The day Prop 8 passed in California, I found myself at a protest march in Long Beach marching with hundreds of other grieving and dismayed Californians. Today I find myself living in Maine after a similar vote on One, again dismayed and grieving. It seems Mainers come from a different breed than Californians. There are no riot police yet, no promised protest marches that will shut down traffic in Portland. There was one very mild mannered and New-England-polite round of speeches held at city hall that I attended with L. today.
I am still baffled by the right of the majority to remove the rights of the minority. If we had put it to a popular vote, I doubt the Lovings would have been allowed to get married either. It baffles me that at the rally today I listened to a man tell me I was not being “Jesus-like” because I was for gay marriage. I refrained from telling him that I didn’t think that hatred and discrimination was a very Christ-like characteristic at all. What does it mean when the American citizens of 31 states have rejected a basic human right for me and my fellow queers? (And if you think it’s just about the right to a piece of paper, think again.)
If you have time, make your way over to Cat Chapin-Bishop’s blog for a moving guest post about one man’s view of defending marriage. He has the best idea I’ve heard all day:
The way to save our marriage would have been to take all that money spent on anti-gay television ads, and give it instead to cancer research.
At the protest marches in Long Beach, my favorite protest sign said “Gays 0, Chickens 1” (for an overview of Prop 2 and the chickens go here). Somehow I feel like the chickens have won again.