I want to raise the bar again. When we were first coming out, we learned to lower our standards and take what we could get. We tried to look grateful when you said “I disagree, but I still love you.” Hell, most of the time we even were grateful. But right now I don’t give a damn whether or not you agree with me, or with us, or with any of this. Because what I want to know is, the next time you hear somebody saying that I am somehow less because of who I love, will you speak up for me? What I want to know is, if I raise my glass in a toast to her will you celebrate with me? If I march for our chance to have the same legal rights that you do, will you march next to me? If I grow weary of this fight and need a place to mourn all that it has cost, will you cry with me? If your church says there is no place for us in heaven will you stand up for me? I want to raise the bar again. I don’t want to know your theoretical beliefs about my sexual orientation. I want to know that when you look at me, you see a human being and not a theological debate. If we throw another party in celebration of our love it’s not enough for me that you show up and look dutiful. I want you to dance. And if you can’t dance with us, or laugh with us, or speak up for us… if I haven’t ever seen you smile when you look at us together, then I don’t want you there. Do you hear me? Are you listening? I don’t want you there. Because your silence may not be costing you anything, but it is costing us everything.
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December 4, 2009 at 4:12 am
Casey
I spent the last three weeks before Election Day this year in Maine, fighting Proposition 1 – that state’s version of Prop 8, which wound up taking back the marriage rights we’d won in the state legislature last summer. Like any good grassroots campaign, we had a script to work off of when we talked to voters and recruited volunteers – and like any good campaign worker, I adapted it as the days went on. The first words out of your mouth determine whether somebody will stop and listen, and I experimented with a lot of things during those weeks. In the end, confronted by an apathy that threatened to drive me insane (particularly on college campuses) I started asking, point blank, “do you have gay friends?”
That made people stop – and the puzzled look on their faces, wondering why I could possibly be asking, what it could possibly matter, always surprised me. People almost always said yes, so it wasn’t like the existence of gay people was foreign to them. I would follow this up by telling them, again point blank, “Your gay friends need you to stand up for them now. Will you commit to voting No on 1?” And the harder ask, “Will you give a few hours of your time to help fight this unfair proposition? Are your gay friends worth that much to you?” The rewards of this method were pretty high – I had one of the better volunteer recruitment rates in our office – but the costs were high, too.
Many, far too many times, somebody would tell me that they did indeed have gay friends, that they opposed Question 1, but that they didn’t plan on voting, because it was too much effort. Others would tell me flat out that they didn’t care that much about the issue to give any of their time. At least a few had the grace to look ashamed. It hurt every time. But there was something, other than my success rate, that made this tactic worth it – seeing straight people who appreciated the challenge to step up.
You speak today of raising the bar – I think we have sometimes done our friends a disservice by subjecting them to the soft bigotry of low expectations. They can do better, and I think a lot of them want to, and just aren’t sure how, or if it’s their place. People like to be invited, and the best of them will rise to the challenge. It’s important to know that when you issue a challenge like this, the results are going to hurt – people will disappoint you, and you will have to know how to deal with that – whether it is time to shake the dust from your feet, or to call upon the Lord’s peace so as to show them patience and grace as they continue along their own journeys to acceptance. But with way, you’re right, it is time we know who our friends are – and let our friends learn more about who they are, and what they’re willing to sacrifice, along the way.
December 4, 2009 at 10:31 am
Brian
Welcome back! Thank you for putting into beautiful words what I have been trying to communicate for awhile now. I do not want to “agree to disagree” — we may disagree but you do not have my blessing to continue on treating me less than.
I want to print this and pass it out, write it on my wall, turn it into a song. Looking forward to more beautiful words!
December 4, 2009 at 2:31 pm
The Muser
Amen!
December 6, 2009 at 2:56 pm
AC
Thank you!
February 1, 2010 at 10:11 pm
SCG
Succinct and eloquently stated!! I want to share this at our next PFLAG meeting.