Positive Liberty

I volunteer with a gay community group, and a new member was there at the last meeting. He was an older fellow, and following a few introductions, we got to talking about our life situations: where we work, where we grew up, our hobbies, our life partners.

He mentioned that he and his partner were preparing to celebrate their thirty-first anniversary, and I congratulated him.

Then he dropped a bombshell.

As casually as anything, he told me that last week was the very first time that he and his partner had ever publicly affirmed their relationship. By this he meant that their names had been printed next to each other in the volunteer group’s very small, altogether private newsletter. Before that, there had been no recognition at all.

Here is a man, I thought to myself, who has shared his life with another man for five times as long as Scott and I have been together. They have been with one another for longer than I have been on earth. And until last week, they had not affirmed it in even the most trivial of ways.

I went from being proud of him to feeling confused–hurt, almost. I wanted to ask him why, but I didn’t dare. I think I knew. Surely their situation must have dictated silence for some reason. But couldn’t they have fought somehow? Even a little?

Do you want to know why we don’t have gay marriage? Look right here. This is it. Until we affirm ourselves, how can we possibly expect others to do the same?

This November, it seems likely that twelve state constitutional amendments will pass, denying gay marriage essentially forever in those states. As I understand them, the possible U.S. constitutional challenges against these amendments are feeble. The moment is slipping away. And we’ve got no one to blame but ourselves.

Did we ask for too much? No. We asked for far too little. We asked the government to affirm our relationships, but we failed to affirm them ourselves. That’s why we’re losing.

To conservatives, gays are like children. Come to think of it, conservatives view nearly everyone as children–with the important caveat, of course, that there is something sacred and ennobling about being a child of the great human family. But we gays are like a toddler who can’t even ride a tricycle, and we’re asking for the car keys. Or rather, that’s what we look like when we don’t stand up for ourselves.

If you are gay and in a committed relationship, then affirm it. Put a picture on your desk at work. Put both of your names on the mailbox, first names too. Wherever it is possible, insist that your partner be included, in conversation, in print, in person. Consider holding a ceremony if you haven’t done it already. Put it in the local newspaper; it isn’t hard. Wear a ring if it suits you. Get listed on a domestic partnership registry. They’re not perfect. Heck, they’re demeaning and often worthless, but do it anyway.

Resolve to do something concrete, and public, and positive. Don’t sit behind the veil of anonymity and give money to some national gay rights group. Decide how much you would give, then spend that money instead on making a difference in your own life, on making your individual relationship more visible. Lobbying groups don’t change people’s minds. Only people change people’s minds, and it happens one mind at a time.

If you are gay and single, affirm the relationships of those around you. Mention them; include them. Partnered or single, our fight is your fight. Wherever you are, don’t let the years of your life go by while the struggle is raised, and fought, and lost.

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