A metropolis is full of centers of gravity for the various communities that inhabit it, and many are must-see sights for tourists, such as Chinatown and Little Italy. When visiting we aren’t just limited with a trip to New York City, it’s more like a trip around the world. We can start off in Puerto Rico, jump over to Armenia, Lithuania, Israel, and back to Jamaica and more. These areas are unique because of the voices heard on the street there.

The LGBT community in Atlanta has a center of gravity at 10^th and Piedmont and last night our voices were heard on the street, speaking our language- poetry of acceptance and love. Speakers came to give an oral history to a new generation. A loud speaker shared these words with those passing by. A few stopped and were captivated by the message of love. It occurred to me that this wasn’t a closing party I was observing, it was the silencing of a voice. Will there ever be that loud speaker outside with words coming from within, compelling us to accept and love ourselves and each other?

Like anyone who ever visited, I have my stories, the stolen glances over a steaming cup of Joe, with a flavor shot. The celebrity sightings at the counter, you know, by the magazines. I applied there twice, and writing this piece seems awfully akin to the application process. Never hired, but last night I came full circle, if one believes in that.

One of last night’s speaker, Hollis Gillespie, was an early influence and writing hero to me. I read her columns in Creative Loafing, and for you youngsters, that’s back when Sugarland was Soul Miner’s Daughter and their gigs were ads in the same issues as Hollis’ column.  Living in my Northeast Georgia Hetero Purgatory, reading these columns about the mundane aspects of living a hip life in the city took me away. I was at Outwrite for her first book. I told her all this last night.

I walked home to my place in Midtown, blocks from the place that’s ‘around the corner’ from where I grab my copy of David. I’ve done this for years, but now I work for them, capturing the mundane activities of living a hip life in the city. I am surrounded by the life I dreamed about, inspired in part by Hollis, and the experience of being connected at Outwrite. In later years, it became the spot where I would meet my boyfriend, who was a regular, and I don’t think I could ever give up those orange paper cards.

I understand business models change, new technologies are created and business costs rise, but it doesn’t take away from the sorrow I now feel about the space. It used to be the place where I could go out on the little- well, I’ll be honest and tell people publicly what I called it for years- the ‘bucket of chicken’ and bum a smoke, listen to someone’s story (admittedly I smoked faster the sadder the story became), see someone I knew (like Alexandria Martin on her scooter) and blow air kisses. It was my Mayberry.

I know Phillip will do more great things but I will miss that meeting place for so many reasons.It was a location that served to unite our community. This year’s Pride parade will be a little quieter now without the crowd-rousing beats we used to hear from 991 Piedmont. Our voice, overheard on the street, will be no more.