I’m sitting here, several hours after I was supposed to have moved into the main floor one bedroom apartment, stewing a little and trying to relax on my IKEA mattress, sitting directly on the floor, bequilted and otherwise unadorned.
See, today’s move didn’t exactly work out the way I’d planned. I spent much of the day yesterday packing my things into reusable grocery bags and suitcases and a few boxes. And hauling much of it to the hallway, the bathroom, and the living room on the main floor of this apartment, the second floor of the house.
Today, I was supposed to move into the first floor apartment, where Sandra and I are going to live for the foreseeable future.
I had it all planned.
I was ready.
I should have known better.
It started out kind of funny. The people currently living there were taking their sweet time moving out. The girlfriend was walking for coffees, was checking her email. The boyfriend was loading the car as quickly as he could, but it was still a car, and he was still the only one doing any work.
Around noon today, my roommate/landlord mentioned that the new renter was bringing his stuff by this afternoon. And yes, this is the guy who will be taking over my old room.
And this is how I’m currently sitting on my mattress, on the floor, in my old/current/present attic room, looking at piles of Adam’s stuff, and wondering if I’ll be able to move into my old place tomorrow after work.
What I’m working on in life is this; letting go of things I have no control of.
Today is the perfect example.
I had all my things together. Was ready. Had a plan. But in the end, life doesn’t really pay attention to plans, or things, or readiness. It just throws things out there. And waits to see how you respond.
Me, I went through the full spectrum today. Fear. Anxiety. Anger. Annoyance. Acceptance.
In the end, I did my laundry and went to the Gladstone for a few beers and some fries. That was me, waving the white flag.
No, it’s not really fair. I paid for that place. And tomorrow, Adam’s going to want to sleep here. So I’ll either end up on the floor in the living room or in my new place, and shoot me if I’m not in my new place. But for tonight, I can’t do anything about any of it.
So, I’m going to finish my beer, read a few pages, and go to sleep, knowing that I’ll have another long night ahead of me tomorrow.
Posted in looking in, ranting |
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It’s been wearing me down a little over the past six months. Like so much of life, the road from Calgary to Toronto has been much longer and complicated than we’d expected. When I came here in late November, I never dreamed it would take this long to get ourselves extricated from Alberta and living in the same house again. Although the kind of gentle (painfully slow) transition probably helps confirm that this is a good decision for us, it’s still be slow. Painfully slow.
Still, I’m focusing on the fact that the end is in sight. Maybe that’s why I’m feeling impatient. Restless.
The house is (mostly) packed. We’ve hired movers. I’ve booked three weeks off to drive and then get a little more settled in Toronto. This weekend, I move my stuff down to the first floor, separate apartment, of the house where I’ve been living.
Progress is being made. And yes, the passive voice on that sentence is entirely deliberate.
Three weeks from tonight, I fly back to Calgary on a one way and the next morning, we’ll begin driving and camping and exploring and enjoying some time off. I’ve been working so hard for the past six months, in my career, in my knitting design, in organizing and planning and arranging this massive life change. I’m exhausted, and I need some time off from everything.
So, that’s what I’m focusing on right now. Time off. Just around the corner.
And, doggies, of course.
Posted in going places, looking in |
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Today, the Supreme Court of California announced its decision about the challenge to Prop 8, a voter-approved measure to prohibit equal marriage in California. Many inspirational people and organizations have had a lot to say on this subject, not surprisingly.
I’ve been following my twitter stream closer than normal since the announcement was made at 10am PST today, and retweeting some thoughts that I’ve found particularly striking. Maybe my world is skewed by being surrounded by similarly open people, but I find great comfort in seeing all the words of support floating by from around the world.
Although extremely disappointed, I can understand the judicial reasoning behind this 6-1 decision. The voters effectively voiced their feelings on the issue last fall. It takes a strong and constitutionally-grounded argument to convince a court to overturn a voted-in piece of law.
And, one thing I’ve learned over and over again is that the laws of the United States do not yet effectively protect or even recognize GLBT people and their families. We are separate AND NOT equal in more ways than I can stomach. Employers are still allowed to discriminate based on sexual orientation. It’s impossible to be out and serve the military. Victims of horrible hate crimes based on perceived sexuality still all-too-often receive no retribution.
In a country where it’s still not often safe to just be gay, can we really be surprised that we’re not allowed to marry who we love?
Constitutionally, I get it. The courts tend to lead most human rights initiatives, but they often need to have enough support from the lawmakers, from congress, the senate, and from public opinion. And so, I know that it’s going to change. But big defeats, like the passing of Prop 8 last November, have me crying tears of frustration with the state of the world.
And, I blame our side for this loss. We lost. We weren’t as loud, as tough, or as strong as our opponents. And we need to do better next time.
I fail to understand why the people who do support the minority here, the people who ARE entirely supportive of equal marriage, do not have voices that are louder, words that are stronger, and arguments that are more resonant than the best complaints our opponents can come up with; that allowing me to marry my wife ruins the “sanctity of marriage”. Why didn’t more people get out and vote last fall? Were they all feeling pretty secure with the previous court decision to allow equal marriage? Was it because they believed Prop 8 wouldn’t pass, no matter what?
