The Laramie Project

“As far as the gay issue, I don’t give a damn one way or the other as long as they don’t bother me. And even if they did, I’d just say no thank you. And that’s the attitude of most of the Laramie population. They might poke one, if they were in a bar situation you know, they had been drinking, they might actually smack one in the mouth, but then they’d just walk away. Most of ‘em said they would just say, ‘I don’t swing that way,’ and whistle on about their business. Laramie is live and let live.” 

This is Marge Murray’s account of relations between Laramie’s straight residents and their LGBT neighbors. Although she says that most people don’t care about other people’s sexuality, the possibility of violence is ever-present. Thus, Marge’s words reveal a discrepancy between what people say and what they do. While most people would not express overtly homophobic opinions, they would react violently to any perceived pass made by a gay person. 

“The fact is… Laramie doesn’t have any gay bars… and for that matter neither does Wyoming.” 

This brief quote from Doc O’Connor points to the lack of visibility that LGBT life has in Wyoming. Although he is adamant that there are many gay people in Laramie and in Wyoming more generally, there is no space given to them. They are forced to go out of state to find partners or enjoy themselves safely, without the risk of violence. At home, they must pretend to be other than what they are. 

“I think that’s where he was heading, towards human rights. Which only adds to the irony and tragedy of this.”

Jon Peacock, Matthew’s academic advisor, reflects on the irony of the fact that Matthew wanted to work in the area of human rights, given that his murder was a hate crime. A person who, had he been allowed to live, might have made a difference to how LGBT people were treated or perceived, achieved that goal through his tragic death. 

“And she told me that there were other lesbians that she knew who wouldn’t be seen with me. That I would irreparably taint them, that just to be seen with me could be a problem.” 

This quotation from Catherine Connolly, the first “out” professor at the University of Wyoming, points to the oppressive atmosphere in which the LGBT community in Laramie lived. Here the “other lesbians” Catherine’s friend refers to police themselves and their behavior in order to stay safe and “untainted.”

I mean, imagine if more people stayed in small towns… But it’s easier said than done, of course.”

Similarly, Jonas Slonaker suggests that if more LGBT people stayed in small towns like Laramie, they could help to change people’s attitudes to homosexuality. However, he also acknowledges the risk they would take in staying in such places, as exemplified by what happened to Matthew Shepard. 

“[I]n 1870 Louisa Grandma Swain cast the first woman’s ballot in any free election in the world, and that’s why Wyoming is the Equality State.” 

Matt Mickelson, owner of The Fireside, explains why Wyoming is known as the Equality State. The irony of this is clear, given that after Matthew’s death Wyoming would become much more closely associated with hate crimes than with women’s suffrage and human rights.

“I was looking around and I noticed something—which ended up to be Matt, and he was just lying there by a fence, and I—I just thought it was a scarecrow… And, uh, got closer to him and I noticed his hair—and that was a major key to me, noticing it was a human being—was his hair…. I even noticed the chest going up and down. I still thought it was a dummy, you know…. But when I saw hair, well, I knew it was a human being.”

Aaron Kreifels’ description of Matthew’s body compares him to a scarecrow, a poignant image that highlights the dehumanizing effect of homophobic violence. Matthew’s hair seems an arbitrary detail upon which to hang his humanity, but then it is equally arbitrary and obscene to decide that a person’s sexuality makes them less human or less valuable than any other.

“Your first thought is…well certainly you’d like to think that it’s somebody from out of town.” 

The hope that whoever attacked Matthew is a stranger, someone from “out of town,” recurs throughout the play and suggests that the residents of Laramie want to distance themselves from the crime and its implications for their own community and sense of identity. 

“I would like to urge the people of Wyoming against overreacting in a way that gives one group ‘special rights over others.’” 

This quote is taken from the Wyoming Governor, Jim Geringer. He is responding to calls made in the aftermath of Matthew Shepard’s death for hate-crime legislation to address incidents like that in Laramie. Geringer suggests that any such legislation would give one group of people ‘special rights’. However, such legislation would actually put in place a framework to ensure that people were treated equally and that those—like LGBT people—who were more at risk of attack and discrimination were adequately protected. Geringer’s attitude expresses the idea that minority groups, rather than seeking equality, are actually seeking an advantage. This kind of logic thus positions minorities as enemies, reinforcing their difference from the “norm” and exacerbates prejudice towards them.

“Had this been a heterosexual, these two boys decided to take out and rob, this never would have made the national news. Now my son is guilty before he’s even had a trial.” 

