Historic
The last several months, I believe, have been the most stressful time I've ever experienced. My anxiety over the election and propositions was at times crippling. And we faced a very, very difficult decision.
May 15th, 2008 was, thus far, the happiest day of my life. I have never experienced such a thrill as the validation we were offered that day - that we were being told that we were worth it. That we were good enough, that we were just as good as anyone else. The statement of tolerance and support of equal rights was overwhelming.
Early next year, Jess and I will have been together for six years. We've lived in three homes and are picking out our fourth this month. We've gone through incredibly difficult, trying times and have overcome obstacles that at the time seemed insurmountable. We've had nasty fights and have supported each other when our legs could not hold us up and experienced a love that has never wavered in the face of fear or despair or anger.
I can no longer imagine my life without Jess. There are no words that can describe what she has done for me, how much of me she has helped to build into what I am and I know likewise - we are built in to one another. We have grown as vines, now acting as one, now impossible to separate without damage. If not for her, I truly shudder to think who and where I would be. There is never a day that passes that my heart does not swell with our love - when I come home from work. When she makes me dinner because I can't cook. When we wrestle and knock things over. When she feeds the cat. When we brush our teeth.
In the last four years, there have been a scarce handful of days that we have slept apart from one another. Aside from those days, every single night we fall asleep wrapped in each others arms and wake up in a similar but different position. The nights that we are forced to sleep apart are miserable and uncomfortable and lonely for both of us.
I had figured out when I was sixteen that I was gay. The only time in my entire life I had ever thought about marriage was when I had imagined the wedding with the first girl that I had a crush on at fourteen. I had it planned down to our dresses. Never since then had I thought seriously about the institution of marriage. When the ban on gay marriage was lifted, Jess and I were not hurried to run out and get hitched. We took this new right extremely seriously and, especially since we simply had not considered and therefore knew very little about marriage, wanted to make sure that we were absolutely ready before making the decision. Jess's mother married her partner on 08.08.08 and we thought harder about the subject.
As time passed and we still did not rush our decision, the proposed constitutional amendment loomed. We had an even more difficult decision to make - do we throw our caution to the wind and get married before the election? Ultimately we came to the conclusion that the timing was not right because of shifting challenges in our life and felt that to get married for the fear it would be taken away was the wrong frame of mind. My marriage will be my choice and I will not be bullied by the idea of mandated discrimination. I will not be intimidated by the hate machine. We stood strong together, believed firmly that the people of the progressive state of California would reject hatred and support equality and agreed that after the election, we would discuss the possibility again without our hand forced.
November 4th, 2008, California, by a narrow margin, voted to write discrimination into our constitution and to forcibly remove our right to bind ourselves to one another under the law in marriage.
The fear and disappointment and utter, soul-crushing sadness I experienced up until and during these moments is nothing like I have ever experienced. I've had my family split apart. I estranged myself from the religion that formed my entire social network. I've faced life-threatening disease. I think the only thing that compares to the sick feeling that took me last night was when, at age sixteen, I lost my father to suicide. Betrayal. Anger. Helplessness. Disgust. Hopelessness.
We came home late after watching local coverage for a few hours at Jack's and I didn't want to stay up through more agonizing hours of refreshing CNN. So we went to bed. We wrapped ourselves around each other as we do every night. But November 4th, we held each other and cried together like we never have before. We told each other that no matter what the results were when we woke, nothing would change between us. They can't take away what we have right now and when we get back what they think they can take, we'll still be here just as strong and just as in love as we are today.
When the sun rose and the last nails were close to being pounded, I let go of my hopelessness and I rejected my helplessness. I faced the day with my chin up, even if my lip might have trembled through the day. I took my anger and I twisted it into steely determination that seared in me as it was remolded in the flames of my betrayal and disgust.
This is not the end of our fight. This is only the beginning. The pious and the hypocritical have thrown down a gauntlet. They have dealt us a blow that has left us reeling, has left us feeling broken and rejected and unwanted. They have informed us that they firmly believe that we deserve less than they do. They have told us that our love is not as worthy as their love and that we are a threat to society. They have lied to our faces, telling us that they care about us and empathize with us while cursing us and spitting at our feet. They have lied to those that might have supported us, counter-lied and counter-lied and counter-lied. They've threatened us in our places of business, in our homes, on the streets, on the air, on their cars, on their lawns.
