As the Supreme Court considers the legality of same-sex marriages and is expected to hand down a ruling any day, I keep occasionally giving myself a quick head-shaking to make sure I'm really hearing this right. This is 2013, right? Then how is it possible that I've known the right answer to this question for, oh, going on my entire adult life? I didn't even have any concept of gay couples or marriages until I went to college, and it seemed pretty clear to me then. But just when I work up a good head of steam about the meanness and cruelty of many people, I remember that a lot of those who call judgment on the LGBT community don't have any experience that will make the issue clear to them.
I do. I belong to one of the last groups that it is not only socially acceptable to be prejudiced against, but encouraged in many ways---even made a standard topic in the comedy industry. No, I'm not gay, though some people will believe I am no matter what I say. But that's not the argument for this piece. Here's how I know any kind of prejudice is wrong: I'm a fat woman. The whole sentence is important. Yes, Kevin Smith and Chris Christie have taken hits, but they're still seen as tolerable people. Fat women engender an entirely different attitude. Strangers on the street will crack jokes in your face (once, notably, a homeless-looking loser on a bicycle verbally insulted me and a friend). People who should treat you with respect will sneer just as you turn your back, but not quite wait long enough for you to miss it. And the discrimination in the professional world is well-documented; I hardly need to bore you with the details of the summer I applied for 37 teaching jobs before I was hired---by a good woman who actually read my resume and references and wanted me on her team, no matter what. God bless you, Vickie Earnhart, for saving my career.
This doesn't even cover the pathology of growing up a fat girl. I don't have the bytes for that here. But it's where I learned what mean and cruel and judgmental meant.
One might wonder how all of that translates to gay marriage. It seems a simple connection to me, but I was there. It might strain credulity, but here goes: God has spoken in my ear only twice in my life, once as a child, and the other as an adult. I was 20 or 21, pulling up to the stop sign on 5th Street in Pryor, around the corner from my grandparents' house, going to visit my friends Robbie and James at Robbie's house across town. I wrote about James a few weeks back, my friend who helped me understand that black and white experiences were different, no matter how we wanted to deny it. I was thinking as I drove to that stop sign of some of the things his race had suffered, and my heart was rebelling against any kind of "humanity" that would call itself superior to another based on skin color. How could anyone dislike someone with the huge heart, sweet smile, and loving spirit that James had? I may have even said the words out loud: "Why?! It's so wrong." And just before I hit the brakes at that sign, I heard the commanding voice I recognized from childhood: "Then fight this. Fight this."
Still a kid and not accustomed to ignoring authority, I knew instantly that this was a moment I would never forget. I've done my best to honor that charge from God, even though I know there must have been times I've fallen short. God and I have our policy differences from time to time, but I don't think I've ever questioned this one. It was clear to me as time progressed that I had taken it to heart, because I never saw this as a charge to fight racial equality only. Every form of judgment that does not rest on a person's merits alone is an insult to me. It jumps up and slaps me in the face sometimes. For instance, I had always revered Thomas Jefferson as a genius and a superior statesmen, even though I am less concerned with states' rights than he was. It nearly broke my heart to learn that the Indian Removal Act leading to the Trail of Tears was not the brainchild of Andrew Jackson, but of Jefferson. I still teach Jefferson's writings, but I include that detail so that my mostly Native students have more of the story, too.
Is it so much of a leap, then, to wonder why I support gay marriage rights? BECAUSE GOD SAID TO! And that's not just to me. Those who decry it usually do so on the basis of Biblical statements from Leviticus and other Old Testament documents. Yet everything I have been taught states that the New Testament supersedes the Old. No one EVER seems to remember Jesus and his living, loving example, the parables and teachings such as "Let he who is without sin among you cast the first stone," the overwhelming evidence that God is meant to pass judgment, not us.
Once we tear down the faulty constructs of the religious objections, there's not much left to argue. Legally, it can be defeated in one sentence: Citizens have no vote as to the rights of others. That's why they're called RIGHTS. Everybody gets them, or nobody gets them. Take your pick. Scientifically, there will be credible proof in the next few years proving that sexuality is determined not by choice, but by nature. I've seen that so many times I can't count, with students who came out to me literally YEARS after I knew they were gay. Socially, I guess those who want to can keep their personal world "untainted" by members of the LGBT community, but I've known some brilliant, talented, and fun people I would have missed out on if I'd worried about their orientation. And really, that's what it's all about. I find it more than a little weird that people even care. Do they demand proof from their hetero friends that they are "pure" enough for their company? See, that's just a little gross right there. I just don't need to know that information on either side of the coin.
If you still disagree with me, just go back in your mind to a time when someone hurt your feelings in the worst way. They picked on you because you had red hair, buck teeth, or big ears; they made fun of you behind your back because your parents were divorcing or you failed a class or your socks clashed or one of a million things that didn't DEFINE you. Remember that hurt, and remind yourself the promise you made that you would never, ever make someone feel as bad as you did. It's not hard to understand: Everyone Needs (Gay) Rights.
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