Before marriage (equality) was imagined

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Last week’s US Supreme Court ruling declaring that marriage is a fundamental right and that barring same-sex couples from access to that right is unconstitutional unleashed torrents of joy and commentary that have only now, almost two weeks later, started to ebb. Some folks have bemoaned how long it took us to get to this point. Personally, I’m astonished at how quickly it happened, especially relative to other social justice movements. In a single lifetime, my lifetime—in fact, in what I call my “conscious lifetime,” i.e., the period since adolescence—the status of LGBT folks has shifted from our being regarded as illegal, immoral, and insane to our achieving constitutionally sanctioned participation in what is historically the most revered heterosexual institution of our society. How amazing to have been present for all of that—and even engaged in some parts of it.

Just days after that ruling, we took a long-planned trip to Philadelphia, where we joined in celebrating the 50^th anniversary of the birth of the gay rights movement. Now, the modern queer rights movement is usually dated from the Stonewall uprising, that iconic moment when a group of LGBT folks refused to be herded into a police paddy wagon outside a Mafia-owned bar in NYC. That event, now commemorated around the country by Pride parades and festivals, happened in the early morning hours of June 28, 1969, some 46 years ago. So why was this celebration on July 4 in Philly—wrong day, wrong year, wrong city—billed as the 50^th anniversary of the LGBT rights movement?

It's all about the parts of history we don't usually hear. Here's the story, for folks who don’t know it, followed by glimpses of this great three-day celebration.

The contemporary LGBT movement in the US actually began in the 1950s, though it was known in those days as the “homophile” movement (the word means, roughly, “affection for the same”). The primary focus of that movement was on freedom from discrimination, especially in the workplace, and freedom from police harassment.

The event we celebrated in Philadelphia this past week, which preceded Stonewall by four years, was a carefully coordinated series of pickets (a tactic borrowed from the African-American Civil Rights movement) carried out by members of this homophile movement. These gay and lesbian picketers chose Philadelphia because it’s home to the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and perhaps most importantly, the Liberty Bell. Other folks organizing for their rights—notably, the abolitionist movement and the suffrage movement—had also employed the symbolism of that bell. In each case, the argument was that the nation was not living up to the promise of the founding documents or of the caption inscribed on the Liberty Bell, “Proclaim Liberty Throughout All the Land Unto All the Inhabitants thereof.”

   

Barbara Gittings,
a key organizer of the Reminder Days,
walking the picket line.

In 1965, identifying as “homosexual” (the term widely used at the time by LGBT folks as well as their detractors) could easily land someone in jail or a mental institution, could mean medical “treatments,” the loss of your job, your housing, and your relationships with family and friends. Yet in that atmosphere, 40 brave folks chose to picket in front of Independence Hall in Philadelphia. The demonstrations began on July 4, 1965, and continued annually through 1969. The activists called these “Reminder Days”—reminders that a group of citizens were still excluded from equal rights. The last Reminder Day, which happened in 1969, just days after the Stonewall uprising, had about 150 picketers. Then, recognizing that Stonewall could be (to quote a speaker from last week’s event) the Boston Tea Party of the LGBT movement, the organizers turned their skills to planning the first ever Pride parade in NYC for the year after Stonewall. And with that commemorative march, the tradition of annual Pride celebrations and, as legend has it, the contemporary gay rights movement were born.

It's not a stretch to say that these daring Reminder Days helped build the momentum that would launch the modern movement, provided the fuel that Stonewall then ignited. So why don't we hear more about these folks and their persistent picketing? Good question, to which I have no definitive answer. But here are some thoughts.

Frank Kameny, the other main organizer,
talks with onlookers

First, the early homophile movement has often been criticized as too assimilationist, dismissed for being so willing to tolerate persistent homophobia, so limited in its aims, so eager to accept tolerance as an acceptable goal. Some of these early activists didn't even question the then-dominant notion that homosexuality was a mental illness—they just thought that this shouldn’t matter as long as the condition did interfere with a person’s ability to function on the job or in the world. One indication of their conservative bent was seen in the strict dress code required of people in the picket lines—men wore suits and ties, women wore dresses, heels, and pantyhose. The goal was to look “normal” and employable, in keeping with the aims of that early incarnation of the movement. But from the perspective of later years and a more ambitious agenda, their stance has been regarded as regressive at best and drenched in internalized homophobia at worst.

