| One evening, sitting on the back porch and taking in the news on CNN, I sat in horror as I watched George W. Bush, the President of the United States and leader of the free world, stand before the country and pronounce that marriage needed to be protected by writing discrimination, marginalization, segregation and oppression into the Constitution of the United States for the first time in its history. It was then that I began to realize how ignorant I was of politics and of our country.
I had been living in a bubble of idealism which had been spoon fed to me by my public school education. All those ideas about the American Revolution, the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution and Bill of Rights, the freeing of the slaves, woman's suffrage, the heroism of US soldiers liberating the Jewish people from the horrors of the Nazi holocaust, and the Civil Rights Act. I was taught to be proud of my country and I was proud. But that night was when I realized that I had only been taught half of the truth - the pretty half all tied up in a bow like a present under the tree on Christmas morning.
They never told me about the dark half.
Although I didn't immediately become actively involved in politics, my mind was maturing, my eyes were opening and I was learning. It wasn't until the 2008 election that I became heavily invested in the outcome. I began the year teetering between Clinton and Edwards and settling firmly behind Clinton.
But then I read a passage from Barack Obama's book, Dreams from my Father, that completely and radically changed my opinion of this unknown candidate. That passage reads, ". . . the underlying struggle - between worlds of plenty and worlds of want; between the modern and the ancient; between those who embrace our teeming, colliding, irksome diversity, while still insisting on a set of values that binds us together, and those who would seek, under whatever flag or slogan or sacred text, a certainty and simplification that justifies cruelty toward those not like us - is the struggle set forth. . ." These words had an impact on me - a deep and resonating impact.
I promptly moved into Obama's column and for the first time in my otherwise politically uninvolved life jumped full bore into the campaign. I volunteered to work on his campaign, made phone calls, posted on blogs, talked to friends, neighbors, family, and convinced others to register to vote and actually vote. And I followed the news, main stream and internet, like my life depended on it.
Then on the night of November 4th, when MSNBC announced Obama as the projected winner, I was filled with an overwhelming and overpowering joy. And relief. Not so much because my guy had won, but because the party that had eroded the Constitution, that had raped the US Commission on Civil Rights and the Department of Justice, that had oppressed all those who were not of their kind were finally and fully no longer in power. We were as a country headed in a new and better direction - a promising new course.
But as you all know, that joy turned out to be so fleetingly brief. As the election results came in, we learned that California's Proposition 8 had passed. It was a shock - a devastating shock. The big prize of California that most of us expected to win had slipped through our fingers like a precious wedding ring falls into an eviscerating garbage disposal. And what about our friends back in California who had wed over the past months - what would happen to their marriages? I was, quite literally, consumed in a state of near uncontrollable rage and grief for what would be several weeks.
Knowing that I needed to do something to channel my rage I googled "prop 8 protest" and learned about Join the Impact. That's when I met Will Elliott (it was Will that told me about Pam and Pam's House Blend) and Tom Greene, two of the thousands of unsung heros of our movement. We organized the November 15th Join the Impact Protest for Raleigh.
We started out hoping to get two or three hundred people to show up. But on November 15th, in the rain, over 1,400 people marched through the streets of downtown Raleigh around the Capitol and to the Governor's Mansion- a milestone for LGBT history in conservative North Carolina. Someone even raised the Rainbow flag on the Governor's Mansion flagpole. But while the protest was therapeutic, other events were adding to my anguish.
A very close and dear friend when listening to my rants about marriage equality and religious persecution told me I shouldn't take the actions of religion so personally. I verbally attacked her, we didn't speak for nearly a month and although she came to our wedding two weeks ago, I don't think I'll ever feel the closeness we once had. I still love her dearly, she is a good person, but our relationship was damaged. Other friends seemed so nonchalant and unconcerned. All of this led to my increasing frustration. Some were completely unaware of how what they were saying was hurting me even more. Like the very good friend who said she was, "all for equal rights and equal benefits but felt that marriage was a religious institution and should not be open to same-sex couples." She might as well have slapped me - it wouldn't have hurt as bad.
Of all of our friends, only two showed any real understanding toward what I was going through. One of them, Betty, was from liberal New York and the other, Connie, was half of an interracial couple. Each of them from their own unique experiences understood and offered a compassionate shoulder. I will never forget the day Connie and I sat on the front steps and cried together arm in arm connecting through our mutual experiences with discrimination.
Nick, recognizing how much I was struggling to get a grasp on my emotions and how much distance had been created between our friends and me, suggested we move to Connecticut or Massachusetts and get married. It did not take long to decide to leave our dream home, our neighborhood, and our friends behind and move to a state where not only could we get married, but also have our marriage recognized by our state and local governments; to a place where we would no longer have to humbly ask for our dignity and respect.
After placing the "for sale" sign in the front yard, everyone wanted to know why we were moving. Telling them why, for marriage equality, actually solidified my decision to move. Barely a third of our friends and neighbors expressed congratulations for our upcoming marriage. Most said things like, "Oh" or "Well we are sorry to see you go," never realizing that they were quietly revealing their hidden bigotry for the first time. It's that look on a person's face when their eyes dilate momentarily and they look like a deer in the headlights for about two seconds while their brain goes into overdrive trying to figure out how not to reveal their intolerance and disapproval. They can all happily vote away your rights in a private booth, but few have the courage to tell you that to your face.
On the drive to New England, I became almost giddy with a sense of liberation. I reflected on how slaves from centuries past had made similar, albeit extremely more difficult and dangerous, journeys on the Underground Railroad. At times it seemed as if weight was literally being lifted from my heart and soul. But I also still wondered if we were making the right decision. Would New England be any different?
It did not take long to get my answer. What I have found here are monuments to Abraham Lincoln and Harriett Beecher Stowe, and to Union soldiers who fought and died for the idea of liberty for all; a stark contrast to the Southern monuments of those who fought to uphold their ideas of slavery, privilege, superiority and segregation. I've found Rainbow flags in church windows; again a stark contrast to the chilling language emanating from the Baptist churches of the South. I've also found a Rainbow flag hanging beside the state flag of Connecticut inside Hartford's City Hall with a large banner proclaiming welcome to all. I've found politicians who are seemingly light years ahead of their Southern counterparts on equality. I've found marriage equality blooming in surrounding states. And I've also found a state that has every LGBT equality issue proscribed into law (except the T in ENDA but we're working on that - hopefully next year); but once again a very stark contrast to North Carolina where we had not a single one.
But most important, is what I have not found. I have not found a single person who didn't eagerly congratulate us on our wedding. Even perfect strangers on the street smile brightly and say, "Good for you! Congratulations!" The healing has started.
Nick and I are married now and I love him dearly. We left behind a lot in North Carolina. I miss the home we built together; I miss the community we helped to establish in our old neighborhood; and I miss our friends so much. But I would not trade my marriage nor my dignity to get it all back.
So as I take in the view from my window, I have a deep and uplifting appreciation for what I see - equality.
Link to our wedding day: http://www.pamshouseblend.com/... |