Bill McKinney, Aaron’s father, argues that the murder of Matthew Shepard would not have been such a big story if Matthew weren’t gay. This is probably true. However, Mr. McKinney’s description of the crime as a robbery obscures the brutality of his son’s actions and attempts to make it something mundane. There is no evidence that Matthew’s sexual orientation prejudiced the way Aaron was treated by the police or in court.

“I wanted to lash out at somebody. Not at Matthew, please understand that, not one of us was mad at Matthew. But we maybe wanted to squeeze McKinney’s head off. And I think about Henderson. And, you know, two absolutely human beings cause so much grief for so many people.” 

This is Marge Murray describing her reaction to the news that her daughter, Reggie Fluty, may have been exposed to HIV while trying to save Matthew’s life. Her anger at McKinney and Henderson points to the fact that their actions have had far-reaching consequences for the whole community, not just Matthew. 

“‘You and the straight people of Laramie and Wyoming are guilty of the beating of Matthew Shepard just as the Germans who looked the other way are guilty of the deaths of the Jews, the Gypsies and the homosexuals. You have taught your straight children to hate their gay and lesbian brothers and sisters—unless and until you acknowledge that Matthew Shepard’s beating is not just a random occurrence, not just the work of a couple of random crazies, you have Matthew’s blood on your hands.’” 

This quotation is taken from an email sent to Philip Dubois, President of the University of Wyoming. It accuses the heterosexual people of Laramie of complicity in the murder of Matthew Shepard through their participation in or refusal to challenge homophobia in their society. While it is an interesting, if dramatic comparison to make, it is also an abstract view of the tragedy of Matthew’s death. Dubois rejects it on the basis that the author of the email doesn’t know, and cannot imagine, how Matthew’s death has affected the people of Laramie.

“Some people are saying he made a pass at them. You don’t pick up regular people. I’m not excusing their actions, but it made me feel better because it was partially Matthew Shepard’s fault and partially the guys who did it…you know maybe it’s fifty-fifty.” 

Murdock Cooper, a local rancher, suggests that if Matthew did make a pass at McKinney or Henderson, he is partly responsible for his own death. This, in turn, would mean that Cooper understands violence as the only possible way a straight man can respond to a romantic advance from a gay man. Cooper’s homophobia is evident in his description of straight people as “regular,” which positions LGBT people as “irregular” or abnormal. The relief Cooper feels at being able to assign Matthew part of the blame for his own murder suggests his unwillingness to examine his own attitudes to gay people, or even to feel much sympathy for them. 

“I mean basically what it boils down to: If I don’t tell you I’m a fag, you won’t beat the crap out of me. I mean, what’s so great about that?” 

Here, Jonas Slonaker unpicks the phrase “live and let live” that Marge Murray used to describe Laramie’s attitude to gay people. His use of the derogatory term “fag” reinforces the sense of barely-suppressed violence that underpins this philosophy. His analysis shows that a gay person must live as invisibly as possible—not admitting or expressing their identity—if they are to escape violence.

“[S]omeone got up there and said…let’s show the world Laramie is not this kind of town. But it is that kind of town, If it wasn’t this kind of town, why did this happen here?” 

Zubaida Ula, a young Muslim woman, challenges attempts by some Laramie residents to distance themselves from the attack on Matthew Shepard. While some people would prefer to reject the incident as an aberration or an isolated incident, Zubaida insists they must, in the wake of this tragedy, investigate exactly what kind of town Laramie is and why such a terrible thing happened “here.”

“And then I noticed the most incredible thing…as the parade came down the street…the number of people walking for Matthew Shepard had grown five times. There were at least 500 people marching for Matthew. 500 people. Can you imagine? The tag at the end was larger than the entire parade. And people kept joining in. And you know what? I started to cry. Tears were streaming down my face. And I thought. Thank God I got to see this in my lifetime. And my second thought was, ‘Thank you, Matthew.’” 

This quotation is taken from Harry Woods, a gay man in his fifties, as he watches the spontaneous march for Matthew on Homecoming Weekend. He is deeply moved by the show of support for a young gay man; it seems to give him hope. The implication, of course, is that Harry expected that no one would support or grieve for Matthew, hinting at the kinds of homophobic violence, physical or otherwise, he must have experienced in his lifetime. 

“What’s the difference if you’re gay? A hate crime is a hate crime. If you murder someone you hate ‘em. It has nothing to do with if you’re gay or a prostitute or whatever.” 

