The changing landscape of equality

Today’s New York Times carried the story: Just after midnight yesterday, marriage equality arrived in Maine. It became legal earlier this month in Washington State, and marriage equality will begin in Maryland on Tuesday. On the same day that these three states legalized same-sex marriage at the ballot box, Minnesota voters defeated a constitutional amendment that would have added a ban on marriage equality to that state’s constitution.

Prior to this November, same-sex marriage had been on the ballot 31 times, and it lost 31 times. This year, marriage equality was on the ballot in four states, and we won in all four.

Actually, to be precise, Arizona pro-equality voters defeated a constitutional ban on same-sex marriage in 2006, largely by “de-gaying” the campaign. They did this by arguing that their opposition to the amendment wasn’t about same-sex marriage, which was already illegal in Arizona. Instead, they opposed the amendment because it would result in the loss of benefits for many of the state’s seniors. Underscoring this position, ads against the amendment featured older heterosexual couples instead of same-sex couples. Just two years later, voters undid the “win,” handily passing an amendment banning marriage equality.

This year’s wins are testimony to how far we’ve come—in changing voters’ attitudes and in crafting successful campaigns that actually foreground marriage. And it speaks volumes that in this election, LGBTQ issues were not successfully used as a wedge issue on the national stage.

Those of you who are interested in these things might enjoy this excellent Atlantic Monthly review of the campaign for marriage equality since Proposition 8, the 2008 initiative that overturned Californians’ right to marriage equality. In it, Molly Ball outlines the ins and outs of the story behind this amazing shift from persistent losses to dramatic wins. Among other things, she discusses the “breathtaking epiphany” that began to shift the argument for marriage equality from a discussion of rights to a discussion of love and commitment. I first learned about this shift-in-process at the NGLTF Creating Change conference last year. And here it is, in the news, as the strikingly new narrative of the suddenly successful marriage equality movement.

In some ways, marriage equality now seems inevitable and even imminent, like it may become the law of the land even in my lifetime. But there are still major obstacles ahead, not the least of which is a fundamentally conservative Supreme Court, whose rulings on the cases it has chosen to hear may set the movement back rather than forward. Even a favorable ruling in the case of Prop 8 could leave Californians no farther ahead than if the Court had refused to hear the case, and no other states may be effected. The other case has to do with whether the federal government can withhold federal benefits from married couples in states that already approve same-sex marriage. In this form, the case will have no effect on states that already ban same-sex marriage, as most states do. In fact, some 31 states (including my home state of Colorado) have constitutional amendments banning same-sex marriage—which are far harder to overturn than simple legislative acts.

But even if marriage equality were achieved, this is only one issue that the LGBTQ community needs to address. In fact, many folks argue that we have spent far too much time, far too much money, and far too much political capital and citizen good will on marriage. Marriage, after all, will benefit only that slice of the community who want to marry; who have the social, professional, and physical safety to take such a step; who have a partner to whom they choose to make this very complicated social and financial commitment; and who believe in marriage in the first place. (This may not seem obvious, but that last item actually cuts out a fair number of folks.)  

Besides, while we have been focusing on marriage, other burning issues have been largely ignored—or at best, inadequately addressed: the invisibility of transgender people and their issues in the mainstream LGB(T) rights movement; the relatively high proportion of LGBTQ people (especially lesbians and their children and trans people) living in poverty—particularly LGBTQ people of color; legal and practical problems around parenting and adoption; continuing discrimination in employment and housing as well as in mainstream organizations like the Boy Scouts; persistent racism, classism, sexism, and other forms of prejudice and discrimination within the LGBTQ community. And more.

I may have told this story before, but it fits so well: Some years ago, when I was grousing about these things, my partner said to me, “But imagine it were any other group—people of color or poor people or a particular religious group—who were trying to achieve marriage equality. Wouldn’t you support them in that cause?” Of course, I had to say yes. And on that level, as a group seeking equality in one of society’s major institutions, I support the marriage equality movement. I have donated both time and money to the groups who are pursuing this end. But I’ve never stopped feeling uncomfortable about it on another level. At the level of all the issues left aside by this movement. The level where I resist the notion that the government should have any say in my relationships, in what sort of relationships should and should not be privileged (e.g., by eligibility for social  recognition and financial support—insurance, Social Security, parenting rights, health care, all of it).

Still, this is the movement we have at this moment, and I do celebrate the wins. Yet, I try to keep in mind that other issues are just as (or more) burning for many in our community. Some of these are linked to marriage—e.g., many parenting issues would be eased if same-sex couples could legally marry. Others wouldn’t be helped at all.

Looking for a way to reconcile these perspectives—the joy and the discomfort—I realize that we have learned some very important lessons in this process that may serve us well as we (hopefully!) turn to other issues. Here’s one lesson:

As the Atlantic article explains, a large part of the shift we saw this November from all losses to important wins was a shift in the message LGBTQ campaigns used in arguing for marriage equality. At some point, some activists realized that the LGBTQ movement had been appealing to people’s minds (“Let me give you some statistics about inequality”), while the anti-equality movement was appealing to their emotions (“Let me tell you a story that will move you”). It turns out that stories and feelings trump numbers and minds and when it comes to voting on complicated and confusing wrinkles in the cultural fabric. So these recent, successful campaigns focused not on data but on LGBTQ people and their allies telling their stories. Door-to-door canvassing didn’t involve peppering voters with facts. Instead, it involved having conversations about shared values and personal lives.

I was reminded of this lesson about the importance of stories this morning when I read this article about a lesbian couple’s attempt to adopt a child. I was moved by this article, and I imagined that others, even those who have not thought about such things before, might be as well: the simple fact of wanting a child made far too complex and fraught. This couple could have been heterosexual, and many of the same events might have transpired. But the limitations on their options for adoption and their inability to fully support each other stemmed from nothing but persistent prejudice and discrimination. Since I have lesbian friends with a new baby, I couldn’t help but think of them and of all the thought, hope, fear, excitement, anxiety, uncertainty, and joy they experienced waiting for their child.

In all of the many ways that children may come into one’s life, sexual orientation ought to be such a non-issue. As we turn to other issues of equality, stories like this one may be what changes hearts.