In defense of “glitter bombing”

Today, a group of LGBT rights demonstrators “glitter bombed” the clinic run by Marcus Bachmann, husband of Rep. Michele Bachman. It’s the latest, and largest, glitter bomb in what seems to be an informal campaign of drawing attention to (and shaming) the anti-gay positions of prominent politicians. Current GOP presidential candidates Tim Pawlenty and Newt Gingrich have also gotten the glitter treatment.

In case you’ve missed this mini-phenomenon, glitter bombing is just what it sounds like: demonstrators fling handfuls of glitter at their targets. It’s attention-getting, but friendlier than a pie to the face.

The demonstrators at the Bachmann clinic had their act together. In a reference to Mr. Bachmann’s comments calling gay teens “barbarians,” they dressed like the cast of a Capitol One commercial. Instead of going after Rep. Bachmann (at least this time), they went to the clinic that’s been accused of practicing bogus “pray away the gay” therapy. And, of course, they sent out a press release.

What interests me is the response to this particular form of protest. It’s not designed to convince the glitter target to change his or her mind; it’s more about getting the attention of others. There’s been a lot of discussion among activists over how effective glitter bombing is in achieving the goal of earning sympathy. And that’s really what I wanted to address.

In any movement, there are going to be activists pushing boundaries and, inevitably, those who urge slow-going and caution, and complain that in-your-face tactics will just turn people off. That’s a worthy discussion for activists to have. But what irritates me is when someone on the “slow down” side pulls out the non-violent examples of Gandhi or Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. to prove their point – the implication being that Gandhi or King NEVER pushed the envelope, and just waited piously and patiently for change to come. Not true. And, actually, kind of dangerous.

A few years ago, I wrote a story about a man who’d been involved in the integration struggles in St. Augustine, Fla., in 1964. Dr. King successfully used St. Augustine as a rallying point at the same time that the Civil Rights Act was being debated. This man’s impression of King was that he was incredibly shrewd and savvy when it came to public relations and dealing with the media. For instance, King would time demonstrations and other activities to take place by late morning so that the national media would have time to pick up the story for evening broadcasts.

King wasn’t a shrinking violet, and neither was Gandhi. We’ve mythologized them both into these passive, godlike figures who humbly accepted all the abuse heaped on them and spewed unobjectionable pablum. And the reason I said that this is a little dangerous is because that myth is being used to lecture today’s activists about how they should just sing softly, hold candles and shy away from strategically pissing people off.

I don’t know if glitter bombing “works” as activism for any goal other than drawing attention to the anti-gay positions of people who want to be our president. But the bombers should remember one thing: every single person who has ever tried to change anything, including Gandhi and King, was told at some point that they were coming on too strong. If you’re not raising eyebrows at least every now and then, you’re doing it wrong.