They are afraid of us. But we are not afraid of them.
Before May 15th, we didn't have anything to lose. We only had to gain. And now what we had gained -- rights and equality -- they have, in a blatant and undeniable act of discrimination, removed. We are nice people, they know that. But they don't know the dragon that they have awakened. We have been given a taste of equality and they have dared to claim that it doesn't belong to us. This will summon a storm that I suspect they cannot imagine.
Civil rights movements do not happen over night. The minority has to be mistreated and provoked to the point that they, as a people, come to the conclusion that it is completely intolerable. This is that moment.
November 4th was a monumental day. Though it was bittersweet of those who were handed mistreatment, our country banded together in such a way that I honestly had begun to doubt was possible in my lifetime. I have never felt as patriotic, as proud to be an American as I did that night as I watched the tears of my fellow citizens, shed my own and listened to the incredible words of hope set forth by our new president.
I firmly believe that this is the dawning of a new era. We may have taken a loss, my brothers and sisters here in California, and indeed the entire gay community worldwide for as closely watched as the proposition was. But our new president opened the door tomorrow with a message of tolerance and brotherhood and true patriotism. Not the kind of patriotism based on the panic and fear of a war. Not the kind of patriotism that comes in a magnetic ribbon. Not the kind of patriotism that murders our children over seas and oppresses and ostracizes them in our home. Patriotism doesn't involve invading privacy and taking away freedoms, it does not entail narrowing freedom of choice until it is no longer a freedom, it does not suppress freedom of speech. Patriotism does not ignore the dream and the INTENT of the men who founded our great country, it does not let religion rule our government and force its way into our homes. Patriotism is not bigotry or racism or bribery or corruption or piousness or segregation or deceptiveness or lying or hate.
November 4th, in the national election, was the most shining example I believe we have ever seen of what was once coined as the American Dream. We poured out in droves with a song on our tongues and a burning in our chests and we elected an incredible man as our president with the knowledge that he has the power to unite us in spite of the daunting hardships our country faces. And that man was a black man, the son of an immigrant.
That is fucking patriotism.
Last night my heart was broken. Today I face forward, feeling deep in my heart that this man will encourage a change in the emotional state in the world. He is the strength that we need and the message that our landscape is drought for. He may not be able to say in so many words that he supports my right to marry but he spoke out for me against the proposition that attacked me in my home.
With time, our country will be set back on track to what it was meant to be. An enviable place to live where you can do anything. Where people from other countries come to escape repression. Where those men - and the natives - and the white men, and the slaves stolen from their homes, and the women, and the sick, and the downtrodden - and the minority - where every single one of us is considered equal.
To my gay community - this is our time! This is our movement, it's our turn! Stand up - push that brokenheartedness away and grasp instead what we know to be true and what is written into our history, no matter what they try to scribble in the footnotes - WE ARE EQUAL. You can't write equality out of the foundation of our entire society and historically those who try WILL be villanized. History books - I believe by the time my child can read them - will record these times as a dark moment in United States history, when the people chose hate over love, where the majority attacked the minority. But those books will also record our fight to the finish! Our pages will be lined with perseverance and tenacity and inked indelibly will be the names of our champions, men and women the likes of which our community has never had to stand up for us before. Gavin Newsom, Jerry Sanders, Bill Clinton, Jeff Prang and hundreds of other political figures who have stood by the side of our own growing organizations.
We may have lost this 8 battle by a margin but do not forget that MILLIONS of our straight neighbors stood up for our rights in the voting booths this year, in four states across our country. Our friends and family have fought with us this year in an extremely moving show of support. People that knew that their happiness would not become victimized by ours rallied with us and shouted with us. Our straight brothers and sisters stood with us on street corners and waved signs. They stood up for us against their ignorant coworkers and friends and made endless efforts to carry our voice into places we can't reach. That four percent margin is nothing compared to the support and love we have gained and been shown in this campaign and for that I personally thank you - all of you. My straight friends who have stood up for me during these trying times have meant so much. When I was too crushed even thinking about the ballot, you spoke angrily of what burned in my heart. When I was too scared to speak, you were my voice. We need you, my straight friends, so badly. We need your shoulders to lean on and your strong hearts to beat with ours. And with time, more and more will join us until the MINORITY BECOMES THE MAJORITY. There will be a day when love outnumbers hate and ignorance - but they're pretty safe.
