2008-11-08 - 12:33 a.m.
Well, my dears: What did I tell you? Did I not predict that Obama would win – and that so would Proposition 8, the law which defines marriage as being valid only between a man and a woman? Lo and behold: We have President Elect Barack Obama. And the How shall I put this so as not to give offense: OK.
First of all, I am pleased enough that Obama won. Believe me, I am not someone who is in agreement with many of his public policies – but I also am willing to admit that Obama’s being thrust into the spotlight of the presidency will temper some of the extreme stuff. Even with Democratic majorities in the House and the Senate, he won’t be able to just blithely raise taxes and make treaties with Iran to push Israel into the sea.
And there are plenty of other pluses, as well: After all, the election of President Obama is seriously going to make so many people so happy. And, if the US is happier, well, isn’t that a good thing? I think that it is Aristotle who suggested that if you think happy thoughts, happy things happen. OK, maybe that isn’t Aristotle – maybe that’s Susan Powter. But you never know: So many folks are happy right now, perhaps they will be nicer to each other and to me, and the world will be a happier place. You never know.
I mean, even a crusty old ghoul such as myself has to admit that I am rather pleased that some black kid, growing up in Compton or whatever, can actually say “well, you never know, I COULD be president when I grow up!”
But the Proposition 8 thing: This is what provides the Pyrrhic Victory for the Dems. We must now face the fact that very many of the nice folks who helped sweep Obama into office are the same vile human beings responsible for passing Proposition 8. It’s as though they said, “Ahh, hurrah for being liberal! But the gays are animals, not humans, so they do not count as being part of our liberal community!”
No, wait, strike that: These are the same people who just passed the law decreeing that all chickens and bunnies on farms must be allowed to take a walk for an hour a day. So these are the people who voted for Obama, and are nicer to animals than they are to the gays. It’s enraging!
Of course, most of the blame for the passage of this law must be laid at the door of the gay leadership, who only belatedly came to realize the threat that looming upon them. If you will recall, as far as a few months ago, the press was full of articles about how no one was donating money to the “No on 8” movement. Movie stars were staying shy of it – even those married hags Ellen Degeneres and Rosie O’Donnell (married to different women, not each other)
Actually, I came out here to West Hollywood tonight to attend a screening. Several hours before the screening, I set myself up right here at the Java Junction, which is my current favorite coffeehouse. It was my pleasure to run into a whole pestle of folks I knew, from a former boss at Pathetica, to a couple of delightful online correspondents whom I had never met in the flesh, but who knew me from the internet ether. It’s always charming when someone turns to me and calls out “Johnny Darling!” Because that isn’t really my name – and, yet, it’s my alter ego of sorts. Who knew it would be so simple to re-invent oneself, just by creating a fake “groovy party boy” name for myself?
But my point is, as I left the screening, I found myself right in the midst of this hastily called rally protesting the passage of Proposition 8. And do you know what? It was so easy and pleasing to be swept into the current of the crowd. In spite of the setback of being deprived of a Civil Right, the crowd was upbeat and unified – gay folks gathered together for something that wasn’t getting drunk or getting laid. There was a sense of coming together (not cumming together, you dirty pig!), and making a statement – and the statement was, “Down With Proposition 8!”
Mind you, what can one say? The protest was the activist equivalent of shutting the door after the herd of cattle has stampeded. The vote was over – and the only thing these kids could do was howl at their own stupidity over being hoodwinked. You see, we are the people to blame for losing the vote: The Mormons were raising money for this months ago. Don’t you remember the articles in the paper expressing mystification over how no one was donating money to the NO campaign? It’s as though everyone thought that the same folks who voted for Obama would vote No on 8. Well, look again!
Anyway, it occurred to me that the real only point of the protest was to show numbers – to show that there was a sizable portion of the gay public who were actually affected by the vote. And, proud to bolster the number of the protest by at least one (one and a half, I suppose since I am now rather fat), I marched with the youngsters who waved “No on 8” signs and blew whistles, and gustily cried out “Hey Hey Ho Ho Homophobia has got to go!” I marched from San Vicente to Fairfax, holding my twenty pound shoulder bag, too, which is not a light burden. We passed stores and bars – and in each of them folks came outside and applauded us as we walked by. Some joined us, increasing the crowd. It was really very exhilarating.
It was a good thing to do: The police shut down all of Santa Monica Blvd in one lane, and cars going in the other direction all honked their support as they passed us. It was kind of loving. And what a pleasure to see gay folks showing up to something other than a party. Sadly, I noted no celebrities (other than a librarian at my library, who was out with his husband and must be considered a very local celebrity indeed). But it was a happy-angry crowd. Or is the phrase, “angry-happy?”
I loved the shaggy-haired lesbians, who screamed and shouted and waved signs reading, “Did We Vote on Your Marriage?” I loved the cute college twinks with the glasses and sideburns, waving signs reading, “So are you happy now?” But eventually, at around Fairfax, I got winded. Those young kids really march much faster than I do! The crowd buzzed with reports that the next day they would go and protest at the Mormon Temple on Santa Monica and Overland. Hopeless! It isn’t the Mormons who are the problem – it’s the hypocrites! And, in this case, the hypocrites were amongst us, disguised as us. How disgusting! And so I turned around, bought myself a sandwich and went to the Night of a Dozen Go Go Boys at Here. Gay liberation takes many shapes, you know.
