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A billy club came down hard on the woman’s brow.
The moment Olivia Kirby noticed the outraged policeman’s hand lift, she had whirled around. Facing him directly, she reacted.
Her camera was fully loaded, and she shot a sequence of the police officer hurling a barrage of blows.
stunned women surrounded the scene. Every filament of thought became mystical and far away. Several screams lifted and ricocheted around the barroom, as if coming from a different planet.
Things were different in the gay and lesbian world of the mid-sixties. It was a precarious era, as photographer Olivia Kirby would learn.
Human beings reside within the heart of time. We are born inside a slot of Actuality. Our soul lights up at the time and place where we become our own.
Olivia had just moved to Denver, Colorado. She entered the shabby lesbian bar, were she witnessed the commission of a crime. From then on she was endangered–hunted by the killer. terrified, she hid out–and hoped. Hatred and bigotry are always dangerous enemies–and Olivia was encountering them.
On the way to saving herself–she fell in love. It was then she realized the true lesson of romance and friendship. If love is the art of shelter–maybe we can all become more cognizant of taking care of one another–sheltering one another.