We won't try to take their rights away.
May 15th, 2008 was, thus far, the happiest day of my life. I have never experienced such a thrill as the validation we were offered that day - that we were being told that we were worth it. That we were good enough, that we were just as good as anyone else. The statement of tolerance and support of equal rights was overwhelming.
Early next year, Jess and I will have been together for six years. We've lived in three homes and are picking out our fourth this month. We've gone through incredibly difficult, trying times and have overcome obstacles that at the time seemed insurmountable. We've had nasty fights and have supported each other when our legs could not hold us up and experienced a love that has never wavered in the face of fear or despair or anger.
I can no longer imagine my life without Jess. There are no words that can describe what she has done for me, how much of me she has helped to build into what I am and I know likewise - we are built in to one another. We have grown as vines, now acting as one, now impossible to separate without damage. If not for her, I truly shudder to think who and where I would be. There is never a day that passes that my heart does not swell with our love - when I come home from work. When she makes me dinner because I can't cook. When we wrestle and knock things over. When she feeds the cat. When we brush our teeth.
In the last four years, there have been a scarce handful of days that we have slept apart from one another. Aside from those days, every single night we fall asleep wrapped in each others arms and wake up in a similar but different position. The nights that we are forced to sleep apart are miserable and uncomfortable and lonely for both of us.
I had figured out when I was sixteen that I was gay. The only time in my entire life I had ever thought about marriage was when I had imagined the wedding with the first girl that I had a crush on at fourteen. I had it planned down to our dresses. Never since then had I thought seriously about the institution of marriage. When the ban on gay marriage was lifted, Jess and I were not hurried to run out and get hitched. We took this new right extremely seriously and, especially since we simply had not considered and therefore knew very little about marriage, wanted to make sure that we were absolutely ready before making the decision. Jess's mother married her partner on 08.08.08 and we thought harder about the subject.
As time passed and we still did not rush our decision, the proposed constitutional amendment loomed. We had an even more difficult decision to make - do we throw our caution to the wind and get married before the election? Ultimately we came to the conclusion that the timing was not right because of shifting challenges in our life and felt that to get married for the fear it would be taken away was the wrong frame of mind. My marriage will be my choice and I will not be bullied by the idea of mandated discrimination. I will not be intimidated by the hate machine. We stood strong together, believed firmly that the people of the progressive state of California would reject hatred and support equality and agreed that after the election, we would discuss the possibility again without our hand forced.
November 4th, 2008, California, by a narrow margin, voted to write discrimination into our constitution and to forcibly remove our right to bind ourselves to one another under the law in marriage.
The fear and disappointment and utter, soul-crushing sadness I experienced up until and during these moments is nothing like I have ever experienced. I've had my family split apart. I estranged myself from the religion that formed my entire social network. I've faced life-threatening disease. I think the only thing that compares to the sick feeling that took me last night was when, at age sixteen, I lost my father to suicide. Betrayal. Anger. Helplessness. Disgust. Hopelessness.
We came home late after watching local coverage for a few hours at Jack's and I didn't want to stay up through more agonizing hours of refreshing CNN. So we went to bed. We wrapped ourselves around each other as we do every night. But November 4th, we held each other and cried together like we never have before. We told each other that no matter what the results were when we woke, nothing would change between us. They can't take away what we have right now and when we get back what they think they can take, we'll still be here just as strong and just as in love as we are today.
When the sun rose and the last nails were close to being pounded, I let go of my hopelessness and I rejected my helplessness. I faced the day with my chin up, even if my lip might have trembled through the day. I took my anger and I twisted it into steely determination that seared in me as it was remolded in the flames of my betrayal and disgust.
This is not the end of our fight. This is only the beginning. The pious and the hypocritical have thrown down a gauntlet. They have dealt us a blow that has left us reeling, has left us feeling broken and rejected and unwanted. They have informed us that they firmly believe that we deserve less than they do. They have told us that our love is not as worthy as their love and that we are a threat to society. They have lied to our faces, telling us that they care about us and empathize with us while cursing us and spitting at our feet. They have lied to those that might have supported us, counter-lied and counter-lied and counter-lied. They've threatened us in our places of business, in our homes, on the streets, on the air, on their cars, on their lawns.
They are afraid of us. But we are not afraid of them.
