Lance Bradley - April 28, 1988

In the early 80's things were changing in Chelsea. The Chelsea Gym opened up, but there were still crack dealers further down the street. In the summer of 82, there was an outbreak of fag-bashing. The kids from the old neighborhood would beat up the newcomers with baseball bats.

The response from the 6Th Precinct was, "Why don't you get your own baseball bats?"

One response from the community was to start the first Anti Gay Violence Project.

Another was to start up self defense classes. And that's where I met Lance. He was my instructor at SAFE - Safety & Fitness Exchange. The small organization had a growing clientele in Manhattan. They gave classes mostly in schools and in Senior Centers.

I can't remember quite where the classes were, perhaps in PS 10 or Greenwich House, but there was Lance, looking like a porn star and behaving like a coach. I cannot quite complete the details of his face, but clearly recall him in loose green fatigue pants tightened at the waist, tshirt stretched over muscular shoulders and usually a hooded sweatshirt unzipped and pushed up at the arms. He was not a tall man, but strong and shiney, the kind of man you'd want as a brother.

A former Marine turned dancer, a total jock and your best friend. He was the drill Sargent for the gay national guard and taught me to hit and punch and kick, to scream "NO" at the top of my lungs, to defend myself on the streets of Chelsea and in the world.

Lance gave me and others the power to walk up 8th Avenue with strength and dignity.