Which brings us to a related reason for the relative invisibility of this launching moment: by 1969, the year of Stonewall, picketing, which was initially regarded as a radical and risky undertaking, was no longer viewed as radical enough. This was the era when the student movement, the anti-war movement, the feminist movement, and others were in full, flowery swing. People were rioting in the streets, taking over campus buildings, burning draft cards, turning on and dropping out, clashing with police in hand to hand battle. In the midst of that sort of energy, the Stonewall rebellion probably looked far more like a happening worthy of consideration as the origin of this vibrant social change movement than orderly pickets in front of Constitution Hall ever could be. Interestingly, during the 1969 picket, some marchers already began violating the dress and behavior codes, wearing more casual clothing and even holding hands —a clear sign, if anyone were looking for one, that the movement was morphing. Whatever the reason, Stonewall quickly became the moment of the movement’s mythical birth, and the Reminder Days were largely forgotten.

For the two of us, both LGBT history buffs, this trip was a total treat, a chance to immerse ourselves for a few days in the events of 1965–1969, a pleasure magnified by the Supreme Court’s recent marriage ruling. The juxtaposition of our simultaneous engagement in these half-century-old events and in this remarkable, singular moment in contemporary history was sort of mind blowing. What an incredible time to be alive! Imagine it: to have been around at the time of those early pickets and to still be around to witness this momentous shift in our place in society. What a gift to be here, in this movement at this moment.

Our time in Philly was a three-day submersion in queer history, community, and celebration—all framed over and over by reminders that we have so much work yet to do. Marriage was a marvelous accomplishment, but it doesn’t solve enduring problems of anti-LGBTQ discrimination in housing and employment. It doesn’t address the pervasive difficulties faced by trans folks, especially trans women of color. It doesn’t address the needs of LGBTQ youth, especially in poor, rural, or conservative areas where LGBTQ identity is far from accepted. It doesn’t address issues related to immigration, doesn’t provide answers to income equality, doesn’t solve problems of second-parent adoption and other parenting concerns. Heck, marriage doesn’t even solve the problems of huge numbers of LGBTQ adults who are, for whatever reason, not joining in that institution.

But let me stop with the lecture and tell you about our marvelous time in Philadelphia. First, it felt surprisingly affirming to realize that the city of Philadelphia was honoring this day as a major historical event. There were 50^th anniversary banners hanging all around the Independence National Historical Park (the site of Independence Hall, the Constitution Center, Congress Hall, the Liberty Bell Center, etc.), and the museums that participated had created impressive, curated exhibits about it. It wasn’t just a token acknowledgement of the date, but a full-blown city-sponsored occasion. Against this very validating background, we spent our time dwelling in the historic, the celebratory, and the challenging.

The "Gay Pioneers" marker with
Independence Hall in the background.

We began our adventure with a visit to a marker installed by the city of Philadelphia honoring these so-called Gay Pioneers, where we caught a glimpse of James Obergefell, the lead plaintiff in the marriage case (and thereby the benefactor of these early activists’ daring). From there, we moved on to a packed itinerary of museums, discussions, films, and panels, with meals grabbed on the run and an inadvertent tour of much of downtown Philadelphia. We heard panels on legal issues, on legislative issues, on historical perspectives, saw a film about “Gay Pioneers” and one about Black LGBTQ identities, attended an interfaith service led by Bishop Gene Robinson at historic Christ Church (where we sat in the pew that had been reserved for George and Martha Washington and John Adams), and were treated to lively audience discussions that pointed to everything from the roots of the LGBT movement in other movements to the sexism of (even) the queer movement—although that last notion was rejected by the event’s organizer. Between schedule events, we wandered among sponsoring museums and institutions—the Museum of African-American History, the Museum of American Jewish History (which has started a Tumblr site to collect LGBT oral histories), Liberty Bell Center, and the Museum of We the People at the National Constitution Center—all of which had major special exhibits honoring this 50^th anniversary.

I learned so much ... new facts and also new perspectives on things I knew. But rather than dwell on all that, let me share some of the mood of these excellent days through a few photos. 

