Celebrating James Baldwin 💯: June 29

21 06 2025

“Go the Way Your Blood Beats,” Baldwin famously told Goldstein, an admonition to live one’s life authentically. As a black man, a gay man, a person who grew up in Harlem before WWII and left the country for Europe—spending the rest of his life in transit—Baldwin resisted what he called “all of the American categories” and, in his novels, essays and speeches, uniquely challenged America to look at itself, to liberate itself from the violence that still consumes it and defines its power in the world. Baldwin’s homosexuality, evident in his works’ frankness about sex, desire, fear and the many, intertwined obstacles to love and human freedom, is often un- or under-discussed. Our event honors the man, his dazzling originality and rebellious vision in full.

Richard Goldstein was executive editor of The Village Voice, for which he wrote on popular culture and sexual politics for 32 years. Among the umpteen interviews Baldwin gave in his life, Goldstein’s is perhaps the only one that dealt directly with homosexuality, the queer liberation movement and their relationship to Baldwin’s life and work. An award-winning commentator on lgbtq issues, a founder of rock criticism and early champion of graffiti culture, Goldstein is the author of, among other works, The Poetry of Rock; Homocons: Liberal Society and the Gay Right; and Another Little Piece of My Heart: My Life of Rock and Revolution in the `60s. He lives in New York City and Vermont.

This celebration of James Baldwin will be Kopkind’s second Pride Month event. It is part of the prolonged centenary commemoration of the revolutionary author and public figure, who was born in August 1924. On the preceding day, Saturday, July 28, Kopkind presents its annual lgbtq short film fest, Cineslam, at the Latchis Theatre at 4 pm. A reception and Pride Cake to follow. For tickets to Cineslam: https://www.cineslam.com/





The Adamant Memory of Vietnam

10 05 2025
Screenshot from Different Sons: Vietnam veterans chant “Peace Now!” en masse in Valley Forge, 1970.

On April 30 the people of Vietnam celebrated fifty years of independence from foreign domination. Reunification Day, they call it — also known as victory in the American War, as it is known in Vietnam, and defeat for the US in what we call the Vietnam War. These days in May the Pentagon is honoring Vietnam veterans, everyone who served between November 1, 1955, and May 15, 1975. Those commemorations edit out the soldiers who played a critical role in the antiwar movement. The soldiers who published underground antiwar papers on hundreds of bases, who manned GI coffeehouses, who engaged in direct action in the US and in Vietnam, who became mutineers, who founded Vietnam Veterans Against the War, and whose protests are powerfully documented in David Zeiger’s film Sir! No Sir! (which Kopkind screened publicly before its general release in 2005).

We remember those men and women here, whose valiant refusal is captured in one three-and-a-half-day action documented in Jack Ofield and Bowling Green Films’ 1971 short Different Sons. It is a moving document, available to the public from the Internet Archive and here by clicking the image above. Seventy-five combat veterans began a ninety-mile march from Morristown, New Jersey, on September 4, 1970. En route to Valley Forge, Pennsylvania, they took secondary roads, walking single file, wearing fatigues and carrying plastic M-16s, stopping for the night on Quaker-owned property, eating C rations or the equivalent. Along the way, they simulated their jobs in Vietnam, brutalizing or killing civilians. They didn’t expect to win converts, one of their leaders told the filmmakers; they hoped to provoke their fellow citizens to think differently, or begin to. The soldiers’ civilian-volunteers could never register the terror of the real thing, but outside post offices in tiny towns not known for antiwar sentiment, the re-enactments must have been shocking. Some bystanders mocked the vets for their long hair and moustaches; one stated they were working on orders from Satan. In the end, the vets, their number steadily enlarged and forming wide rows across the Valley Forge battlefield, chanted, “Peace Now!” ever louder, and broke their plastic rifles over their knees. This was a unique public demonstration, but opposition to the war was not a fringe opinion among troops. By 1971, one colonel remarked, it had “infested the entire armed services”.

The adamant memory of Vietnam goes a way to illuminating this country’s current crises. The story of the war and the Sixties culture of opposition that it stoked have been in the gunsights of the right from that time to today, as witness the machinations of the current regime’s braintrust and hangers on. Within a few years of the defeat in Vietnam, war fantasies were revived in Washington, and with them cold war liberalism as well as an emboldened right. Within a decade, an academic/political project to rewrite the history of the war in line with the views of those mocking bystanders — and, more important, the arms makers, war profiteers and their political satraps — had been established. The backlash that powered Ronald Reagan’s Make America Great had many helpers, including the corporate press and some precincts of the notionally left, reflected in a 1982 New York Times Magazine essay by Irving Howe titled “The Decade That Failed”. The right never forgot, and its project to extirpate every last gain of the Sixties era is the openly stated aim of ‘anti-woke’ crusader Christopher Rufo and his ilk today. Thus, among much else, the erasure of the soldiers’ revolt in marking the end of the Vietnam War.

