I Want to See the Fall Colors in Washington
June 24, 2009
Although not a typical reason to visit the Capitol, the colors in Washington, D.C. promise to be outstanding this October. Being from Maine, I know that from my biased perspective, nothing can beat the foliage of autumn in my home state. The displays of the deciduous trees in D.C. will pale by any comparison.
However, I still hope to see all the colors that will be on the west lawn of the Capitol on October 11, which incidentally is also National Coming Out Day (as it has been every October 11 for years). This time, the colors will be represented in the rainbow of people who are coming to town to mark the 40th anniversary of the Stonewall Riots, which were a watershed event in American queer history, and as importantly to raise several issues of national concern.
The first issue I hope to represent is my severe disappointment that President Barack Obama has abandoned the campaign promises that were made to the queer community around the transformation of such legalized discrimination as the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) and the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT) policy of the U. S. military. In both cases, although he broadly promised to work for the end of DADT and the rescinding of DOMA, his administration has contrarily publicly supported both policies. I want Mr. Obama and the nation to know clearly that there is a huge justice issue at stake here. While queer Americans have been promised “the check is in the mail” (meaning that now is not the time for fairness), we can surely hope that we will hit his administration’s radar screen some day. Sooner. Or later.
The second issue I hope to address is to bring attention to the stirring of a call for a federal guarantee of civil rights, including same gender marriage. We are fighting not just for equal rights here, but equal rites, as well. While most of the work for queer equality has occurred at the state level, history tells us that civil rights are not won in that way. Without national Supreme Court rulings, and without national Civil Rights Acts, there would remain a huge disparity in legal equality for formerly unprotected racial groups. I am an advocate for a national solution for human rights for all people—including the queer community. I want it for the fabulous families I know that are headed by two moms or two dads. I want it for the kid who lies awake at night in his or her bed wondering how to survive at school, in their neighborhood, in the marketplace, or even just in their family. I want it for the next Matthew Sheperd. The time has come. It has come in every state of the Union. It has come even in the face of Proposition 8, where by vote we legally denied equal rights to Californian queers. (Sadly in that vote, the separation of church and state was irrevocably compromised by faith communities who were themselves broadly protected under federal and state laws.) The time for change has come in the multiple granting and rescinding of equal rights in Maine. It is not about protection alone; it is about living our lives as full citizens—including married citizens when that is what we choose. And it needs to be sooner. Not later.
The third issue that I want my presence to address is a level of gratitude to those pioneers, many of whom crossed gender boundaries in their fashion choices, and who stood up to the para-military estate forty years ago at Stonewall. Those grandmothers and grandfathers (and grandpersons) of the liberation movement deserve to be honorably remembered. Without them, I don’t know if I could be who I am, and I am truly grateful. I want to bear witness to that gratitude with my own being, in hopes that my grandchildren will never directly experience the hatred my community has known daily. I want that for them before they are even born. I want it now because you can’t take hatred back once you practice it. Later will be too late.
The fourth issue is a deeply personal one. I am called to be an activist—a disrupter, an interferer, a lamp burning brightly on the hillside—for the causes of justice. I am called to remind the planet that justice is not about tipping scales, of who outnumbers, outvotes, or outweighs the other. Justice is to “roll down like waters” (thank you, Amos), drenching anything and everything in its powerful, quenching, and refreshing way. As an activist, I am called to make sure we all get wet, and that nobody is knowingly denied the chance to drink. And frankly, I also need to be getting to that sooner. Not later.
So I hope to be in Washington in October to witness the colors. Even in a tight economy, I hope to find a way to land in that Capitol city to say to anyone and everyone who will look and listen that the time has finally come. There is no more waiting for the check in the mail. There is no more asking us to hold off for a better political moment. There cannot be issues more important than the delivery of justice. Rushing water doesn’t wait. And neither should we who proudly proclaim that all of us are created equal.
I ask you to join me there. Bring your brightest, most wonderful flamboyant selves. Come as you are—gay, lesbian, bi, trans, straight, questioning, queer, intersex, intergender, not sure, not labeled, not patient. And let’s see if we can finally get this justice thing right. Not later. Now.
