It’s been a long haul, but our President evolved this week (with a boost from the Veep) to the point where he said yeah, same-sex couples should have the right to marry. The joy, nay – the GLEE! on the part of myself and my fellow queerfolks, as well as progressives generally, is understandable. A tortured position in favor of civil unions, “separate but equal” in all but name, obviously wasn’t tenable.
So he’s said it. Of course, nothing substantively changed, but as Andrew Sullivan reported late in the week (and Olympia diaried earlier today) GOP pollsters and advisors also evolved at warp speed this week. Did Mitt Romney read this memo before delivering the Commencement Address at Liberty University this morning? Maybe not, but his minions did, and perhaps that’s why he refrained from tossing more than a meatball out to this crowd that was hoping for steak tartare. Perhaps this isn’t time to toss out the quotes about “Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve” after all.
So on the one hand, it’s great news. But on the other, I’ve been a bit pensive about it all week, too. Zip below the elegant Cheeto to explore MFP.
But first, a word from our sponsors:
WYFP is our community's Saturday evening gathering to talk about our problems, empathize with one another, and share advice, pootie pictures, favorite adult beverages, and anything else that we think might help. Everyone and all sorts of troubles are welcome. May we find peace and healing here. Won't you please share the joy of WYFP by recommending?
I had a discussion awhile back with a black man in his 30s, on staff at a black church in a city nearby - I don't even remember which city now. I didn't know him well - he was an acquaintance of a mutual friend who I would sometimes grab coffee with from time to time. He seemed a little edgy, ill at ease at times in our company. When black folks are edgy, I tend to take notice and get worried – not about them, but about me. What am I missing? What am I not seeing? That blinding white privilege that sits on my face – what is it keeping me from noticing or causing me to do?
A bit of an answer came soon. A friend asked how this guy’s church was handling the debates around marriage equality in his city. He was silent. Silent. And then he spoke.
His pastor, he said, believes that marriage is instituted by God as something that’s to be between a man and a woman. That is also what their church teaches their members. Nevertheless, when Prop 8 and related battles were roiling the state and forcing people to take public stands one way or another, his pastor had put his own reputation and that of his church on the line, stepping forward to oppose the initiative to ban same-sex marriage. Many people in the church had been upset, other black church leaders were confused and concerned, and no doubt the decision the pastor made was the result of no trivial amount of his own inner struggle.
He took a stand, and when he did so, he was joined by several local gay and lesbian leaders, praising him for his contribution and thanking him for joining the cause. It was a watershed moment for crosscultural alliances in their city.
But then a few weeks later, other issues came up that directly affected the black community in the city. The churches and community organizations were struggling to gain visibility, support, and resources and to get any sort of momentum on the issues. The pastor called the gay and lesbian community leaders who had been standing with him with his statement on marriage equality, knowing that they could reach out to their own constituencies and get the message out to others, especially since in our area, the gay and lesbian community enjoys pretty significant levels of social – and fiscal – capital.
Silence.
I could hear the pain – or was it thinly-veiled anger, which is really so close to the same thing – as this man spoke of how his church, his pastor, he himself felt burned, felt used by the lesbian and gay community in the city. Taking the risk of speaking for marriage equality was not without consequence. Prophets always draw the worst of the blowback, which is why we see precious few of them anymore. His church, this community, stood up for a cause not their own, because the pastor took a leap of faith that carried him right over expediency, right over fear, right over the consequences he knew he’d face. He knew it would be hard, but he also knew it was the right thing to do.
He never counted on being abandoned by those he’d stood up to support. But now I suspect he knows better. I know, I KNOW that the guy I was listening to learned a lesson from the incident too.
In my running list of wrongs I’ve committed, a la My Name is Earl, is that I said nothing to my him after that discussion. The conversation ended a few minutes later when a couple of us had to head off to a meeting. He went out one door, I stopped to chat with another friend, and the opportunity passed. I could’ve found the friend anytime, but it was convenient to see him then, convenient especially because it meant I didn’t have to walk over to that man and say “I’m sorry.” Not “I don’t live in your city and didn’t know about this, so it obviously had nothing to do with me, but I’m sorry,” or “I’d have done something differently had I known, but I’m sorry” – no, just “I’m sorry.” And then maybe “What can I do to help with what your community was facing?” Not "How can I repair the damage?" - that's self-serving. That's not the point. They needed us. We weren't there.
Which brings me to President Obama’s evolution, to the leaked memo from the GOP pollster, and to the dramatically shifting tide of public opinion regarding the propriety of marriage between people of the same sex. I really think that game is over now. Even with the shadow of North Carolina and Amendment One last week, even with the evangelical leaders declaring Obama’s announcement as “a gift for Mitt Romney” – it’s done. The other side may score a few points still, but the clock is ticking on that particular match, and there’s not enough time for the other side to regain the lead.
My FP this week? Queer folks didn’t get this far on our own. The six or so percent of the population that we comprise didn’t win any elections, didn’t stage any coup that enabled us to topple homophobia and fear with our own bare hands. The work of hundreds, then thousands, then tens and hundreds of thousands of other people, standing up to say “this is discrimination, and it is unjust” is what turned the tide. In many cases, those of you who did so have no real skin in the game. This isn’t your fight, not your personal cross to bear, truly. You stepped forward and made calls and voted and talked with your family, neighbors, and friends because it was the right thing to do. I know more straight people with those HRC "Equality" stickers on their cars than I do queer folks who have them around.
So – we won. Sure, the final whistle isn’t blown and we need to watch for late hits and such, but lots of folks are heading to their cars to beat the rush, to avoid traffic on the way back home. There’s celebrating to do, after all, for a job well done.
What, then, of the people who began this struggle long, long before us? Will our big gay and lesbian organizations take their substantial resources and mailing lists and deploy them full force in favor of the human rights of young men of color who are more likely to end up in jail or in the morgue than in college or on a cruise? Will the donors who show up at tony cocktail parties and leave behind large checks do so when the cause is a crumbling public school infrastructure and the collapse of the social safety net that provides breakfast and lunch to kids during the summer?
Or will they – will we – say, “Hey, that’s not my f*cking problem. Sorry.” Or “Lots of them didn’t support us on this, so they’re on their own now. Too bad, so sad – that’s their f*cking problem.”
No. We're classier than that, especially here at the GOS. (I can't speak for what some of those big organizations will or will not do, but suffice it to say I'm Not a Fan of the most famous one, no, not at all.) We do get up and stand up for one another, whether it's our fight or not. At least we do when we remember.
My FP? I'm afraid we'll forget. I'm afraid that I'll privilege my own fight for justice over the struggles faced by my sisters and brothers. It's truly all one march toward justice. We can't stop now. And that, my friends, is my f*cking problem tonight. (That, and sciatica - which is truly a pain in the ass.) And you?