Fifty years ago Andy Kopkind used the title above in an article for Ramparts about the great documentary Hearts and Minds, by our friend Peter Davis. We did a public screening of that film, too, early on in the so-called War on Terror, launched in 2001. A generation of Americans has grown up now with no memory of 9/11 and its aftermath, much less of Vietnam — no memory of the lies used to justify the invasion of Iraq, the first Shock and Awe, the roundup of US citizens said to be terror symps, the US torture regime and Guantanamo, now used to imprison kidnapped immigrants. No memory of Iraq Veterans Against the War, or the soldiers destroyed by their destruction of other people. Or Reagan’s proxy wars in between; or Obama’s Tuesday meetings to pick assassination targets after. No broad context in which to place the current US terror bombing upon the people of Yemen, or the long complicity with Israel to crush the Palestinians.

“Now, you don’t want to hear about it”, Andy quotes a Vietnam veteran, William Marshall, featured in Hearts and Minds. “I’ll tell you about it every day and make you sit and puke on your dinner, you dig, because you got me over there and now you done brought me back. And you want to forget it so somebody else can go do it somewhere else. Hell no.”

History is a weapon. Andy’s “The Adamant Memory of Vietnam” is reprinted in his collected writing, The Thirty Years’ Wars: Dispatches and Diversions of a Radical Journalist, 1965-1994. His first draft of history, the book provides an indispensable, analytical backstory to our time.





Happy Pride – CineSlam, June 29!

18 06 2024
Credit Stainless Images (@ramone), courtesy Unsplash

Pride month is every month when you live arms open to humanity. June is special, though, as we honor the memory, the audacity and the promise of liberation that the Stonewall Uprising represented, and still represents.

CineSlam, Kopkind’s annual Pride month festival of lgbtq short films, takes place this year on Saturday, June 29, at 4pm at the Latchis Theater, on Main Street in downtown Brattleboro. These short films – some narrative, some documentary, some experimental – draw from the well of queer experience. They are serious and moving, funny and fantastical. They are fabulous and real.

Please join us for films, fizzy drinks, Pride cake and celebration of all that’s been won and the ongoing work for liberation. For tickets, please go to https://filmfreeway.com/CineSLAM/tickets

This is a big year for anniversaries:
• 55 years since gay people said No to police repression and the closet, and Yes to life in full: those messages exploding in the streets of Greenwich Village around the Stonewall Inn in the early morning hours of June 28, 1969.
• 30 years since the death of Andrew Kopkind, who, among much else, wrote the most beautiful summation of the politico-cultural meaning of the riots at the quarter-century mark. (Read on.)
• 25 years since Andy’s family and friends started Kopkind, a living memorial, which since the summer of 1999 has created space for left journalists, activists and documentary filmmakers to come together to exchange ideas and experience, workshop films, and follow in Andy’s spirit of thinking deeply, living expressively and extending the field for freedom, pleasure and imagination. 25 years of putting on not just the seminar/retreat sessions at Tree Frog Farm in Guilford but also a plethora of public events, including CineSlam.

We’ll be telling you more about this year’s project and our July events in a future post. On August 24, what would have been Andy’s 89th birthday, we are celebrating our 25th with an outdoor barbecue, speakers and celebration at Tree Frog Farm. Watch for more on that too!

For now, Andy gets the last word, from an article in The Nation’s issue of July 4, 1994:

“Craig Rodwell, a witness to the war in the streets, said in an interview for the documentary Before Stonewall that what was most magical about the Stonewall riots was that ‘everything came together that night.’ Somewhere in the existential depths of that brawl of screaming transvestites were all the freedom rides, the anti-war marches, the sit-ins, the smoke-is, the be-ins, the consciousness-raising, the bra-burning, the levitation of the Pentagon, the endless meetings and broken hearts. Not only that, but the years of gay men and lesbians locking themselves inside windowless, unnamed bars; writing dangerous, anonymous novels and articles; lying about their identity to their families, their bosses, the military; suffering silently when they were found out; hiding and seeking and winking at each other, or drinking and dying by themselves. And sometimes, not often, braving it out and surviving. It’s absolutely astonishing to think that on one early summer’s night in New York that world ended, and a new one began.”