I went to bed last night very happy knowing that this country had elected Barack Obama as its president. I got the news at about 8:20 p.m. while still at a poetry reading the department had sponsored on campus. It had been a hectic day, but it ended on a very high note with the reading of some beautiful poetry and with the news that we have a president who promises to change the current state of our country. I slept very well last night.
I will freely admit that this election was important to me. I've not blogged about it much, perhaps, but I needed--and I think our country needed--someone in whom we could trust again, someone intelligent enough to work on problems and think them through and get good advice before making a decision rather than someone who will have some sort of knee-jerk reaction to them and then never change his mind. I wanted Obama to win. I really needed him to win in order for me to have some faith that we can still get things right.
My participation this time was greater than ever before. For the first time in my life, I contributed to a presidential candidate's campaign. Somewhere there's a list of Obama donors with my name on it at least once. (I'm assuming you don't get your name listed for each individual donation you make, right?) Even voting took greater effort than before. I had been on an accreditation visit and missed the deadline for applying to vote by absentee ballot. I saw the lines in Norwalk this past weekend that lasted for up to five hours in the rain and decided against early voting. I had to vote on Election Day. So I got up early and went to work at 5:30 a.m., administered two exams, then drove back from Orange County to Los Angeles (eating lunch in the car on the way), stood in line for the first time ever in my life to vote, and then drove back to Orange County to attend a dinner with our guest poet. I think I must have added about 150 miles to my car yesterday, but it was worth it. I was a part of history.
When we left the home where the dinner was held, Obama was in the lead already, something like 174-76 or so. When the poetry reading finished about 90 minutes later, we had a new president. An amazing night in so many ways. I was listening to Obama's acceptance speech on the drive back to Los Angeles, and I had to pull the car over so that I could finish crying before continuing on home.
And yet...
I'm sad today as well. Proposition 8 has apparently passed with 53 percent of the vote. Enough people with bigotry and prejudice in their hearts decided to negate the rights of thousands of gays and lesbians in this state that has been known for so long as a place of tolerance and freedom. Now the constitution of this state specifically limits one of the rights of its people to only certain individuals. All do not share in liberty any longer.
I won't apologize for calling those who voted for Prop. 8 bigots and prejudiced. No one's right to marry should be infringed simply because of your religious beliefs. When it comes to freedom and equality, I'm an absolutist. I had hoped more of my fellow Californians were too.
When I moved here in 1990, California was still very much like a dream to me. It was here that I became the person I'd always felt inside that I could be. I was able to study the literature that I wanted to study. I was able to be friends with a wide range of people, folks of different backgrounds and ideologies and interests. I was able to obtain a full-time job that I loved while being out. I was able to meet and date other men without the sense of tremendous fear that I had felt while growing up in small-town Mississippi. Marriage, of course, wasn't on the horizon for me at the time. Even when I was in a long-term relationship that lasted almost ten years, we talked of marriage as if it were only a fantasy, something to imagine but never attain.
This summer that fantasy came true, though. I've written before about the joy that I felt in watching the weddings of gay and lesbian couples on TV. It was as if the state had finally realized its promise, a true sense of equality and freedom at last. Now it's all been taken away again, and I'm feeling rather crushed.
I'm hurt because more people in California want to protect the rights of chickens and cows than want to bestow equality on me and other gays and lesbians.
I'm hurt because the people who supported Prop. 8 keep saying that it wasn't/isn't about discrimination when there is no other word to describe the exclusion of a group of people from the rights and rites of marriage.
I'm hurt because I live in a country that cannot truly and fully separate what the government owes to its citizens and what religion offers to its believers.
I'm hurt because the people who claimed that they were undecided were apparently just too spineless or gutless (take your pick) to admit to pollsters that they just didn't want gay people to feel equal.
I'm hurt because I fear this will give supporters of Prop. 8 license to continue on this path and that we will see them attempt to erode other rights that gays and lesbians have.
I'm hurt because being told that "domestic partnership" gives you the same rights as marriage is tantamount in my mind to being told that the water in the "colored" drinking fountain is just as good as the water in the "whites only" fountain.
I don't know where to put my rage today. I've tried to keep my anger inside me as I taught three classes, but it's been difficult. I keep thinking about the past few months and the emotional toll that they have taken on me and others. I did what I could to get the word out. I donated money for the first time ever to a campaign involving a ballot proposition. I worked the tables on our campus with the student club to let people know about the dangers of Prop. 8 (sometimes sitting on the other side of the sidewalk from students of mine manning a Yes on 8 table). I asked all of my friends to vote against the measure. I voted against it myself. In short, I did what most of us did, and it just wasn't enough.
I do take a tiny bit of comfort in the fact that the margin this time is 53-47, compared to the 61-39 for Prop. 22 eight years ago. We managed to change the minds of about 8 percent of the electorate, and that's good. I even tried to comfort some of my students who were feeling very crushed by the outcome as well. But it's just not enough.
Stopping a voter-approved amendment to the constitution (even with such a small margin of victory) seems unlikely. Court cases involving the 18,000 gay and lesbian couples and whether or not their marriages will be recognized seem very likely. More campaigning and more money for more advertising seem likely as well. And, still, perhaps it's just not enough.
I'm feeling disillusioned, as you can tell. I still love my adopted state. I won't be moving away; I only have two other options at this point anyway (Massachusetts and Connecticut). Everywhere else, it seems, has followed the same path as California. I don't have anyone to marry, but it now seems as if it isn't even worth looking for someone to marry. Our relationship would never be recognized as equal in the eyes of my fellow citizens, and that is what truly hurts.
I have all of the absurd possible reactions in my mind at this point. I'm thinking of boycotting weddings for straight couples from now on. I may not attend any more weddings until gays and lesbians have the right to marry. I'm thinking of starting my own petition to have all marriages approved by the voters. Perhaps we could have a booklet with all of the couples, and the people of California can decided if they're deemed "fit" to marry on a couple-by-couple basis. Maybe we should have a petition to eliminate marriage altogether, no rights for anyone any longer.
Yes, I know that's silly. I will probably even chicken out of the boycott eventually when a dear friend gets married. However, it wouldn't be a good idea to send me an invitation to a wedding any time soon.
