More on Prop 8
I know that the internet is buzzing with commentary on the recent (narrow) success of Prop 8 (I'm on the internet, aren't I?), but in the words of Jerry Blank, "I've got somethin' to say!"
I also know that many of the people who read my lj (oh god, please let it be all of you), oppose proposition 8, and similar "hate legislation." Preaching to the quire is not my style, nor has it ever been, yet I feel the need to address this issue in what I feel is a unique way, with a story that I think is slightly askew from the paradigm. After all, it is my right to do so in this public forum, at least until some equally disdainful proposition to revoke that right comes to fruition.
While I do not expect my words to alter the chemical states of your minds, or even your perception of this particular atrocity, I do carry in my heart, the hope that someone out there will pass this story on to someone they love, whom he or she feels is in need of a change of heart, and has lacked the resources or words to provide that change, until now. A change of heart is what the people need now. Nay, a change of lots of hearts, because this is a matter of the heart, first and foremost. It is about your heart, and it is about my heart, and it is about the hearts of all those voters who are in a position to revoke a heart's right to connect with whomever's heart their heart chooses.
The curtain rises, and the story begins with a lone player: myself. I have never been what one would call a fervent supporter of gay marriage. I have often said that "the word marriage is soiled with expectation and the limitations of religion and traditions. If we truly seek change that will lead to a brighter tomorrow, let us strive for a new goal that is equal but varied from what has been stale and sullied for far too long as a source of pain for our families. Let us demand that our families be recognized as families, but also as a symbol of a people's ability to surmount adversities and usher in the new dawn of enlightened understanding." Those who know me best might tell you that the direct quote is less eloquent, but the feeling and message persist.
I am strong supporter of a people's right to do as they wish, provided it does not cause harm or hindrance to others and their aspirations. I do believe that when the monarchy of England said to her people, "this is my country, and I make the rules; when you have your own country you can make your own rules, but until then you will live by my rules while you reside under this roof," and the people set off to discover a new world, they did so with the intention that no man or woman should ever have to hear the utterance of that sentiment again, and upon that intention this great nation (and yes, I did say great nation, because I do believe that we once deserved that title, and I have hope that we will again one day deserve that title) was founded. Most of all, I believe that the primary goal of our forefathers (and foremothers) was to create a nation where all of it's children would have a chance to decide what those rules would be, and hoped that with that responsibility would come a respect that would prevent men and women from creating rules that would remove another's rights to do just as each and every man and woman had, until that time, to do as they wish, provided that it did not cause harm or hindrance to another man or woman or their aspirations.
Tonight, my heart crossed a proverbial pacific on a ship to rival the Mayflower, but landed on a Plymouth Rock of despair. When I came across the small group of protesters seated in the intersection of Castro St., and 18th St., I discovered a voice in myself that I had not yet heard, because I, like much of America, was too busy to listen. When I saw two mothers, and two children with a sign reading, "Just another family seeking equality," I didn't see two women wanting marriage. I saw four people just wanting a nation of harpies to stop telling them, "different does not belong," and two of them innocent children, victimized by what I would call a very unchristian hate. When I saw a group of people singing "We Shall Overcome," I did not see a angry zealots revolting against their fathers for trying to marry them off to wealthy doctors, and mothers who perpetually nag about grandkids. I saw a positive, forward-thinking community, who are finally saying, "we are being wronged, and, because the world and it's denizens are inherently good, this too shall pass, and we will wait here until it does."
All of those people, and still others that you might encounter each day have stories, and those stories are the ones that Madeleine L'Engle spoke of when she said, "We turn to stories and pictures and music because they show us who and what and why we are, and what our relationship is to life and death, what is essential, and what, despite the arbitrariness of falling beams, will not burn." Love does not burn into ash, and it will not be brushed aside with the morning rubbish. Neither does hope. Both are vital to our survival in a time where so much can cause us to turn away from the path we are on. If you take away our love and our hope, we are nothing more than drones in a hive with little or no personal sense of value, and value is a thing that I have discovered again tonight. "Everything is a part of IT," says Tom Robbins, and that everything includes most definitely the people of the world.
If you stayed in your home tonight because you are already married, or you do not wish to ever be married, you are failing yourself. If you allow a government to take away a basic right of it's people you do yourself a disservice.
All my life, I have felt as though there is nothing left to fight for. We have equal rights for all races. We have women's suffrage. We allow our women to choose if they are prepared to give birth. What is left to fight for? This is our moment to shine. This is the battle of our generation. This achievement, like all others, is about itself, but primarily about the achievements that have come before. If you allow your government to revoke the right of any man or woman to marry the man or woman of his or her choice, there is no precedent to say that a woman's uterus is not subject to the discretion of a state court; There will be no person in the way of revoking Gloria Steinem's right to vote, Oprah's right to voice her opinion or Obama's right to the presidency. White men and Black men could return to the days when each drank from separate fountains. That is what "separate but equal" will lead to. We are all people, and people, deserve to share the same rights. There is no question. Acknowledge all or acknowledge none. There is no "in-between."
It is time to stand up and say that you are human. It is time to demand your human rights. Nothing less will be accepted. Let us all drink from the same fountain...the fountain of knowledge of good and evil, and evil is the name of discrimination.
