I’m a little late to this (that’s what happens when you work third shift and barely have time to eat and sleep, I guess). But when I stumbled upon this, I couldn’t help but share it.
I wrote a diary last week about a TV interview with the leading marriage equality opponent in the New York state senate, Pentecostal minister Ruben Diaz. I briefly mentioned his lesbian granddaughter, since he brought her up in an attempt to paint himself as something other than a raging homophobe. Well, that lesbian granddaughter, Erica Diaz, has spoken out in an op-ed for the New York Post (yeah, I know, ewwwwww, the New York Post…the op-ed is a good one, though).
Ruben Diaz was on a Spanish-language radio show back in April, where he was joined by a priest. The priest said that “gay people are worthy of death.” Words that even many on the Religious Right would probably try to back away from, or at least dilute (“all sinners are worthy of death,” after all). But Diaz, knowing full well that his granddaughter was a lesbian, said nothing.
This time it was not his words that hurt me. It was his silence.
My grandfather, state Sen. Rev. Ruben Diaz, spoke about marriage equality on a Spanish radio station in April. He was joined on the airwaves by a priest who said, "Gay people are worthy of death."
Papa didn't say anything. I was shattered.
I’ll never understand how some people can do this to their own flesh and blood – to somebody they’ve watched from diapers to adulthood. Diaz’s extremism when it comes to the equality issue is one thing, but to be so outspoken and so extreme when his own granddaughter is so hurt by his words (and, in this case, lack of words) is just baffling to me.
She continues:
I am the gay granddaughter of Albany's most outspoken marriage-equality opponent. Until now, out of love, I closeted my feelings about my family's patriarch, who has so vehemently denounced gay rights.
But my grandfather should know that as he continues to skewer the marriage-equality bill on the radio, television and in newspapers, I am listening and reading.
She also talks about how Diaz has used her to portray himself as “loving” gay people despite opposing their basic rights. This is what really sickens me about Diaz, to the core. Not just that he opposes his granddaughter’s equality, but that he uses her to soften his image as an anti-gay zealot.
I was 16 years old when I sat my mom down and told her I was a lesbian. She told me that she loved me and accepted me.
[…]
I never told my grandfather.
Three years later I was watching grandpa do a TV interview. "I'm not homophobic. I have gay family members. I have a gay granddaughter."
When she confronted her grandfather, he told her: “You’re my granddaughter and I love you. I don’t agree with it, but I respect you.”
I've heard that one before. I think this op-ed struck me so much because I can relate to it on some level. None of my relatives are actively leading the charge in state government against my equality. But this is the kind of conditional “love” I’ve received from most of my family. The kind of love that says: “Well, I love you, but I don’t like your lifestyle. I don’t like the choice you’ve made.” Some family members just don’t talk to me anymore. I don’t know what is more painful – being cut off or getting the “love the sinner” treatment. We just don’t talk about it. They know I’m gay, and I know they oppose homosexuality and don’t think I deserve equal rights. It doesn’t need to be said, even though it occasionally slips out. So much for love being unconditional.
Erica Diaz moves on to her feelings on her grandfather’s crusade against marriage equality – a crusade that directly affects her in the here-and-now.
When I was younger, marriage equality was not an issue for me. But now, as my grandfather ceaselessly and callously comments on the issue, each and every word stings, since I live with my girlfriend of 2½ years, Naomi Torres, and our two sons, Jared and Jeremiah Munoz.
This fight is personal.
My family deserves the same benefits as others. Naomi -- whom I would like to marry -- should be able to do things that straight married people take for granted, like make a decision for me if I'm sick.
She then addresses her appearance last month at Diaz’s anti-gay hate rally, which upset many in the gay community.
I decided to show up at his rally last month on the steps of the Bronx County Courthouse so that he could face a person he loved, a person who was gay, as he spoke against us.
That day I waded through the religious crowd and saw children as young as mine say hateful things. "You're not God's child. One man, one woman. You're not living by God."
[…]
My grandfather introduced me to the crowd and kissed me on the forehead. "This is my granddaughter," he said. "She chose her way of life, but I chose God's way, but I love her."
She ends the op-ed strongly:
You cannot tell someone that you love them and stay silent when people call for their death. "Love" is empty when you say someone's life isn't natural.
He could quietly vote "no" if that's what he believes is right. But I want him to know that every word he utters hurts his own blood.
Will this have an effect on Ruben Diaz? Probably not. I suppose there is a small chance, but I don’t think there’s much of a possibility of getting through to him. Just like I’m not holding my breath on my own family changing their views. One can hope, though. If more people could take off their bigoted blinders and see beyond their religious ideologies – to see the pain they’ve inflicted and will continue to inflict on their LGBT loved ones – then maybe. Bigotry and ideology are powerful things. But if Diaz doesn’t care about the other gay and lesbian people in New York, I hope he really thinks hard about what he’s doing to his own family.