Although not a typical reason to visit the Capitol, the colors in Washington, D.C. promise to be outstanding this October. Being from Maine, I know that from my biased perspective, nothing can beat the foliage of autumn in my home state. The displays of the deciduous trees in D.C. will pale by any comparison.
However, I still hope to see all the colors that will be on the west lawn of the Capitol on October 11, which incidentally is also National Coming Out Day (as it has been every October 11 for years). This time, the colors will be represented in the rainbow of people who are coming to town to mark the 40th anniversary of the Stonewall Riots, which were a watershed event in American queer history, and as importantly to raise several issues of national concern.
The first issue I hope to represent is my severe disappointment that President Barack Obama has abandoned the campaign promises that were made to the queer community around the transformation of such legalized discrimination as the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) and the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT) policy of the U. S. military. In both cases, although he broadly promised to work for the end of DADT and the rescinding of DOMA, his administration has contrarily publicly supported both policies. I want Mr. Obama and the nation to know clearly that there is a huge justice issue at stake here. While queer Americans have been promised “the check is in the mail” (meaning that now is not the time for fairness), we can surely hope that we will hit his administration’s radar screen some day. Sooner. Or later.
The second issue I hope to address is to bring attention to the stirring of a call for a federal guarantee of civil rights, including same gender marriage. We are fighting not just for equal rights here, but equal rites, as well. While most of the work for queer equality has occurred at the state level, history tells us that civil rights are not won in that way. Without national Supreme Court rulings, and without national Civil Rights Acts, there would remain a huge disparity in legal equality for formerly unprotected racial groups. I am an advocate for a national solution for human rights for all people—including the queer community. I want it for the fabulous families I know that are headed by two moms or two dads. I want it for the kid who lies awake at night in his or her bed wondering how to survive at school, in their neighborhood, in the marketplace, or even just in their family. I want it for the next Matthew Sheperd. The time has come. It has come in every state of the Union. It has come even in the face of Proposition 8, where by vote we legally denied equal rights to Californian queers. (Sadly in that vote, the separation of church and state was irrevocably compromised by faith communities who were themselves broadly protected under federal and state laws.) The time for change has come in the multiple granting and rescinding of equal rights in Maine. It is not about protection alone; it is about living our lives as full citizens—including married citizens when that is what we choose. And it needs to be sooner. Not later.
The third issue that I want my presence to address is a level of gratitude to those pioneers, many of whom crossed gender boundaries in their fashion choices, and who stood up to the para-military estate forty years ago at Stonewall. Those grandmothers and grandfathers (and grandpersons) of the liberation movement deserve to be honorably remembered. Without them, I don’t know if I could be who I am, and I am truly grateful. I want to bear witness to that gratitude with my own being, in hopes that my grandchildren will never directly experience the hatred my community has known daily. I want that for them before they are even born. I want it now because you can’t take hatred back once you practice it. Later will be too late.
The fourth issue is a deeply personal one. I am called to be an activist—a disrupter, an interferer, a lamp burning brightly on the hillside—for the causes of justice. I am called to remind the planet that justice is not about tipping scales, of who outnumbers, outvotes, or outweighs the other. Justice is to “roll down like waters” (thank you, Amos), drenching anything and everything in its powerful, quenching, and refreshing way. As an activist, I am called to make sure we all get wet, and that nobody is knowingly denied the chance to drink. And frankly, I also need to be getting to that sooner. Not later.
So I hope to be in Washington in October to witness the colors. Even in a tight economy, I hope to find a way to land in that Capitol city to say to anyone and everyone who will look and listen that the time has finally come. There is no more waiting for the check in the mail. There is no more asking us to hold off for a better political moment. There cannot be issues more important than the delivery of justice. Rushing water doesn’t wait. And neither should we who proudly proclaim that all of us are created equal.
I ask you to join me there. Bring your brightest, most wonderful flamboyant selves. Come as you are—gay, lesbian, bi, trans, straight, questioning, queer, intersex, intergender, not sure, not labeled, not patient. And let’s see if we can finally get this justice thing right. Not later. Now.
Tags: activism, civil, dadt, doma, gay, marriage, obama, rights, stonewall
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