Before May 15th, we didn't have anything to lose. We only had to gain. And now what we had gained -- rights and equality -- they have, in a blatant and undeniable act of discrimination, removed. We are nice people, they know that. But they don't know the dragon that they have awakened. We have been given a taste of equality and they have dared to claim that it doesn't belong to us. This will summon a storm that I suspect they cannot imagine.
Civil rights movements do not happen over night. The minority has to be mistreated and provoked to the point that they, as a people, come to the conclusion that it is completely intolerable. This is that moment.
November 4th was a monumental day. Though it was bittersweet of those who were handed mistreatment, our country banded together in such a way that I honestly had begun to doubt was possible in my lifetime. I have never felt as patriotic, as proud to be an American as I did that night as I watched the tears of my fellow citizens, shed my own and listened to the incredible words of hope set forth by our new president.
I firmly believe that this is the dawning of a new era. We may have taken a loss, my brothers and sisters here in California, and indeed the entire gay community worldwide for as closely watched as the proposition was. But our new president opened the door tomorrow with a message of tolerance and brotherhood and true patriotism. Not the kind of patriotism based on the panic and fear of a war. Not the kind of patriotism that comes in a magnetic ribbon. Not the kind of patriotism that murders our children over seas and oppresses and ostracizes them in our home. Patriotism doesn't involve invading privacy and taking away freedoms, it does not entail narrowing freedom of choice until it is no longer a freedom, it does not suppress freedom of speech. Patriotism does not ignore the dream and the INTENT of the men who founded our great country, it does not let religion rule our government and force its way into our homes. Patriotism is not bigotry or racism or bribery or corruption or piousness or segregation or deceptiveness or lying or hate.
November 4th, in the national election, was the most shining example I believe we have ever seen of what was once coined as the American Dream. We poured out in droves with a song on our tongues and a burning in our chests and we elected an incredible man as our president with the knowledge that he has the power to unite us in spite of the daunting hardships our country faces. And that man was a black man, the son of an immigrant.
That is fucking patriotism.
Last night my heart was broken. Today I face forward, feeling deep in my heart that this man will encourage a change in the emotional state in the world. He is the strength that we need and the message that our landscape is drought for. He may not be able to say in so many words that he supports my right to marry but he spoke out for me against the proposition that attacked me in my home.
With time, our country will be set back on track to what it was meant to be. An enviable place to live where you can do anything. Where people from other countries come to escape repression. Where those men - and the natives - and the white men, and the slaves stolen from their homes, and the women, and the sick, and the downtrodden - and the minority - where every single one of us is considered equal.
To my gay community - this is our time! This is our movement, it's our turn! Stand up - push that brokenheartedness away and grasp instead what we know to be true and what is written into our history, no matter what they try to scribble in the footnotes - WE ARE EQUAL. You can't write equality out of the foundation of our entire society and historically those who try WILL be villanized. History books - I believe by the time my child can read them - will record these times as a dark moment in United States history, when the people chose hate over love, where the majority attacked the minority. But those books will also record our fight to the finish! Our pages will be lined with perseverance and tenacity and inked indelibly will be the names of our champions, men and women the likes of which our community has never had to stand up for us before. Gavin Newsom, Jerry Sanders, Bill Clinton, Jeff Prang and hundreds of other political figures who have stood by the side of our own growing organizations.
We may have lost this 8 battle by a margin but do not forget that MILLIONS of our straight neighbors stood up for our rights in the voting booths this year, in four states across our country. Our friends and family have fought with us this year in an extremely moving show of support. People that knew that their happiness would not become victimized by ours rallied with us and shouted with us. Our straight brothers and sisters stood with us on street corners and waved signs. They stood up for us against their ignorant coworkers and friends and made endless efforts to carry our voice into places we can't reach. That four percent margin is nothing compared to the support and love we have gained and been shown in this campaign and for that I personally thank you - all of you. My straight friends who have stood up for me during these trying times have meant so much. When I was too crushed even thinking about the ballot, you spoke angrily of what burned in my heart. When I was too scared to speak, you were my voice. We need you, my straight friends, so badly. We need your shoulders to lean on and your strong hearts to beat with ours. And with time, more and more will join us until the MINORITY BECOMES THE MAJORITY. There will be a day when love outnumbers hate and ignorance - but they're pretty safe.
We won't try to take their rights away.