We won. Gay marriage is legal in all fifty states! There are still some political logistics to work through and the inevitable hold-outs fighting to secure their place in Bigot History, but the end is in sight. We are a legally recognized people.
So now what?
One of the ugliest and most painful arguments happening during the fight for marriage equality, and also one of the least addressed, was the comparison of civil rights legitimacy between the Gay community and the Black community. I found myself (the white gay) often fighting that our struggles were intertwined: a history of violence, oppression, police brutality, hatred and scorn from the straight/White establishment combined with a legal lack of protection for basic civil rights. I could ignore the bigots who slandered my sexuality, but there was the obvious great and terrible differentiation: Slavery. However, I countered that we must join together and look at today. I have had my life threatened for being gay, images of gay men being hanged around the world are commonplace, I have had many friends arrested and abused by police, and the “public” does not care . . . we are in this together!
But that today is now yesterday. Our struggle is not the same. If it ever was.
So now what?
One of the ugliest and most painful arguments happening during the fight for marriage equality, and also one of the least addressed, was the comparison of civil rights legitimacy between the Gay community and the Black community. I found myself (the white gay) often fighting that our struggles were intertwined: a history of violence, oppression, police brutality, hatred and scorn from the straight/White establishment combined with a legal lack of protection for basic civil rights. I could ignore the bigots who slandered my sexuality, but there was the obvious great and terrible differentiation: Slavery. However, I countered that we must join together and look at today. I have had my life threatened for being gay, images of gay men being hanged around the world are commonplace, I have had many friends arrested and abused by police, and the “public” does not care . . . we are in this together!
But that today is now yesterday. Our struggle is not the same. If it ever was.
On Friday, June 26th, millions of people on social media (many of them straight) changed their profile image to one overlain with a rainbow flag. Corporate America flocked to support the ruling, praising America’s new version of equality and freedom. News outlets scrambled to inundate us with images of victory and subsequent mockery of those still in opposition. Even the White House transformed into a giant rainbow flag. |
The White House. The symbolic and literal structure of the leadership of the United States of America became a gay flag.
Gay lives matter is a reality. Black lives matter is a hashtag. I am a white gay man who, as of June 26th, 2015, am now just a white man. I am of the acknowledged and celebrated fabric of the United States of America.
What I already see among my fellow white, gay men is sad and terrible: a sudden and insidious solidarity with the white, straight establishment. We, sometimes dangerously so, agreed to “normalize” ourselves for political and publicity purposes during the struggle, but that normalization has turned into a false sameness that has blinders permanently attached aside the eyes of many of my gay brothers and sisters. Dollar signs illuminate not only in the visages of the CEO’s of corporate America, but now reside in our eyes. We have a choice to make, and it has to happen right now: Reach our hand up to be elevated in the hierarchy or reach out our hands out to help those still struggling.
Gay lives matter is a reality. Black lives matter is a hashtag. I am a white gay man who, as of June 26th, 2015, am now just a white man. I am of the acknowledged and celebrated fabric of the United States of America.
What I already see among my fellow white, gay men is sad and terrible: a sudden and insidious solidarity with the white, straight establishment. We, sometimes dangerously so, agreed to “normalize” ourselves for political and publicity purposes during the struggle, but that normalization has turned into a false sameness that has blinders permanently attached aside the eyes of many of my gay brothers and sisters. Dollar signs illuminate not only in the visages of the CEO’s of corporate America, but now reside in our eyes. We have a choice to make, and it has to happen right now: Reach our hand up to be elevated in the hierarchy or reach out our hands out to help those still struggling.
We participated in the systemic bigotry in America even as we fought for equality. We accepted “white” as the pinnacle perception of “normal”, and we manipulated that perception to gain equality. Necessary? Perhaps. Evil? Definitely.
There is not enough space on the internet to list the countless and current offenses against the Black community, or the wrongful deaths of Black people in this country, or the instances of police brutality, or the murderers found innocent, or . . . or . . . or. The list goes on and on ad infinitum. We are all aware that there is a system (many systems) in place to keep the money in the hands of the wealthy, but rarely do we acknowledge the vicious racism that is part of (and a motivation for) the permanency of that system. It is disgusting and shameful and sick and violent and wrong. Racism in this country is commonplace and institutionalized.
Black lives matter. Not in a hashtag, but in real life. And just as we cried tears of joy at our straight allies joining the fight for our equality, we now must become those allies. It is our time to move out of the spotlight, hand over the microphone and march behind and in solidarity with the leaders and victims of the new civil rights movement.
We, the newly anointed victorious, have to step ahead of the curve of the greed within our own people and remember yesterday. We cannot forget where we came from and how we had to fight. We must not join the privileged, or we have fought for nothing. We have a moment now, but the window of opportunity is barely still open just a week after the Supreme Court decision.
I never wanted the Barbie Dream House. I let you believe that I did so you would give me, in return, my basic civil rights as a citizen of this country. The front door at the address “American Dream” is now open to me.
I will not step within unless the Black kid in the hoodie can come inside, too. I will not cross that threshold until the still segregated public education system in this country is equalized. I will not sit at the table until a racist police force is de-militarized. Until that pretty white house is illuminated with the freedom of Black America, I will stay outside. I will not join you until you acknowledge and invite within every single person still here on the outside. I respectfully decline.
There is not enough space on the internet to list the countless and current offenses against the Black community, or the wrongful deaths of Black people in this country, or the instances of police brutality, or the murderers found innocent, or . . . or . . . or. The list goes on and on ad infinitum. We are all aware that there is a system (many systems) in place to keep the money in the hands of the wealthy, but rarely do we acknowledge the vicious racism that is part of (and a motivation for) the permanency of that system. It is disgusting and shameful and sick and violent and wrong. Racism in this country is commonplace and institutionalized.
Black lives matter. Not in a hashtag, but in real life. And just as we cried tears of joy at our straight allies joining the fight for our equality, we now must become those allies. It is our time to move out of the spotlight, hand over the microphone and march behind and in solidarity with the leaders and victims of the new civil rights movement.
We, the newly anointed victorious, have to step ahead of the curve of the greed within our own people and remember yesterday. We cannot forget where we came from and how we had to fight. We must not join the privileged, or we have fought for nothing. We have a moment now, but the window of opportunity is barely still open just a week after the Supreme Court decision.
I never wanted the Barbie Dream House. I let you believe that I did so you would give me, in return, my basic civil rights as a citizen of this country. The front door at the address “American Dream” is now open to me.
I will not step within unless the Black kid in the hoodie can come inside, too. I will not cross that threshold until the still segregated public education system in this country is equalized. I will not sit at the table until a racist police force is de-militarized. Until that pretty white house is illuminated with the freedom of Black America, I will stay outside. I will not join you until you acknowledge and invite within every single person still here on the outside. I respectfully decline.