The Day After The Election
To whom it may concern,
I had to drink last night. There was just too much of my future that was riding on in this election. So after pretending to study for 4 hours while peeping in on election results online I gave up and went to a bar. It was crowded and we got rowdy drinking to escape harm like the scared boy behind the fence of his school afraid of what lay ahead to walk home. Afraid of bottles being thrown at him and shouts of "faggot" coming from cars. The me of 5 years ago. But now I am 21 and drank to escape the yes on 8 vote that I knew was coming to strip me of my marriage rights. Like the incarceration and police brutality towards my mothers fighting for the right to vote, like the inevitable spray of water from fire trucks blasting against the face of my ancestors fighting for equality in the civil rights movement, like the sacrificial bullet coming from coats of red swiftly towards my heart in order to found this beautiful country on principles of liberty and justice, I took a shot of vodka. A shot to seal the battle lost. I drank for all my fellow GBLTQ family across the country in other states... who had already experienced defeat in being able to adopt children or being able to marry. We all drank to escape.
And then I woke up to the sobering end result and I am here. The coffee not strong enough to keep my mind oiled. I have a test in two hours but I am left with this void. My mind is this vacant cage with rubber bars that can't hold any information that I try to place in it. It is bruised and beaten down with hurt - this headache is something I wish I could blame on alcohol but it comes from none other than disappointment - a far stronger drink. So to clear this head I will write for what I believe in since my vote could not do so. This day feels like a cold 7th grade day at recess with no one to turn to but my journal.
And I am left shaking.
Shuddering here thinking about the number of people I know back home who I went to school with and the number of people in my family who likely voted yes on 8. Who voted to take away my rights to uphold their own privilege. Who believed the lies in the commercials that tried to cover up the one word missing in the language of the proposition - Discrimination.
And I am angry.
Angry at the number of my "friends" who couldn't find time to vote at all. Who didn't care enough to register or to vote when they are citizens of this country. Who didn't think their voice counted when the vote came down to so little. Of my many heterosexual friends who benefit from their majority status and completely accept me but who choose not to stand up for me. I blame you. For not listening to my pleas for help, you are responsible. Just like how you ignored the bruises on my skin or my puffy blood-shot eyes in class knowing what had just happened to me. You are not my friends.
And I understand.
Like the battered wife giving into another knee to the stomach from her husband's drunken rage I know what it's like to feel afraid to leave when all we have ever known is helplessness. So many of my fellow GBLTQ friends didn't vote. After years of being kicked into the ground with brutal beatings and bigoted epithets I know how hard it is to have any voice left... to even try to stand up for yourself. We the unheard minority worth nothing but a laugh on a sitcom or to help your women look beautiful. We who have been driven to cities and alcohol and drugs and empty sex and condoms to make the world feel beautiful and ourselves valuable in clubs thick with pounding music and neon lights that hides our bruises. And those who shy away and feel comfortable in dirty closets and attend church with wife and children on Sunday morning praying for lies. We all are the product of discrimination. And we have been beaten again today.
And I am disgusted.
Disgusted with how more people cared more to vote to give chickens better cage space but voted with malice and ignorance at who I choose to love.
And so I will scream.
I will set my drink down and I will clear my head and put up my fist high and we will raise our voice up to heaven and the Supreme Court of this land and pray out loud for equality. Like the movements of the past we will not stop until it is a reality. For all those trodden down we will and must fight this not for ourselves but for the 7th grader hoping to one day marry the person he or she loves regardless of their partner's gender. We are fighting for families struggling to stay together and for our GBLTQ predecessors who fought to get us this far. We will gather our allies together and we will work for a better future. We will defeat apathy. We will defend equality. We must stop thinking in the short term and set our eyes to higher goals. A new generation is coming and they understand the truth.
And we will win. History tells us this. Our constitution demands this. We demand this. I do.
Sincerely,
Kevin Goodman
I had to drink last night. There was just too much of my future that was riding on in this election. So after pretending to study for 4 hours while peeping in on election results online I gave up and went to a bar. It was crowded and we got rowdy drinking to escape harm like the scared boy behind the fence of his school afraid of what lay ahead to walk home. Afraid of bottles being thrown at him and shouts of "faggot" coming from cars. The me of 5 years ago. But now I am 21 and drank to escape the yes on 8 vote that I knew was coming to strip me of my marriage rights. Like the incarceration and police brutality towards my mothers fighting for the right to vote, like the inevitable spray of water from fire trucks blasting against the face of my ancestors fighting for equality in the civil rights movement, like the sacrificial bullet coming from coats of red swiftly towards my heart in order to found this beautiful country on principles of liberty and justice, I took a shot of vodka. A shot to seal the battle lost. I drank for all my fellow GBLTQ family across the country in other states... who had already experienced defeat in being able to adopt children or being able to marry. We all drank to escape.
And then I woke up to the sobering end result and I am here. The coffee not strong enough to keep my mind oiled. I have a test in two hours but I am left with this void. My mind is this vacant cage with rubber bars that can't hold any information that I try to place in it. It is bruised and beaten down with hurt - this headache is something I wish I could blame on alcohol but it comes from none other than disappointment - a far stronger drink. So to clear this head I will write for what I believe in since my vote could not do so. This day feels like a cold 7th grade day at recess with no one to turn to but my journal.
And I am left shaking.
Shuddering here thinking about the number of people I know back home who I went to school with and the number of people in my family who likely voted yes on 8. Who voted to take away my rights to uphold their own privilege. Who believed the lies in the commercials that tried to cover up the one word missing in the language of the proposition - Discrimination.
And I am angry.
Angry at the number of my "friends" who couldn't find time to vote at all. Who didn't care enough to register or to vote when they are citizens of this country. Who didn't think their voice counted when the vote came down to so little. Of my many heterosexual friends who benefit from their majority status and completely accept me but who choose not to stand up for me. I blame you. For not listening to my pleas for help, you are responsible. Just like how you ignored the bruises on my skin or my puffy blood-shot eyes in class knowing what had just happened to me. You are not my friends.
And I understand.
Like the battered wife giving into another knee to the stomach from her husband's drunken rage I know what it's like to feel afraid to leave when all we have ever known is helplessness. So many of my fellow GBLTQ friends didn't vote. After years of being kicked into the ground with brutal beatings and bigoted epithets I know how hard it is to have any voice left... to even try to stand up for yourself. We the unheard minority worth nothing but a laugh on a sitcom or to help your women look beautiful. We who have been driven to cities and alcohol and drugs and empty sex and condoms to make the world feel beautiful and ourselves valuable in clubs thick with pounding music and neon lights that hides our bruises. And those who shy away and feel comfortable in dirty closets and attend church with wife and children on Sunday morning praying for lies. We all are the product of discrimination. And we have been beaten again today.
And I am disgusted.
Disgusted with how more people cared more to vote to give chickens better cage space but voted with malice and ignorance at who I choose to love.
And so I will scream.
I will set my drink down and I will clear my head and put up my fist high and we will raise our voice up to heaven and the Supreme Court of this land and pray out loud for equality. Like the movements of the past we will not stop until it is a reality. For all those trodden down we will and must fight this not for ourselves but for the 7th grader hoping to one day marry the person he or she loves regardless of their partner's gender. We are fighting for families struggling to stay together and for our GBLTQ predecessors who fought to get us this far. We will gather our allies together and we will work for a better future. We will defeat apathy. We will defend equality. We must stop thinking in the short term and set our eyes to higher goals. A new generation is coming and they understand the truth.
And we will win. History tells us this. Our constitution demands this. We demand this. I do.
Sincerely,
Kevin Goodman