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While we wage this batte in CA to regain our civil rights for the GLBT community across the land, we have asked some of Instinct's writers to contribute their thoughts about their experiences across Southern California. This will be a continuing series, so please check back often. We hope these blog entries will spark discussion--and more--in our community. First up, Bob Kasunic, speaking from the heart about what our defeat on Prop 8 has meant to him. Please leave comments here and make sure your voice is heard.
Blame The Mormons
By all accounts, I'm a pretty mild-mannered guy. I think I've been called Clark Kent more times than Dean Cain. But the disheartening passing of Prop 8 has certainly brought out my inner Superman and an insatiable quest for justice.
I've long been involved in community service and political organizations, just usually as a silent auction chair or table captain at a black tie event. When I first started volunteering for the No on 8 campaign, I offered to do, "anything but stand on the street corner, shouting and waving a sign." Yet in the past week I've worked a polling station from dawn to dark in rain and fog (in SF) to convince voters that it's just wrong and unfair to strip people of their fundamental rights as well as having attended my first (of many more) political rallies.
Yesterday, after marching the streets of West Hollywood the previous night, I joined thousands more as we marched on the Mormon Temple in West L.A. While the sheer number of people was impressive, what was more striking was the diversity of the crowd; gay, straight, black, white, Asian, Latino, young, old, professionals in suites and ties along side "club kids." We were all angry, outraged and hurt. The Mormons made a great whipping post for all of those emotions that are running amuck in our community.
Be forewarned, I'm about to piss some people off. Don't get me wrong, the Mormons contributed a significant amount of money and did all they could to ensure that Prop 8 passed. But the truth is, we let them, along with everyone else who worked to take away our rights.
In addition to the religions groups, I've heard people want to blame the Latino and African American communities. I've also heard many people blame the leadership of the No on 8 campaign; that they didn't do enough, or what they did do, they did wrong. They were too soft, the ads weren't good or they should have been in Spanish and have run in more African-American Communities.
So who is to blame? How did this happen?
We got comfortable. That's what happened. In our bubble, life was good. Many of us could barely find some one to date let-alone marry, so "This doesn't really affect me. I don't want to get married" (no, seriously, I heard that reasoning from gay men). Besides, others were fighting the fight for us, right? (and in all fairness, many people were. You don't just get 4.9 million votes with without some hard work and leadership). As I was going to volunteer at the No on 8 offices a few weeks ago, I invited a friend to join me. He declined saying, "I really want to go for a run instead. I feel like I ate too much today." Now, I'm as vain as the next gay guy in WeHo, but, baby, I can get my abs back in a few weeks -- it's going to take me years to get my fricking rights back.
As angry as I still am over the entire situation (and I am angry), I believe that the passing of Prop 8 is the BEST thing that has happened to our community in decades. Yes, I said the best. From everything bad, something good happens. This is the wake up call to our entire community, an entire generation. It has finally pushed us to that tipping point, the point at which the momentum for change simply becomes unstoppable! Many of the faces I saw at yesterday's rally were not faces I had seen previously at any of No on 8 events. These were people, like myself, who, in general, would not consider themselves protesters or activists, but they are now. As a community, we are finding our voice and no longer relying on others to speak for us. We are fighting as one, along side our allies, to claim what are our fundamental human rights.
When I went to the the Mormon Temple yesterday, sign in hand, shouting, "Shame on you" and "Tax the Mormon Church", I didn't go just to yell at those who are legislating from the pulpit (although it felt good), I went to let the world know that I had had enough. No more Clark Kent. I deserve the same rights as the people who were standing safely on the other side of the iron gates of the church filming us. And I want them back. In a few weeks, when it all dies down and the cameras go away, we must keep the march going, figuratively and literally. This fight has just begun. History will mark November 5th, 2008 as the start of this generation's civil rights movement.
The danger, as Robert Kennedy warned in 1966, addressing a South Africa torn apart by apartheid, is comfort. His words could have as easily been written today:
"For the fortunate amongst us, the fourth danger is comfort; the temptation to follow the easy and familiar path of personal ambition and financial success so grandly spread before those who have the privilege of an education. But that is not the road history has marked out for us. There is a Chinese curse which says "May he live in interesting times." Like it or not, we live in interesting times. They are times of danger and uncertainty; but they are also the most creative of any time in the history of mankind. And everyone here will ultimately be judged -- will ultimately judge himself -- on the effort he has contributed to building a new world society and the extent to which his ideals and goals have shaped that effort.
So shed that mild-mannner and find your inner Super Man (or Wonder Woman). And ask yourself, when we DO once again have the right to marry, "How will I judge myself and the efforts I contributed?"
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