Month: May 2013

I remember the music that was playing as we waited for the results on Election Night in 2012. All of us stood for hours at the Election Night Party with Minnesotans United for All Families, watching the big screens with various news stations reporting the results. Collectively, the group would exclaim in excitement or groan in worry. I noted the music selections three times that night. First, I can recall that I was watching both the photographers from the media outlets as well as the crowd when Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive” came on over the loudspeaker. In one sweeping motion, all of the photographers turned themselves to the crowd, but the crowd wasn’t paying attention. Some folks were singing along quietly, but the photographers may have been disappointed that nobody started disco dancing. Then, when Macklemore and Ryan Lewis’s “Same Love” came on, there was a bit more excitement from the crowd, but not on a large scale. Finally, when we found out that the amendment had failed and discrimination would not be written into Minnesota’s Constitution, the song that immediately started the room singing was “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey.

Today, six months after that night, same-sex marriage was signed into law by Governor Dayton and will be legal as of August 1, 2013.

We didn’t stop believing.

Looking back on months and months of writing about rights, love, equality, amendments, cognitive dissonance, politics, swag, and all-things-wedding, it’s been a roller coaster of thoughts, faith, events, rallies, phone calls, fatigue, emails, arguments, and empathy. A large-scale campaign turned into a small-scale lobbying effort. A victory turned into a victory. A conversation continued and included a great number of topics for both the community as well as the whole state of Minnesota.

Kudos and congratulations to all.  Everyone played a role.

Some roles were obvious and prescribed. Minnesotans United for All Families and the other activists involved with other groups–Project 515, OutFront MN, HRC, etc.–had the mission to get the freedom to marry in Minnesota in 2013, not anything less than that. Go big or go home. It was the role, the raison d’etre, of the organization to stay focused on marriage, period. Messages were all about marriage. Funds were for marriage. Press was for marriage. Nothing but marriage. If they’d said, “Sure, you know, if you don’t stretch for marriage this year, civil unions would be okay,” there wouldn’t have been a campaign. The message was love, with rights.

As the independent and nonpartisan GLBT media, Lavender could–and did–say that this community required something of our legislators this year, ultimately marriage. Our role was to push the issue and hold both organizations as well as elected, public legislators accountable. We wanted marriage equality for this community and it was the sole power of the legislators to give it. In representing a large and diverse GLBT audience, it was crucial to maintain empathy with people who already had love, but need rights this year. People who need these rights will die before the end of the next legislative session in 2014–so if rights didn’t happen in 2013 by way of marriage, they needed to happen by way of civil unions as a stopgap. The message was rights, with love.

Our roles were different. Each organization and person came from a different perspective and played their roles differently. Tactics were based in theory, but none of us have done this before, so we didn’t have a script. If we could’ve purchased a formula or game plan for winning marriage equality in Minnesota, it would’ve made fundraising a whole lot easier. We’ve learned that this lobbying effort took $2 million dollars–cheap!  Had we known that would be the price tag for marriage equality in Minnesota, we’d have emptied our pockets. But it wasn’t quite that simple. Even now, after the victory, it’d be difficult to prescribe how another state could do what Minnesota did, with a positive, pro-marriage lobbying effort that followed a negative, anti-amendment campaign. The efforts started well before 2012 and has cost people in this community so much more than money. And, we don’t know what the turning point was for each legislator in how they decided to vote–they, and their reasons, are as diverse as our community.

Thinking the people who were at the Capitol when the Governor Dayton signed the freedom to marry into law, we all had different roles and perspectives. To speak rather broadly about the demographic groups, some of the people were of the prevalent, powerful class who are accustomed to closed-door meetings and lobbying…while other people were less powerful and completely unfamiliar with having anyone work behind the scenes on their behalf, let alone come out of a closed-door meeting with their best interests in mind. Some had faith that quiet progress was being made, some wondered where the demonstrations and loud clanging cymbals were. Some folks were those who volunteered to raise money and make phone calls, given a script that was proven to be successful in its tactics. Others in the crowd were the recipients of such phone calls who either agreed to give money or had a difficult time getting off the phone with the fundraisers because those successful scripts were relentless. Some of the community never want to get married, others have been waiting for decades to do so. Some didn’t think it’d ever happen, some knew it was only a matter of getting to the vote and it’d be a done deal. Some wore their hearts on their sleeves for the past two years, others are still in the closet.

No matter what our roles or perspectives or organizations, each person contributed to this victory. It is with empathy and the ability to put ourselves in the each other’s shoes that we can find unity even in disparity. Victory can be enjoyed by all, because equality was won for all. And, to think back on Chris Kluwe’s statements on empathy in the last issue, we can stay strong as a community by being able to empathize with each other, just as we ask the larger society to empathize with us. Doing so is crucial to our survival and future as a community within a larger society. Just as we stood together on the lawn at the Capitol knowing we all had different perspectives and roles in this campaign, we were all there together. Unified.

