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The took place on October 14, 1979. It was the first march of its kind, and the preparation for it was rocky. The first item on the agenda of the planning conference, held in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, the previous February, asked delegates to decide whether to hold a march at all. Many were opposed. A 鈥渉interlands caucus鈥� argued that calling attention to the presence of LGBT people outside of cities like New York and San Francisco would jeopardize their safety in the small towns where they lived. Lesbians and people of color were skeptical about whether the march would represent their interests.

In the end, though, the conference endorsed a march, to be organized on a grassroots level, led by a steering committee comprised of 50 percent of women and 25 percent people of color. The national organizations of the time, which were much smaller, poorer, and less influential than the ones we have now, were reluctant to join in, fearing that no one would attend, and that a failed march would be worse than none at all. The National Gay Task Force (now the ), for example, endorsed the gathering only a month before it was to take place, when it had become clear that people from around the country were going to stream into Washington in large numbers.

The experience was like nothing I鈥檇 ever done before. With friends from the weekly Gay Community News, where I was the features editor, I drove in a van to the march. GCN had printed up thousands of special issues that we were planning to distribute to the marchers. Cars passed us, beeping in support and holding signs out the windows. Every highway rest stop was crowded with people like us. The New Yorkers even chartered a special train. In Washington, the metro was crowded with obvious queers from all over the country. And on the day of the march, a huge crowd of us surrounded the Washington monument. The organizers estimated that there were at least 100,000 at the rally; the media, including the Boston Globe, reported far fewer鈥攂ut it was a victory that they reported on us at all. Our movement had finally grown too big to ignore. (And in an activist response to the Globe鈥檚 underestimate, Lesbian and Gay Media Advocates [LAGMA] formed, to push for accurate, unbiased coverage.)

The march had five main demands:

鈥� Pass a comprehensive lesbian/gay rights bill in Congress.
鈥� Issue a presidential executive order banning discrimination based on sexual orientation in the federal government, the military, and federally contracted private employment.
鈥� Repeal all anti-lesbian/gay laws.
鈥� End discrimination in lesbian-mother and gay-father custody cases.
鈥� Protect lesbian and gay youth from any laws which are used to discriminate, oppress, and/or harass them in their homes, schools, jobs, and social environments.

Thirty-six years later, the social status of LGBT people has changed enormously. Few LGBT people in Montana, say, would worry that a march in Washington, DC, would cause them to be set upon by an angry mob. In liberal Massachusetts, my employer, my neighbors, and my doctor all know I鈥檓 a lesbian. I鈥檝e been married to my partner of 27 years since 2003鈥攁nd my entire family came to our wedding. Since the Supreme Court鈥檚 Obergefell decision in June, my marriage is recognized by the federal government as well as that of my state. I can watch many television shows and movies in which LGBT characters make it through the entire plot without killing themselves. I can kiss my wife goodbye on the front steps when I leave for work in the morning without worrying (too much) that we鈥檒l be beaten or shot.

Vice President Joe Biden pointed out during the celebrations of Obergefell, 鈥淎lthough the freedom to marry鈥攁nd for that marriage to be recognized in all 50 states鈥攊s now the law of the land, there are still where marriage can be recognized in the morning and you can be fired in the afternoon.鈥� We have no federal protection from employment discrimination鈥攏or from discrimination in housing, education, public accommodations, credit, federal funding, and jury service. For that kind of protection, we would need the federal Equality Act: the . It has 鈥攂ut it鈥檚 a little hard to imagine it getting anywhere, given everything else that is jammed up in Congress. Last year, after the Supreme Court鈥檚 Hobby Lobby decision, LGBT groups gave up even on the more limited Employment Nondiscrimination Act (ENDA) after pushing for it for twenty years, since the court decision would have opened the door to endless religious exemptions. (Maybe none of this is surprising, given that the US has not yet been able to pass a women鈥檚 Equal Rights Amendment.)

Still, as .

We did get that 鈥攋ust last year. And we got rid of anti-lesbian and gay sodomy laws鈥攂ut only after a long slog that required not only overturning antiquated state laws but also the Supreme Court鈥檚 1986 Hardwick decision upholding Georgia鈥檚 sodomy law. The court 鈥攊n 2003.

Even child custody, which you might think had been resolved by equal marriage, continues to complicate the lives of LGBT parents and their children. Recently, 鈥� refused to list the biological mother鈥檚 wife on the birth certificate of the child they had conceived through donor insemination. Iowa officials argued that the law recognizes the biological and 鈥榞endered鈥� roles of 鈥榤other鈥� and 鈥榝ather,鈥� grounded in the biological fact that a child has one biological mother and one biological father.鈥� Back in 1993, the feminist science studies scholar wrote that 鈥渟ex and gender are best conceptualized as points in a multidimensional space鈥濃�攂ut Iowa hasn鈥檛 yet gotten the message. Wait until it has to tangle with the multidimensional space of gender nonconforming parents and children.