Three of the original picketers

The Liberty Bell Center's silhouette depiction
of the Reminder Days
(complete with Barbara Gittings' sunglasses)

The National Museum of American Jewish History
offered congratulations outside ...

... and exhibits related to Jewish queer experience inside

     

The African-American History Museum
featured Gerard Gaskin's photographic study of the
house ballroom culture ... 

... a celebration of Black and Latino
urban queer life that provided a safe space
and a support system for queer people of color.

A pixellated Bishop Gene Robinson
led an interfaith service ...

... at historic Christ Church, where many "founding fathers" worshiped.

Out lesbian entertainer Wanda Sykes
served as m.c. for the final ceremony ...

... where a break in the rain and some rousing music
inspired a bit of flag waving, both queer and patriotic

All in all, it was a good weekend. A good Reminder.

© Janis Bohan, 2010-2015. Use of this content is welcome with attribution and a link to the post. 

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May Day!

Yesterday was May 1, a celebratory day for a variety of reasons in many countries around the world. So, it should come as no particular surprise that yesterday was a certifiably remarkable day here as well. I’m not talking here about the international labor movement, Maypoles, or rituals of pagan origin (well, maybe that last one, sort of). I’m actually talking about an amazing day of celebrations signaling the stunning progress of LGBTQ rights.

First, as many of you know, yesterday was the day when civil unions became legal in Colorado. The event featured parties of all sorts around the state, with some—like Boulder’s—beginning Monday evening, well before the magical midnight moment and extending on into the bleary-eyed hours of May 1. Although my partner and I didn’t get “unionized” (or, as someone said, “civilized”), we went anyway to witness this momentous beginning, as did scores of other folks who weren’t entering into unions. Out Boulder, who coordinated the party, managed to turn a gaggle of people gathered into a functionally bland room into a joyful community festival—lots of cake decorated with rainbow flags, lots of munchies, lots of excited chatter, lots of roses, lots of dancing to tunes set up by a local DJ. And lots of people. Couples, of course, and also whole families, groups of friends, whole “wedding” parties who came to celebrate this moment in the lives of folks they love. All in this big, beige room in the county clerk’s office building.

I didn’t get to actually see anyone go through the interview and sign the document registering their relationship as “real” before the law. But a friend who did said it gave her goose bumps. I believe it. When same-sex marriage became legal in Massachusetts, where we were living at the time, I blogged from the courthouse in Northampton and had the same experience. The officials performing these administrative formalities were anything but perfunctory as they welcomed each couple. In fact, they were so happy, so gentle and respectful toward the couples who came in that it brought tears to my eyes. That moment is hard to describe, the moment when you get to be present as relationships that have been largely invisible and totally discounted, sometimes for decades, are finally acknowledged as authentic in the eyes of the state.

After welcoming May 1 at this midnight gala, I then spent a piece of the afternoon at a middle school assembly—which, perhaps surprisingly (it was middle school, after all), continued the same theme. Here’s the story: A few years ago, the librarian at Manhattan Middle School decided she needed to be more active as an ally to LGBT folks—especially LGBTQ kids. So she devised some strategies to get LGBT-themed books to kids without their needing to check them out (and thereby reveal what might be seen as forbidden curiosity). Gradually, she also began to do other things—speaking gigs, working with Boulder Valley Safe Schools Coalition, and founding an allies club. That club, which started as a small group of kids, now has over 100 members.

For the past two years, the club has organized a diversity assembly focusing on LGBT issues. This year, the theme was taken from Gandhi: “Be the change.” The assembly included brief, one-sentence testimonials from several club members (“I’m an ally because …”), music from two local LGBTQ-affiliated choruses, and a rap performance by the allies club based on a video about Gandhi. The event wrapped up with lots of incredible food and chat time with the performers, some of the kids, some school personnel, and audience members, who included the superintendent of the Boulder Valley School District, several school board members and staff, and assorted community activists.