I went to the Capitol that day with my friend, Amanda, and her son, Will. Will is two-and-a-half years old and narrated our walk from Cathedral Hill saying things like, “A-A-Andy…we’re going to cross Oxford, next.” He knew the streets of St. Paul already. I was impressed. He kept wondering if he’d get to “talk to Mark Dayton.” He held the sign his mother made saying, “MARRIAGE EQUALITY IS GOOD FOR OUR CHILDREN.”

He will not know these years before all loving couples in Minnesota were allowed the freedom to marry. I cry with relief for Will and all the children who won’t know a time when this community was fighting for the right to marry just as my generation doesn’t know a time when this community was defined as having a mental disorder or illness. But, knowing that these times existed will help our group empathy as we proceed into the next eras and fight for more rights.

There was no soundtrack to that hour at the Capitol when history was made, no singing along to “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey. But, we marched to downtown St. Paul from the Capitol to the beats of a drumline with police officers stopping traffic and embraced a new anthem, “Love is the Law.”

With love and thanks,
Andy

I’m writing this the Friday after the Minnesota House of Representatives passed the marriage bill with a vote of 75-59 on Thursday, May 9. The next issue of Lavender will hopefully be one full of triumph, with a special section covering all-things-marriage at the Capitol.

Earlier this week, I had the opportunity to interview ex-Vikings punter, Chris Kluwe, for the second time as Editor of Lavender. As of press time, he had been released by the Vikings but his next venture is not yet known. I do hope whoever picks him up knows they’re getting a football player with a halo-effect of decency, intelligence, wit, and empowerment. I know I’m not alone in feeling fortified by that guy; his example made it easier to speak up for the community, whether using our own words or his. His were usually more colorful and to the point, no more so than when he speaks of empathy.

In the interview later in this issue, Kluwe talks of how civilizations who lack rational empathy inevitably fall. Societies war with each other, societies splinter and war within themselves…but if we were to put ourselves in each others’ shoes and see how an action could negatively affect someone, we will be better prepared to not explode or implode as a civilization. We can see how this works on macro and micro levels; particularly, on the macro level, the GLBT community is fighting for rights in the workplace, in the state, in the nation. Helping the fight is telling stories, humanizing the issues, and forcing empathy. I use “forcing” in terms of evoking empathy as there can be a daunting level of denial in our society–a refusal to acknowledge another’s situation as being similar enough to mean that the playing field should be level. Sometimes, this forcing of empathy happens because the tables turn and the person who refused to put him or herself in the position of others is suddenly in that position–as when someone’s family member comes out and it’s suddenly not okay to discriminate against GLBT people. And, sometimes, there’s no forcing of empathy required, it comes by way of leading by example and well-worded messages.

I received a Letter to the Editor as our last issue went to press, it’s hand-written by Nancy Hauer of White Bear Lake. It’s short, poignant, and hits home the point that people need to have empathy for each other, that our state needs to have empathy for its people:

It’s astoundingly wonderful that couples who want to be legally married but currently can’t in our state may soon be able to do so.

Not having the basic human right to marry the consenting adult of one’s choice also deeply affects the level of well-being of every currently single person who knows that if they do marry, the marriage will not be legal.

Although not nearly as extreme as when African Americans had no rights and were legally considered 60% of a person in slave states, our not having the basic human marriage choice right that everyone else has in our state makes us, perhaps, 95% human in the eyes of our state. Everyone wants to be considered 100% human.

Letters like this are the equivalent to a speech made on the floor of the House of Representatives. Eloquence in ink on a college-rule sheet of paper. I am thrilled for Nancy–and so many others–that this community is on the cusp of being considered 100% human, at least on the basis of marriage equality. May we never forget that we need to continue to bring others with us who are treated as subhuman, which will be a continuing and evolving struggle.

Some of us were able to follow the debate as it happened in the House of Representatives, in the gallery or on TV, online or streaming. Twitter was very effective for following the debate and it was clear when something that was said struck a chord across the listening audience. Memorable pieces came from Rep. Laurie Halverson who levelled the parenting experience by mentioning how we all know “how it hurts to step on a Lego” and Rep. Rena Moran made it clear that she was seeing through the community’s eyes as she thought of her ancestors and their fight for civil rights: “Either we are equal or we’re not equal.”

Rep. Steve Simon spoke of empathy in a calm, assured way during the debate. A vocal supporter of the rights of this community, he took us all to a place of being taught how to be empathetic:

So, this is about freedom and love and commitment. It’s about live and let live, live and let love, you might say. But, it’s also about compassion. And I know it’s most difficult sometimes to be compassionate where the object of the compassion is someone who you maybe don’t know. You don’t know who they are or what they are or what they hope for. But in that vein, there’s a story I love from my own religious tradition about a rabbi who was meeting with his students in a religious school and the rabbi asked his students the question, “What is the precise moment when night ends and a new day begins?” 

