Bye-Bye Proposition Hate

I woke up the morning of August 5^th in a chic-rustic cabin tucked into Big Sur’s woods, enveloped in the thickest fog this side of Brigadoon. I opened the front door and stooped to pick up a copy of the San Francisco Guardian. The headline read “Unconstitutional” referring to a state judge’s ruling that Proposition 8 is as the headline so succinctly referred.

And just like that, the fog began to lift.

There are great tragedies in American politics: using race or cultural heritage to try and divide us; scapegoating the less fortunate, as if they are the reason we’re in such dire straits; preventing any of us from–god forbid—taking any kind of personal responsibility for what has happened to our country. It’s much easier when we can blame it on “them”, and “them” changes depending upon which Republican is running in which state. I wish that statement weren’t so cut-and-dried, but it is.

Regardless, the fact that someone put the brakes on Proposition 8, which attempts to decide who is a suitable candidate for marriage, and who isn’t, makes me gob-smackingly happy.

I have to admit, I have some skin in this game. Two of my four sisters are lesbian. Both have been in committed relationships for over twenty years, I’ve grown up with two women whom I call my sister-in-laws, and one of those unions has produced two incredible nieces.

So to watch their lifestyle (and I even hesitate to call it that, because that word connotes a choice that I don’t think exists, really) assailed by a bunch of hateful jackasses in an otherwise groovy state, really gets my hackles up. I’ve been around gay people my entire life, and besides for exposure to a few too many mullet haircuts, artwork that contain penises and women who look suspiciously like Tom Petty, my experiences have been positive.

Gays want to get married. Not just because they want weddings, but for more practical reasons: so when one of them gets sick, the hospital needn’t look to call the next of kin. The next of kin is already in the waiting room, able to rattle off the patient’s medical history at a moment’s notice. Or when one of them dies, the assets don’t go to some fat-fingered relatives, but to maintain a household and live out the rest of one’s days without upheaval, as the deceased surely would’ve intended. That’s all. How that affects you, or me, or the mayor of Santa Barbara, is beyond me.

I’m not sure that the majority people who are against gay-marriage even understand why they are. Sure there are bigots who use derogatory words. But there are also others, who have been told by hateful pundits or even pastors how their lives will change for the worse, when gays get to marry. People often speak of their God as merciful and yet whenever I see his power wielded it is in an intolerant manner. Apparently, the  “We’re All God’s Children” bumper sticker needs an asterisk in some areas of the country.

In most countries, being a homosexual is an enormous burden. In some, even punishable by death. And yet, it’s as if some voters in California had been saying, “Hey, you don’t have a tough enough road, gays. Here’s an enormous pothole for you to navigate. By the way, thanks for paying taxes and creating two-thirds of anything clever.”

But the other day Judge Vaughn Walker gave the legal equivalent of a backhand toward the worst of society’s people. Marriage is between a man and a woman? Says who? I mean, come on. This is 2010, not the Spanish Inquisition. Everyone, man-woman, man-man, woman-woman combination should get to repeat a few vows. And you know how that affects me? Beyond purchasing a few more place settings as gifts, and having more deliriously happy friends, it does not in any way impact my life and marriage. Pretend that I fed that last line through a bullhorn, because I think that it’s the crux of the misconception: that gays are asking for anything different than the rest of us. They want what we have: to live happily ever after, about half the time.

What the judge did was far more important than restoring our faith in California. He reaffirmed that the constitution was written with compassion. The framers had no idea of the scope of what was to come, in terms of growth, but threw a few darts and still wrote an incredibly thoughtful, multi-tiered argument for protecting people’s rights, against those who would try and deny them.

It’s a living document, once used to beat back slavery, and then to provide women the right to vote. Noble efforts. Not this crap. This is backward. Prop 8 should say that anyone regardless of race or gender can marry. Prop 9 should offer the same protections for those who want to adopt children. Proposition 10 should be that everyone who wants to be a citizen and pay taxes, can do that too. I would rather not discuss Prop 11 publically, but suffice it to say it involves grown men wearing tank tops and skinny jeans and…forced labor. That one’s non-negotiable.

Still, the forces of ignorance will try and fight this with nonsense about activist judges and “Jesus said this.” They try and make the Bible a living document, too, and inject hatred, but only when it suits their purposes. And they will try and pin this decision on President Obama “the Socialist” because it’s the best hand they have, albeit a shaky one: a pair of deuces.

I just want to shake them and tell them what I have known since I was a little—and I use that term very loosely—boy: that all men are created equal, even if they’re standing atop a six-layer wedding cake from Bouchon.