Afterward, driving home, I was thinking about the day and the pace of change it represented. I grew up before Stonewall—which is to say, before the contemporary LGBTQ-rights movement was even launched. I hid out for decades out of fear, some of it realistic and some goblin-generated. Then things began to change—slowly, it seemed, frustratingly slowly. Yet now, here I am, living in a world where same-sex couples are granted the legal rights and responsibilities of marriage and where middle school kids (that’s middle school kids!) take visible, active, and vociferous stands on behalf of LGBTQ rights. And they do it with the active support of allies who include librarians, teachers, and school superintendents. All within my adult lifetime. Not, it turns out, so slow at all. And I get to witness all of this, all on one lovely day in May.

Out Boulder’s ED said it so well in her comments at the civil unions celebration: There’s still a long way to go, a lot of work to be done. Much more than just full marriage rights. There’s work to be done on trans* issues, work on divisions within our own community, work on the lingering (and recently increasing) incidence of HIV/AIDS, work on poverty and poor health care, on bullying, on immigration rights and parenting rights, on lingering discrimination in employment and housing, on the high rates of smoking and alcohol abuse in our communities. There’s plenty left to do. But this May Day, it was time to dance with a DJ, rap with Gandhi, and eat cake with rainbow icing.

As I write this, I find myself regretting that I don’t have any pictures of these great events to share with you. So to make up for it, let me share some photos of yesterday’s other big event: our May Day snowstorm! 

Here's the view outside my bedroom window this morning

        

         

followed by scenes in my yard and bunny prints outside the coffee shop window .

      

         

                              

Snow in April—even tons of snow—was a bit unusual, but still tolerable. But May? Boulder got a foot of snow on Wednesday, obliterating the former 6-inch record for the date.

I figure it was Nature’s way of celebrating May Day and all the glorious joy it held.

Civilized!

On Tuesday, the Colorado General Assembly voted to legalize civil unions for same-sex couples in Colorado. To understate the point, this is huge! It’s something activists in the state have worked long and hard to achieve. In this state, it’s made even more marvelous by the fact that just 20 years ago, some folks were calling Colorado the “hate state” for its passage of Amendment 2.

Back then, Colorado was notorious as the (to all media appearances) least LGBTQ-friendly place in the nation. In truth, that judgment was overblown—media frenzies do that. And in truth, Amendment 2 ended up having some very positive long-term consequences—including, arguably, Tuesday’s success. But no one could have predicted that just two decades later, same-sex couples would have that same state’s approval to form legal unions. It’s not yet the whole shebang, and folks were pointing out that it wasn’t marriage before the applause even died down. But it’s a step—a giant step—in this long trek.

Besides, for Coloradans this really is as good as it gets … at least for now. Civil unions are the greatest possible victory in a state that has an explicit constitutional ban on same-sex marriage. We’re not the only state in this particular fix. It’s one of several patterns in the crazy-quilt national patchwork of state-by-state laws that include legal support for, indifference to, and prohibition against same-sex unions of various sorts. The result can be a legal and logistic nightmare for same-sex couples, who may be married in one state, have no legal protection in the next, and see their relationship explicitly negated in a third.

Who can possibly keep up with it all? Well, conveniently, Sean Sullivan, a blogger for the Washington Post, has done us the great favor of summarizing the current status (well, current until Tuesday) of various laws and constitutional amendments related to same-sex marriage (ssm) around the country. To see where your state stacks up (and to be astonished at the piecemeal quality of marriage rights at this juncture), check out his blog here. These maps are really eye opening. Some of them are also clickable, if you want even more detail about your state—or someone else’s, for that matter.

All of this becomes really relevant given the pending Supreme Court consideration of two marriage equality cases, which I wrote about recently. It turns out that the potential impact of these two cases is greatly complicated by this legal hodgepodge. Right now, nine states and DC have marriage equality. The rest have an assortment of conditions ranging from constitutional and legal prohibitions on ssm through various partnership and civil union statutes (and various combinations of the above) to total silence on the issue. The two cases that will soon be considered by the Supreme Court may solve none, some, or all of these discrepancies among states.

One case challenges California’s Proposition 8, which rescinded marriage rights briefly accorded in that state. That ruling could affect only California or, in the broadest case, it could affect all states with legal bans on ssm (like Colorado). The other case challenges the federal Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA; in all federal matters, marriage is between one man and one woman). It argues that it’s unconstitutional for the federal government to refuse federal marriage rights (social security, tax benefits, etc.) to married same-sex partners living in states where marriage is legal. This ruling could have a narrow impact (in just those nine states and DC). Alternatively, a broad ruling could ripple far beyond those jurisdictions, opening the way to broader enactment of marriage equality laws.