This rather bizarre piece of logic is taken from an interview with the wife of a patrolman. She resents the attention Matthew Shepard’s death has received, partly because she disagrees with his “lifestyle,” and partly because the death of a local patrolman, one of her husband’s colleagues, barely made the local news. She rejects the idea that there is such a thing as a hate crime, arguing that all crime, particularly murder, is motivated by hate. What this argument obscures is the fact that Aaron McKinney and Russell Henderson did not necessarily hate Matthew Shepard as an individual; they hated him because he was a gay man. This is why there is a need for legislation to protect people, such as LGBT people and sex workers, who are particular targets of violence.

“You think violence is what they did to Matthew—they did do violence to Matthew—but, you know, every time you are called a fag, or you are called a, you know, lez, or whatever…. Do you realize that is violence? That is the seed of violence.” 

This powerful quotation from Father Roger Schmit highlights the fact that violence is not exclusively physical. He argues that derogatory language is a form of violence too, one that often leads to greater violence. This is an extremely important point, as it explains why LGBT people need to be protected from discursive as well as physical attacks on their identities, the value of their selves, and their relationships. His recognition of this fact seems to be a relief to those members of the theatre company who are interviewing him, both of whom are “queer” (65), as an antidote to the various degrees of homophobia they have encountered during their time in Laramie. 

“Now, as for the victim, I know that that lifestyle is legal, but I will tell you one thing. I hope that Matthew Shepard as he was tied to that fence that he had time to reflect on a moment when someone had spoke the word of the Lord to him—and that before he slipped into a coma he had a chance to reflect on his lifestyle.” 

The Baptist Minister is one of the characters who shows the least amount of compassion or sympathy in the wake of Matthew’s death. From his perspective, it seems that Matthew’s life was practically forfeit as a result of his “lifestyle.” Indeed his use of the word “lifestyle” makes it seem that Matthew made a conscious decision to be gay, rather than recognizing that his sexual orientation was an innate part of his identity. 

“I think at times like this when we’re talking about hatred as much as the nation is right now, that somebody needs to show, that there is a better way of dealing with that kind of hatred.” 

Here, Romaine explains the reasoning behind her decision to stage a counter-protest to that of Reverend Fred Phelps at the trial of Russell Henderson. She wanted to silence the hateful speech of Phelps and his supporters without resorting to violence. She felt that such an approach was particularly timely in light of the national conversation about hatred and how to deal with expressions of hate in a peaceful but effective manner.

“Well, once we started working into the case, and speaking to the people that were gay and finding out what their underlying fears were, well, then it sort of hit home. This is America. You don’t have the right to feel that fear.” 

This quote is taken from Rob DeBree, the lead detective on Matthew Shepard’s case. He frames the issue of homophobia in terms of the fear it generates in LGBT people. This fear, he argues, is un-American. People should not have to live in fear. Discovering the degree to which the lives of LGBT people were controlled by fear made him determined to reject all forms of homophobia.

“When that defense team argued that McKinney did what he did because Matthew made a pass at him…I just wanted to vomit because that’s like saying that it’s okay.” 

These words are from Zackie Salmon, a lesbian resident of Laramie. She is overwhelmed when she learns that Aaron McKinney’s defense team will use “gay panic” as a means to justify or excuse his actions. She is faced with the prospect of Aaron being declared not guilty, of having her society condone homophobic violence. 

“I would like nothing better than to see you die, Mr. McKinney. However this is the time to begin the healing process. To show mercy to someone who refused to show any mercy. Mr. McKinney, I am going to grant you life, as hard as it is for me to do so, because of Matthew. Every time you celebrate Christmas, a birthday, the Fourth of July remember that Matt isn’t. Every time you wake up in your prison cell remember that you had the opportunity and the ability to stop your actions that night. You robbed me of something very precious and I will never forgive you for that. Mr. McKinney, I give you life in the memory of one who no longer lives. May you have a long life and may you thank Matthew every day for it.” 

This quotation is one of the most powerful moments in the play and is an excerpt from Dennis Shepard’s statement, given at the trial of Aaron McKinney. While Matthew’s father expresses a desire for revenge—he would like to see McKinney die—he chooses to set an example of mercy, in the hopes that it will help him and his family heal. There is also a hope that in granting McKinney life in Matthew’s name might force Aaron to comprehend the extent of his crime. Dennis Shepard’s desire for mercy and healing echoes Romaine Patterson’s desire for a new, peaceful way to counteract hatred.