rank of Private First Class. Following a period of ongoing harassment directed at Winchell for having dated a transsexual showgirl, fellow soldier Calvin Glover used a baseball bat to bludgeon Winchell as he slept on a cot in the barracks of Fort Campbell. Winchell died of massive head injuries the following day.
Winchell’s brutal murder prompted President Bill Clinton to review the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” military policy, which many cite as a factor in the hate crime.
Today we remember Barry Winchell, and in our memory we restore to him the dignity and respect belonging to every person, regardless of sexual orientation.












Summer 2009 – Dr. Sprinkle responded to the Fort Worth Police Department and Texas Alcoholic Beverage Commission Raid on the Rainbow Lounge, Fort Worth’s newest gay bar, on June 28, 2009, the exact 40th Anniversary of the Stonewall Rebellion. Dr. Sprinkle was invited to speak at three protest events sponsored by Queer LiberAction of Dallas. Here, he is keynoting the Rainbow Lounge Protest at the Tarrant County Courthouse on July 12, 2009. 