To add to the uncertainty, legal technicalities could influence both these rulings and their long-term impact. Basically, the court could decide these cases in a million different ways (approximately). If you’re curious about these things, here’s a pretty comprehensive discussion of the ins and outs of the matter.

Most folks who track these things carefully (which does not include me, except remotely) expect that the court’s rulings will not be so broad as to affect marriage rights in all the individual states. With the current court’s conservative leanings, we might even hope that the rulings will be narrow, since having a negative outcome from the Supremes at this point could stall the movement for a long time. In fact, some people argue that, given the recent rather steady—and occasionally dramatic—progress toward acceptance of marriage equality, we might be better off with the slow, steady slog of legislative and ballot box change. Whatever, hope springs eternal.

Stay tuned. The court will be hearing oral arguments on these cases on March 26 and 27, and they’ll probably issue rulings by June.

For better or for worse

Marriage equality (aka “gay marriage,” “same-sex marriage”—ssm, for short) seems suddenly to be on the fast track toward nationwide acceptance. The speed of the shift seems really breathtaking. But I have to say, I find myself as much troubled as excited by its speed and magnitude. First, more on the trend and then on to the troubles …

This shift toward support for ssm has been in the wind for a while. I’ve mentioned before the growing sophistication of queer organizing around this issue—the smarter messaging, the sharing of resources and ideas across state organizations fighting for ssm (or against laws prohibiting ssm). We’ve also seen hints for a long time in the steady change in the polls. Gradually, over the past few years, public support for ssm has increased; now it’s over 50%.

The gradual trend took a major leap when President Obama “evolved” last year to a position of support for marriage equality. Lo and behold—partly because of his public support, but also because of the two other items I just mentioned—last November saw a sea change. For the very first time, after losing every single electoral battle over the years (more than 30 of them), ssm won in four states: it was approved in three, and a fourth state refused to pass a law banning it. First time ever! Times 4!

Also, the Supreme Court has agreed to hear two ssm cases. Whether that’s a good thing or not remains to be seen. If they rule against it—which could well happen, given the make-up of this court—that will set a precedent that could block serious progress for a long time. But still, the fact that the issue has moved to the fore enough that it’s on the Supremes’ docket is itself amazing.

And then this week, some combination of those events has brought unexpected supporters of same sex marriage out of the woodwork. First, a whole flock (100+ and counting) of noted Republican politicos have signed on to an amicus brief (an argument submitted as a “friend of the court,” or amicus curiae in Latin … who says it’s a dead language?) urging the Supremes to support same-sex marriage. Not to be outdone, today, representatives of a bunch of major corporations—Alcoa, Apple, Citigroup, Facebook, Google, Intel, Nike, REI, Starbuck’s, etc.—submitted their own amicus brief urging the court to grant same-sex couples the right to marry.

It’s astonishing: just one presidential election cycle ago, opposition to ssm was the political default, even for liberal folks like Obama. Now, a short 4 years later, the folks we usually think of as conservative obstructionists when it comes to progressive social issues are stumbling over each other to make the biggest, boldest statement in support of same-sex marriage. And these are important stumblings: some folks argue that these particular amicus briefs, coming from conservative politicians and staunch capitalists, may have real impact in swaying the court toward support for ssm. More impact than briefs submitted by the more natural allies of LGBT equality—human rights and social justice groups, professional fields like psychology and family services, etc.

On one level, this is wonderful, astoundingly good! Equal rights for LGBTQ people are not only being recognized by more and more people; they are being actively promoted by individuals and institutions long considered enemies to that very equality. But let’s not get so carried away by the exhilaration of being seen and supported that we fail to think about the implications of being seen and supported by folks of this particular political stripe. Now, I'm not the first person to have this concern—in fact, I just heard the African-American writer and activist Kenyon Farrow talk about very similar issues in a presentation at CU. But it struck me today in a whole new way as I saw these erstwhile opponents lining up on “our” side. 

