Jubilation and Devastation

On Tuesday, America made it clear that race was no longer the issue it used to be. In an overwhelming electoral majority, the people of this land elected their first African-America president. In that moment, every black American realized that they could be anything they wanted; that the doors were no longer closed. Racially, the millennium had arrived for the descendants of American slaves. Blacks were no longer niggers. They had pride and hope as their personal possessions. When I saw their reactions on the television coverage of this historical event, I cried with them, recalling the struggles and sacrifices of the equal rights movements of the 1960s.

In the same moment, here in California, the electorate passed a constitutional amendment that eliminated the newly born right of gays and lesbians to marry the people they love. Here in California, by embedding it into the very Constitution that guides the state and its citizens, Californians created a new class of niggers: Fags and dykes. The words are all interchangeable and all define a separate and less equal class of citizens. And the 18,000 same-sex couples who were married during those four and a half months of equality (including yours truly) now have licenses and vows that are in legal limbo.

When I got up this morning and heard the results (52% yes, 48% no), I was devastated. I was angry. I was depressed. I was resentful. I had a mild urge to go out and firebomb a Mormon temple or a Catholic church or some such edifice of Bible-driven bigotry. I was going to call into work and take a day off because I was so upset. But then, I realized I would just sit at home and stew, making myself more miserable and not achieving anything. So I went to work.

On the train in, I looked at the people riding with me: Did she vote yes? Did he vote yes? Does he look like the type? And it was frustrating because you just can't tell. The one thing that did infect me, though, was the high spirits of so many of the black people on the train and subway. They were smiling. They were making eye contact and nodding hello. You could tell they felt like whole, complete people. And though I was still depressed about my own situation, their energy helped me continue into the day.

Finally, I realized what was happening: I had lost the feeling they had achieved. When I took my vows and married Steve, I felt whole and, for the first time in my life, my heart was completely full. My relationship was being acknowledged with the honor and dignity it deserved: the state of marriage. I was able to share that with very special people. With Tuesday's vote results, my heart had hemorrhaged and I felt less than a whole, complete person. I had become the nigger of the Religious Right.

But there are already court documents being filed. This is not the end, but the beginning of another long round of court cases, judgments and appeals to re-establish the simple right that the California Supreme Court so eloquently conferred back in May: every citizen's right to marry the person of his or her own choosing. It's just that I was hoping this one struggle would be over and the concept of elemental personal rights would start spreading beyond our borders. Guess not. But Steve and I still have our rings. We still have our valid marriage license. We still have one another. And all the good people interested enough to check in on us here on this blog.