This Isn’t About Flags
As a public official, a parent, and a neighbor, I believe that one of the most powerful things a town can do is reflect the people who live there. Not just in policy, but in spirit.
That’s why flags matter. Not because they solve every challenge but because they are one of the few things that speak without words. A flag raised on a town pole says we see you. We celebrate you. You are part of us.
This week, the Manchester Selectboard voted to limit which flags can fly on municipal property. Going forward, only three are allowed: the American, Vermont, and town flags.
That vote might seem neutral. But it came after two community members, one of whom is a current Selectboard member, asked to raise the Pride flag. Their requests were denied. Then, the board changed the rules, closing the door on all future flag requests. That includes long-standing traditions like flying the Irish flag on St. Patrick's Day.
Manchester has flown the Irish flag every St. Patrick's Day for years, a gesture of cultural pride honoring generations of Irish American families who helped shape this town. The board formally approved that practice in perpetuity. Now, it is prohibited.
This policy did not just respond to a moment. It erased a tradition, and with it, the board sent a message that visibility for anyone is too risky to allow.
This was likely a difficult vote for some board members. I believe everyone on the board cares deeply about this town and truly wants it to be a place where all feel they belong. These are good people who have offered their time and energy in service of the public, and I don't doubt their commitment to our community. Still, even well-meant decisions can cause harm. This is a moment for all of us to pause and consider the difference between our intentions and the impact felt by our neighbors.
But that silence carries its own risk.
According to the 2023 Youth Risk Behavior Survey, 49 percent of LGBTQ+ high school students in Vermont who did not feel they mattered to people in their community reported making a suicide plan in the past year. Among those who did feel they mattered, that number dropped to 16 percent.
That is not just data. That is a warning. And it applies to more than one group. When a town decides that the safest path forward is to recognize no one, celebrate no one, and reflect no one's identity, it becomes a place where fewer people see themselves in the story. That does not build unity. It builds silence.
Other communities have faced this same challenge and responded with care. After the Supreme Court ruled in Shurtleff v. City of Boston that Boston's flag-raising policy needed clearer boundaries, the city did not ban flags altogether. Instead, it created a process. Groups can still request flags, and approval is granted through a City Council vote or a mayoral proclamation. It didn't take banning expression to maintain fairness — it took thoughtful policy.
If one day, a flag rooted in hate is approved and raised, that will not be a failure of the flag policy. It will be a failure of our elected leaders to stand up for what is right. A good policy should invite transparency, deliberation, and accountability — not silence.
Manchester could have done the same. We could have responded to community interest with creativity and clarity. We could have chosen inclusion. Instead, we chose absence.
I am raising four kids here. I serve on our town's Planning Commission and regional tech school board. I believe in this town's future and in its capacity to grow more welcoming, more open, and more connected to the people who call it home.
We do not need to have all the answers right now. But we can be the kind of community that listens, that learns, and that doesn't shut the door on each other. We can choose to create a path forward that reflects the best of who we are and who we hope to become.
Flags may be small, but the messages they carry are not