To frame my point, I want to drift back a few decades to the feminist movement in the 1980s. I was teaching a course in the Psychology of Women, and one particular book sprung from nowhere to become the talk of the field. The book was based on what has been called “cultural feminism.” Briefly, this approach says that women and men are inherently different (a position that feminists had been arguing against). But turning the old devaluation of women on its head, cultural feminism argued that these differences are good. Women are actually superior to men, the approach suggests, in many ways that matter—empathy, social connection, a morality of caring, cooperative (vs. competitive) problem solving, etc. Remarkably, even folks who had previously opposed feminist aims loved this book, too. It promised the best of all worlds: you could claim a feminist position without alienating anyone.

Then, some feminists said, basically, “Wait a minute. What’s wrong with this picture? Feminism is a social change movement. If folks who support the status quo love what we’re doing, we must not be challenging much of anything at all.” As people began to analyze this cultural feminist position, the problem became clear. Cultural feminism was popular with supporters of the status quo because it reinforced long-standing stereotypes about women. Sure, it glorified those stereotypes, but as early feminist had argued, a gilded cage is still a cage. Cultural feminism allowed people who represented and wanted to protect the status quo to claim support for feminist aims while actually keeping women in their place.

You see the parallel here. Perhaps it’s time for us to say, basically, “Wait a minute. What’s wrong with this picture? The LGBTQ rights movement is a social change movement. If folks who support the status quo love what we’re doing, we must not be challenging much of anything at all.”

At minimum, we should be asking whether we cease to be a social change movement when our goal is to be assimilated to the status quo. Is same-sex marriage, like that Psych of Women textbook, so well received precisely because it doesn’t challenge the status quo? Because it buys into conservative principles, promising that queers who are brought into the institution of marriage won’t be causing any further trouble, making any more demands? Is “marriage equality” to become our gilded cage?

Now, I get how grand it feels to see Republicans and corporations arguing for our equal rights. That’s a refreshing change! But doesn’t it say something about how progressive the achievement of those rights will really be? Could their support be viewed, instead, as co-optation for now, a debt to be repaid in the future?

“Sure, let them in. That will make them more stable, like us. Make their families look like ours. Make them beholden to the same political and social forces that keep us in line. As long as they don’t do anything different with marriage, let them in. Give them this, and maybe they’ll forget about all those other pesky things they sometimes nag us about. Like immigration reform that honors LGBT families. Support for trans rights. Recognition of a range of diverse sorts of families. Support for homeless queer youth. Separation of medical benefits from marital status. The continuing battle with HIV/AIDS, especially for poor people. The links between LGBTQ people and other oppressed groups. Absorb and divide; divide and conquer!”

And then, once subdued by the gift of belonging, might we find we've indentured the movement for the foreseeable future? As Kenyon Farrow pointed out, might these newbie supporters argue (as they already did in New York, where he lives) that we owe marriage equality to them. “The Democrats could never deliver,” they could say. “It wasn't until we stepped in that the marriage equality movement was finally successful.” Might we be persuaded, and in the process sign on for a whole philosophy that we would otherwise reject? 

I'm not just being a grinch here. I know that being let in, finally belonging feels good. We all want to feel like we’re part of our community. But as a wise teacher/heterosexual ally once said (in a video co-produced by my partner), we all want to be part of the family, but sometimes the family is dysfunctional. I’m not arguing that we should refuse these folks’support, questionable though the motives and outcomes may be. I’m not saying that we should just stand down on the same-sex marriage issue. Plenty of people have much to gain by the success of this part of the LGBT movement. But I am saying that we need to think about this, think about who we’re signing up with, who likes us now. It says something crucial about the movement that these folks are joining in. It says that we are not dangerous, are not threatening to the existing social order, the status quo. And to me, that is a very sad outcome—some would say simply an unfortunate by-product—of a movement whose goal was initially precisely to change the social order.

The LGBTQ equality movement is not about to abandon this particular cause. It may be in for some though times, or we may be witnessing the approach of the end of this particular struggle. In either case, I beg us not to lose sight of our potential for changing the world—as opposed to being absorbed into the world as it is. We have other issues to address, and if we consider our cause won if/when we win this skirmish, we’ll have dropped out of the battle for social change and taken social acceptance as the consolation prize.

And the systems we started out to challenge will love us. How cool is that? (she asked, ironically).