One of the students said, “The moment when night ends and a new day begins is the moment when there’s enough light that I can tell the difference between a cedar tree and an olive tree.” And the rabbi said, “No, that’s not the answer.” Another student said, “Well, Rabbi, I know. The moment when night ends and a new day begins is the moment when there’s enough light that I can tell the difference between a sheep and a goat.” And the rabbi said, “No, that is not the answer.” The rabbi said, “The moment when night ends and a new day begins is the moment when you look into the face of a stranger and see the face of your brother. Until that moment, no matter what time it is, it’s still night. But at that moment, that’s when the new day begins.” I like the sound of that, a new day. I hope we can all go there together and I urge you to vote yes.  

Our society as a whole is leaning toward tolerance and equality for the GLBT community, using empathy as either its catalyst or its fuel–or both. We need to take the momentum of these historical moments and carry them further. We should look to our future and consider the prophetic possibilities of catastrophes that can end our civilization according to a brash book called Beautifully Unique Sparkleponies, and hope that we’ve got our proverbial shit together before such catastrophe strikes, so that we survive it. But, whether there’s a doomsday on the horizon or not, let us learn from what the empathy of others has given this community, and what we can pay forward to those less fortunate.

With gratitude,
Andy

Have the votes happened at the Capitol? Do we have marriage equality? This issue went to press without any movement happening at the Capitol, yet. In the week between hitting “send” and it hitting the stands, we may have found out if all Minnesotans will get the Freedom to Marry in 2013.

I feel just as I did before Election Day in 2012: Anxious and optimistic, but protective. I am optimistic that the legislators will do the right thing and be on the right side of history by voting for marriage equality. I am protective of this community, whether or not it passes (or has passed).

This topic has not left my mind and heart since November 6, 2012, when victory in defeating the amendment turned into “What’s next?”

Are we celebrating today, are we waiting with hope in our hearts, or are we pointing fingers? You know the saying, “Victory has a thousand fathers, defeat is but an orphan.” The victory in November of 2012 was shared by many and there were clear sides: you vote no or you vote yes (and have a direct impact on the outcome). This campaign for marriage equality (that does not rely on our votes on a ballot) is less easy to categorize or conceptualize. As a community, we have grappled with it. We have looked for as easy of an answer as the two options we were given in November, but it’s not that simple. It’s not that easy. There is more to it than all-or-nothing and looking at what that might constitute does not make someone against equality, it makes someone against nothing. It’s up to our legislators to decide the future of this community’s rights; they are the sole people who have the power and they will be held accountable.

And that’s how we do this. We explore the ideas and we challenge the people in power to do their jobs.

We’ve published all of the Letters to the Editor we’ve received to date–there have been very few. There have been some Facebook posts on Lavender’s page but, again, very few. These facts indicate that the community is also considering various scenarios, I’d say, while still largely wanting marriage equality. A while back, there was a comment on a Facebook post that was critical of Lavender talking about civil unions. I paraphrase, but it was something about how accepting civil unions because we don’t deserve better is abusive and this community has had enough of that kind of abuse. I disagree with the assessment that saying civil unions are better than nothing is the same as saying civil unions are what the community deserves, instead of equality. Such an idea that the community doesn’t deserve full equality has never been published in Lavender. But I can understand how even raising the option can also raise hackles.

My own hackles haven’t relaxed since 2012. I have hated being media because I have hated being objective, to be honest. To be objective means that I have had to challenge my own ideas and thoughts and be open to looking at others. At first, when civil unions were mentioned to me, I treated the concept like Voldemort in Harry Potter–as if the mere mention of the term had power and that power was evil–and I wanted the term to never be uttered again. I lost that argument. As the weeks progressed, I came to see that civil unions are an option, but I will still argue that they are not an equal substitute for marriage. Civil unions are not marriages of a different name  or equal to marriage, because civil unions aren’t granted with uniting in mind; they’re designed to appease a group while making sure that they’re not allowed to become legitimized and “normal.” That is abusive, especially for people who haven’t come out yet or for young people who are trying to figure out who they are without hating themselves.

I worry about what constitutes more abuse for this community. Silencing each other is abusive. Shaming each other is abusive. Being told by legislators that they’re not going to vote this year about whether this community gets marriage equality is abusive…that this community’s lives can just be on hold for another year and in limbo. Being told that a party has this community’s best interests in mind but that they won’t make equality happen is abusive.

I hope that this article is irrelevant because marriage equality has already happened by the time you read it. Regardless, I want to thank the legislators who unquestioningly supported this community and those who took risks to do so. I hope you have had the opportunity to go on the record with your support so that your credibility with the community is beyond reproach. I want to thank you for your action as well as your words. I want to vote you back into office.

If we haven’t reached that point yet in the legislative session, I hope that the people in power see how important it is to remain credible with this community. Words are one thing, actions are another…and actions will give this community what it deserves: equality.

With you,
Andy