"Be the difference you want to see." - Ghandi
I also know that many of the people who read my lj (oh god, please let it be all of you), oppose proposition 8, and similar "hate legislation." Preaching to the quire is not my style, nor has it ever been, yet I feel the need to address this issue in what I feel is a unique way, with a story that I think is slightly askew from the paradigm. After all, it is my right to do so in this public forum, at least until some equally disdainful proposition to revoke that right comes to fruition.
While I do not expect my words to alter the chemical states of your minds, or even your perception of this particular atrocity, I do carry in my heart, the hope that someone out there will pass this story on to someone they love, whom he or she feels is in need of a change of heart, and has lacked the resources or words to provide that change, until now. A change of heart is what the people need now. Nay, a change of lots of hearts, because this is a matter of the heart, first and foremost. It is about your heart, and it is about my heart, and it is about the hearts of all those voters who are in a position to revoke a heart's right to connect with whomever's heart their heart chooses.
The curtain rises, and the story begins with a lone player: myself. I have never been what one would call a fervent supporter of gay marriage. I have often said that "the word marriage is soiled with expectation and the limitations of religion and traditions. If we truly seek change that will lead to a brighter tomorrow, let us strive for a new goal that is equal but varied from what has been stale and sullied for far too long as a source of pain for our families. Let us demand that our families be recognized as families, but also as a symbol of a people's ability to surmount adversities and usher in the new dawn of enlightened understanding." Those who know me best might tell you that the direct quote is less eloquent, but the feeling and message persist.
I am strong supporter of a people's right to do as they wish, provided it does not cause harm or hindrance to others and their aspirations. I do believe that when the monarchy of England said to her people, "this is my country, and I make the rules; when you have your own country you can make your own rules, but until then you will live by my rules while you reside under this roof," and the people set off to discover a new world, they did so with the intention that no man or woman should ever have to hear the utterance of that sentiment again, and upon that intention this great nation (and yes, I did say great nation, because I do believe that we once deserved that title, and I have hope that we will again one day deserve that title) was founded. Most of all, I believe that the primary goal of our forefathers (and foremothers) was to create a nation where all of it's children would have a chance to decide what those rules would be, and hoped that with that responsibility would come a respect that would prevent men and women from creating rules that would remove another's rights to do just as each and every man and woman had, until that time, to do as they wish, provided that it did not cause harm or hindrance to another man or woman or their aspirations.
Tonight, my heart crossed a proverbial pacific on a ship to rival the Mayflower, but landed on a Plymouth Rock of despair. When I came across the small group of protesters seated in the intersection of Castro St., and 18th St., I discovered a voice in myself that I had not yet heard, because I, like much of America, was too busy to listen. When I saw two mothers, and two children with a sign reading, "Just another family seeking equality," I didn't see two women wanting marriage. I saw four people just wanting a nation of harpies to stop telling them, "different does not belong," and two of them innocent children, victimized by what I would call a very unchristian hate. When I saw a group of people singing "We Shall Overcome," I did not see a angry zealots revolting against their fathers for trying to marry them off to wealthy doctors, and mothers who perpetually nag about grandkids. I saw a positive, forward-thinking community, who are finally saying, "we are being wronged, and, because the world and it's denizens are inherently good, this too shall pass, and we will wait here until it does."
All of those people, and still others that you might encounter each day have stories, and those stories are the ones that Madeleine L'Engle spoke of when she said, "We turn to stories and pictures and music because they show us who and what and why we are, and what our relationship is to life and death, what is essential, and what, despite the arbitrariness of falling beams, will not burn." Love does not burn into ash, and it will not be brushed aside with the morning rubbish. Neither does hope. Both are vital to our survival in a time where so much can cause us to turn away from the path we are on. If you take away our love and our hope, we are nothing more than drones in a hive with little or no personal sense of value, and value is a thing that I have discovered again tonight. "Everything is a part of IT," says Tom Robbins, and that everything includes most definitely the people of the world.
If you stayed in your home tonight because you are already married, or you do not wish to ever be married, you are failing yourself. If you allow a government to take away a basic right of it's people you do yourself a disservice.
All my life, I have felt as though there is nothing left to fight for. We have equal rights for all races. We have women's suffrage. We allow our women to choose if they are prepared to give birth. What is left to fight for? This is our moment to shine. This is the battle of our generation. This achievement, like all others, is about itself, but primarily about the achievements that have come before. If you allow your government to revoke the right of any man or woman to marry the man or woman of his or her choice, there is no precedent to say that a woman's uterus is not subject to the discretion of a state court; There will be no person in the way of revoking Gloria Steinem's right to vote, Oprah's right to voice her opinion or Obama's right to the presidency. White men and Black men could return to the days when each drank from separate fountains. That is what "separate but equal" will lead to. We are all people, and people, deserve to share the same rights. There is no question. Acknowledge all or acknowledge none. There is no "in-between."
It is time to stand up and say that you are human. It is time to demand your human rights. Nothing less will be accepted. Let us all drink from the same fountain...the fountain of knowledge of good and evil, and evil is the name of discrimination.
"Be the difference you want to see." - Ghandi