RICHARD KOOB

NEW YORK CITY GAY LIBERATION FRONT

Richard Koob by unknown, circa 1970.

Richard Koob is an early participant in the modern LGBTQ+ rights movement whose life reflects a profound intersection of political activism, artistic expression, and community-based healing. Raised in the rural Midwest, Richard left his small Minnesota hometown for New York City, where he became involved with the Gay Liberation Front in the wake of the Stonewall uprising. Though not physically present at the rebellion itself, he played a significant role in its aftermath—printing flyers, organizing dances, and helping to coordinate the first Christopher Street Liberation Day March in 1970.

Richard’s activism extended beyond the boundaries of New York. Alongside fellow GLF members, he embarked on a formative journey through the American South, visiting fledgling gay organizations, confronting systemic repression, and affirming the transformative power of queer community. As a dancer who performed internationally and a longtime resident of Hawaii, Koob channeled his political commitments into Kalani, a retreat center he co-founded that continues to serve as a sanctuary for healing, artistic exploration, and chosen family.

— August Bernadicou, Executive Director of The LGBTQ History Project

“I grew up in a little village called Iona in Minnesota. It's named after an island off the coast of Scotland. I can always say I own a village, but we didn’t own anything. It's just Iona, with only about 365 people, and only 11 people in my class at school.

Everybody knows everything about everyone. It was interesting because I was out in a way. I had three older brothers and two younger sisters. I was always involved with both genders, playing with both my sisters and my brothers. My aunts and uncles lived just a block away. We grew up farming.

I realized I was gay when I was seven years old. I had a Catholic upbringing, and catechism was laid on us. It was awful. I was touch-friendly with a friend and also with the animals and calves on the farm. I thought I was going to go to Hell for being sensual with animals. I had a breakdown. It made me realize that I have to stand up for my feelings, and going to Hell was bogus.

I had two kinds of lives at this point. One is that I was out to my friend Johnny, who lived in the neighborhood, but I wasn’t out to the public. Coming out came later when I was finishing college in Germany. I had a friend named Darryl from South Africa, and we had our first sexual experiences with each other. This was 1969. I started acknowledging that I was out.

Richard Koob by unknown, circa 1970.

Later, when I was a pre-med student at Columbia University in New York, I had a boyfriend in my class. I had the opportunity to go to Cuba, and I said, ‘I don't think this immersion in the studies and everything it's going to take to become an MD is really where my passion is.’ I would rather just connect with people socially, anyway. The chance to visit Cuba was, like, wow, I get to experience a tropical country, including its people and its culture, and meet other Americans who are progressive, coming from such diverse backgrounds. I submitted an application. There were 80 of us who were chosen, and we actually had funding that covered our airfare. We boarded the planes and went to Havana, where we spent months. Fidel Castro showed up on Christmas. He was like our Santa Claus with a beard and everything. We all ate Cuban ice cream with him. He talked forever about the revolution. We also got to go and see prisons and places like where Che Guevara was imprisoned. We met with Cubanos and Cubanas, who were a part of the camp. I thought, well, this could be a great adventure, and it's interesting because I have a chance to decide what I want to do with my life.

After Cuba, I moved back to New York City. I was not really a frequenter of the Stonewall because I was not into alcohol and bars. At this point, we were hosting dances at Alternate U, which provided space for us to hold dances. That's where my focus was, rather than the Stonewall. I was at Stonewall the following year, passing out flyers for the first march.

I was working in an underground literary press in a basement in Soho when it was all industrial. We printed materials for the Black Panthers; the Young Lords, a Latino radical group; and the Gay Liberation Front. I printed flyers for the first Pride march.

At the Gay Liberation Front meetings, we discussed the political issues of the time. We felt like we were a progressive social movement. The meetings could be contentious. They were a chance for people to share their coming out stories, express what they were going through, the drama in our relationships and with our parents, and all the things that shaped us. It was transformative. Communication is the essence of community. By sharing and communicating with each other, we really bonded.

With five other people, led by Jim Fouratt, we rented a VW van and drove to the South. We went to various campuses and meeting spots. More repression and oppression were happening there. We socialized, met people, and interacted with small organizations that were just getting started, encouraging people to be active.

Our last stop was the first gay liberation conference in Austin, Texas. Cops stopped us and put us in the clink. We spent three nights in jail. There were 40 other people in the cell. It was really harrowing for us. It made me feel like I never wanted to end up in jail again.

The next thing we did was go North. We went to my family's place in Minnesota. My dad was showing us—we went out to practice hunting and shooting at cans. We were talking about being revolutionaries. We had to act like them, and then I realized being a violent revolutionary was hopeless. This event helped me realize that through the arts, through my writing, through love and sharing and community living, that is the way we will have to adopt to move forward. It was life-transforming. It really made me feel that it's important to speak for what you believe is true and honest and right and loving.”