If you remember Mark Dewey, it’s not because of something he did on the field. He appeared in 119 games for the San Francisco Giants, waived and reacquired in between, and he was a generic right-handed reliever in every sense of the term. He floated through Major League Baseball without ever realizing he was floating through. If you remember him, it’s because of the ribbon-fish.
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In 1996, the Giants hosted their annual “Until there’s a Cure Day,” an HIV/AIDS awareness day that was the only one of its kind in professional sports. Dewey decided not to join other players in an on-field ceremony before the game, and then turned the red awareness ribbon on his jersey sideways to resemble a fish. He knew it would get attention, but he was adamant in his beliefs.
In the context of the moment, it was a tone-deaf action considering how the HIV/AIDS epidemic had devastated the city. Every adult who had been in the Bay Area long enough had known people who should still be there, people with life left to live who were gone much, much too soon. A lot of those people should still have a lot of life to live right now, with decades of memories behind them. The event was a response to the chaos and carnage that ripped through the city. It was a small measure of something, when doing nothing was the default.
Many Bible verses address how to treat people who have lost so much, who need to find strength in the darkest of times, and who must rely on the strength of community to persevere. If Dewey had seen the humanity of the people asking for help, the pain they had to endure, and the pain they were hoping to prevent, he could have pointed them in that direction. Instead, he made it about himself to focus on the perceived sin. To focus on that perceived sin, he had to judge, not help.
This comes up now because several Giants players responded to Pride Night on Friday by writing Bible verses on their caps. Landen Roupp started the game with “Gen 9:12-16” scrawled on it, the end of the verse bleeding into the actual SF part of the hat. JT Brubaker included “Gen 9:13-15” as one of the largest on-cap messages I’ve ever seen, and Ryan Walker returned from the minors with a smaller version on the side of his hat. Sam Hentges refused to wear the Pride Night hat at all, opting for the Giants’ standard black cap with orange letters.
The verse details God’s covenant with humanity after the great flood, as Noah is told that the rainbow will be a symbol of the covenant. By choosing this verse as a response to the rainbow colors of the pride hat, the message appeared to be: Don’t forget what the rainbow is really about.
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Like Dewey’s ribbon “protest” years ago, this was another tone-deaf response to what should have been a moment for community unity. They made the night about “us versus them.” That’s the only thing they could see.
Without the support of their community at large, LGBTQIA+ individuals are much more likely to be told that they are without value. They are likelier to be abused, to self-harm, to get kicked out of their homes, to be bullied, to be assaulted. They are at risk because of a society that still doesn’t always accept them, even after decades of progress. Some of that progress was made when events like Pride Night became commonplace, reminding the world of a community’s existence, strength and humanity. Events like Pride Night reduce suffering in a very real way. To suggest they don’t is to ignore the humanity of the individuals involved. The community is filled with human beings, people who need support and reminders that they’re worthy of love. Focusing on anything else first is putting the idea that all people are worthy of love second.
Consider the pain and suffering in the world. Consider how it’s caused, the historical roots of it all and the modern applications. Consider what steps we might take to end as much of it as we can.
Supporting people who have too often been, and continue to be, persecuted and othered would be a direct way to address the suffering. Many passages in the Bible would have also fit on the hat in this spirit. It takes effort to land on a passage that doesn’t address this. It takes effort to subsume the larger message with a smaller one.
Pride Night is about bringing more people into the group and telling them they belong in the same stadium, rooting for the same team. By resorting to “us” and “them” instead of truly understanding the humanity of the people asking for help, those who chose to make a statement on or with their hats completely missed the point. If anyone is looking to make the world better, they might try listening and understanding. Pride Night is about support and lifting human beings. Making it about something else — yourself, say, or the idea that some people aren’t as worthy of recognition or support — shows how little some people actually care about a message of love.
After the game, Roupp told reporters, “I’m thankful we live in a country where, you know, we have the freedom to believe what we want … and express what we want.” I’m also thankful for this, and I’m using that same freedom to suggest that he’s only scratching the surface of what he’s purporting to believe in. Dig deeper, my dude. Dig a lot deeper. There’s a way to help people navigate this life with the respect and grace they deserve. It is a choice to ignore that on a night dedicated to people who need others on their side. Do better. That’s the only thing we’re all supposed to do around here, anyway. Do better.