Or was it just that we cared just a little bit less than our enemies?
History has proven, again and again, that those who fight the hardest are often those with the most at stake. For couples like Sandra and me, if our fight for marriage fails, we lose the dignity of an official and legally recognized relationship. We lose the ability to declare a commitment to each other under the law. We also often lose numerous other benefits afforded to legally joined couples, where domestic partnerships are not an option. And we also lose that feeling of being truly equal to others, regardless of sexuality. We fight, first and foremost, for equality. For the right to be treated the same as the majority. For the right to live in peace and go about our daily lives.
But think, for just a moment, like one of the people fighting so hard against our causes. Think, for a moment, like someone who would create a carefully-drawn poster declaring “Gay = Pervert”. What, exactly, are they fighting for?
The folks who have mobilized so strongly against us are unified by one incredibly strong and powerful emotion; fear. They fear the life they know disappearing. They fear their own families, their own marriages, being called into a question of validity. They fear being perceived as gay themselves. They fear God’s wrath coming down on an ‘immoral’ world. They fear their children being forced into a ‘corrupted lifestyle’ by people like me and my wife. They fear this is all the beginning of the end of modern society.
These are pretty big fears. Pretty motivating fears.
I tend to forget that fear and hate are so much alive in the world. I’ve been out in my career for a decade now. I’ve been out to my family, my friends, even people on airplanes and in shops. If someone asks about my ‘husband’ (seeing my rings), I nearly always respond with something nice about my ‘wife’. I do this, not because I want to “ram it down people’s throats” as my enemies complain, but because my life is not one lived in fear of anything but a harsh word or two. (”LesbianDykeWhores!” shouted as us repeatedly during one Calgary Stampede.)
In short, I have never had to experience the fear of just being who I am, unlike so many others before me, or in different parts of the world. My fears are trivial when compared to that of losing my life, my livelihood, or my family… or my world.
If we’re going to win this fight - as we must - I begin to think that we need to learn from our enemies.
If it takes fear to win, then maybe we need to get afraid of the consequences. Not of the right to marry (or not), but of all that right symbolizes. Think of a world in which you can’t be honest, in which you can’t be out, in which you can’t be different. Be afraid of what larger and more terrible future these defeats signal. Use this as your motivation for fighting harder, for fighting longer, for not giving up.
Next, we need to fight the battles we can win… the small ones. We need to put our blinders on and start focusing on the small parts that make up the whole. We need to make as many small ripples as we can in order to create that wave of change.
If you think our enemies don’t care who I took to senior prom, you’ve already lost the fight.
Our enemies mobilize to picket every potential decision, no matter how small. They fight city councils on hate-crime protections. They show up to school boards en masse to protest same-sex dates at prom, to prohibit gay-straight student alliances. They write letters. They complain to Hallmark for printing wedding cards with two girls on the front. They boycott radio stations over Katy Perry and Jill Sobule. They call their senators, their mayors, their school board presidents.
If we each spent five minutes a day in conversation or argument or correspondence, the world would start to listen. In my own world, I’ve seen this happen, just by being out. Our neighbor across the street, a good guy at heart, confessed that before he met us, he was homophobic. Just by knowing us, having a quick conversation once in awhile, he’s changed his mind - and his vote.
Five minutes a day. Small ripples. Trust me on that.
And finally, we need to believe, just a little more strongly, that our side will win. Not “someday”, not “when it happens”, but NOW. We need to believe, as hard as we can, that the time for change is absolutely NOW. If we don’t believe it, how can we expect anything different from the rest of the world?
Maybe I’m corny for believing in the power of optimism. But for me, focusing on the positive gives me so much more energy than wallowing in the negative. Let’s recognize this defeat for what it is; a temporary setback that can - and will - be overcome.
The time for change is now, my friends. Let’s use this defeat as fuel for our collective fire, knowing that public opinion is ready and waiting to be swayed.
The true enemy of fear is education. Have the conversation with your friends, your family, and your coworkers. Have it with your neighbors and the people at church, or in your local yarn shop. Have it with anyone who will listen. Explain why equal marriage - and equal rights - are important. Make it personal, if it helps. Or, treat it as a human rights issue. Or both. Even if you never want to get married, talk about the reasons why other couples should be able to marry.
Then, start fighting your small fights. Cross off “husband” and write “wife”, or “spouse”, or “partner” the next time you fill out those official forms. When someone asks about your husband, if you’re married to a woman, gently correct them. Join your employer’s diversity committee, if they have one, and help counteract all those who want to restrict rights one tiny omission at a time.
Finally, when days like today happen, take a little time to grieve, but don’t get lost in a feeling of hopelessness. Things will change for us, as they have for so many groups before. But not if we don’t care enough to fight, tooth and nail, for that change. Believe it will happen, and focus on how good it will feel the day we all realize there’s nothing left to fight for, that we’d already secured our freedom from hatred and from prejudice.
This fight starts with fear and it ends with freedom.
Let’s turn this anger, this fear, this sorrow, into the beginning of a renewed fight for what we believe in; that we are equal, and that it’s high time we start getting treated that way.
Posted in looking in, ranting |
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