The protection of LGBT young people that we demanded in 1979 is in some ways the most depressing item on the list to contemplate. Of course, in some communities, LGBT youth can find gay-straight alliances, supportive peers and adults, and even church groups, none of which existed for the friends I marched with in 1979, some of whom had been beaten, institutionalized, or simply abandoned by their hideous, homophobic families. But LGBT youth are still to become homeless because they鈥檝e been rejected and kicked out by family, abused, or neglected. This of course leaves them vulnerable to lifelong poverty and trouble, because they lack education, access to resources, friendship, and support.

I recently asked the activist and writer about why we haven鈥檛 progressed farther鈥攁t a moment when, as she put it, 鈥渟ome people are acting though the movement is over, and we won.鈥� Equal marriage, she said, 鈥渋s only a partial victory鈥� The lesson from every civil rights movement is that formal legal equality doesn鈥檛 completely address people鈥檚 problems. Our community is incredibly diverse, in terms of age, race, nationality, geography, immigration status, gender identification, all kinds of parameters. We have to look at people鈥檚 lives through many lenses.鈥� She is currently leading an effort to address income inequality in the LGBT community鈥攂ecause despite the stereotype of the rich, white, gentrifying gay man, many LGBT people are far less economically secure than their straight counterparts, and their children are more likely to live in poverty. LGBT people continue to experience discrimination, legal run-ins, violence, homelessness鈥攂asically, all the issues we were fighting to change back in 1979.

As the late Yogi Berra famously said, 鈥淚t ain鈥檛 over till it鈥檚 over.鈥�

Amy Hoffman, M.F.A., is editor-in-chief of  published by and . A writer, editor, and community activist, she is the author of including, , about Boston鈥檚 lesbian and gay movement during the late 1970s, which was published by the University of Massachusetts Press in 2007.

Reprinted from the January/ February 2013 Women's Review of Books.

Longevity, I tell people who compliment me on my age (sixty) and youthful (apparently) looks, is not a sign of virtue. In my case, it鈥檚 simply dumb luck: a combination of good genes, a middle-class upbringing, and a job that provides me with health insurance. Yet for a small-circulation, special-interest publication like Women鈥檚 Review of Books, reaching a great age is an achievement. The year WRB was founded, 1983, was a boom time for feminist publishing鈥攐f books, newspapers, magazines, and journals, as well as 鈥檢ines, leaflets, manifestos, and graffiti. Little of that survives, but is still hanging on.

I attribute this to many factors. For one thing, WRB is, for better or worse, still necessary. Disgracefully, even after forty years of the contemporary women鈥檚 movement, feminist scholarship and critical analysis, and women鈥檚 creative writing, receive little more attention in the mainstream media in 2013 than they did in 1983. Unlike in 1983, when WRB and our sister publications could cover just about every feminist work that appeared, these days university, small, and even trade publishers are releasing an outpouring of interesting, challenging, original books by women. Yet most of this is ignored by daily newspapers, glossy magazines, and book review publications like the New York Review of Books. When it鈥檚 not ignored, it鈥檚 often treated fleetingly or dismissively: and the well-deserved prizes and recognition that writers like Joan Didion (an NYRB regular), Adrienne Rich (lauded more enthusiastically after her death last year than she often was in life), or Louise Erdrich (winner of this year鈥檚 National Book Award) do not mitigate the situation. WRB is just about the only place where you鈥檒l find long-form, review-essays by expert, excellent writers that thoughtfully consider the newest women鈥檚 studies scholarship and analysis. I鈥檓 regularly surprised by the lack of overlap between WRB鈥檚 coverage and that in the New York Times, for example. And WRB is by no means comprehensive: we do what we can in six issues per year, 32 pages per issue. There are a lot of worthy books out there that we miss, and getting old doesn鈥檛 mean we are getting complacent. We are always striving to do better.

Secondly, like me, Women鈥檚 Review of Books has been lucky in its parentage. Since we were founded, by 妻友社区 College Professor Linda Gardiner, we have been housed at the (WCW), a gender-focused, research and action organization located at the college. WCW not only provides office space, computers, and other invaluable infrastructure; the organization has also come to our rescue during financial crises, offered personal support to the staff, and cheered on our accomplishments. In 2005, when we had to suspend publication because we had, basically, run out of money, WCW partnered with , a publisher of scholarly journals, to get .

Since WRB鈥檚 founding, we have been developing an extensive network of writers and informal advisors among feminist scholars, activists, and journalists. As a result, as editor, I can always find a writer to say something interesting, intelligent, and even illuminating about any book we decide to assign. The journal鈥檚 reputation is such that I鈥檝e discovered I can cold call just about any feminist, no matter how exalted, and she will take seriously my invitation to review for us.

Of course, this is in part because at WRB, our terrific writers encounter a high-quality audience of activists and avid readers, one that appreciates their ideas, grapples with them, applies them in the world, and even extends them further.

So, the sources of WRB鈥檚 fountain of youth have been our relevant mission and the support of our parent organizations, our writers, and our audience. Perhaps one day a book review publication dedicated to women鈥檚 studies and creative writing will no longer be necessary鈥攂ut until then, Women鈥檚 Review of Books is here to stay.

Amy Hoffman, MFA, is editor-in-chief of the Women鈥檚 Review of Books at , . A writer and community activist, her newest book, the memoir entitled Lies About My Family, will be published this spring by the University of Massachusetts Press.