Learning from Our Mistakes

Editorial in yesterday's Los Angeles Times, "Prop 8's Battle Lessons", emphasis mine:

Ever since Proposition 8 passed Nov. 4, enshrining heterosexual-only marriage in the California Constitution, demonstrators from Sacramento to San Diego have staged daily marches and protests to express their anger and disappointment that homosexuals will continue to be treated as second-class citizens. It's a stirring movement, reminiscent of past civil rights struggles, but it raises a troubling question: Where were these marchers before the election?

Like nearly every aspect of the fight against Proposition 8, the recent protests come too late to make a difference. Opponents of the measure ran a disorganized campaign that consistently underestimated the strength of the other side. Apparently lulled by poll numbers that showed the initiative was likely to fail, the campaign's fundraising efforts were lackluster -- until it discovered that the Yes on 8 side was raking in millions from Mormons and members of other churches. By the time fundraising began in earnest, there wasn't time to mount a strong opposition.

Same-sex marriage advocates produced only one hard-hitting commercial, depicting a pair of Mormon missionaries ripping up the wedding license of a married gay couple, but didn't air it until election day. The campaign made little effort to reach out to the African American community, whose large turnout and overwhelming support of Proposition 8 were enough to put it over the top. And while it's nice that Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger now says he hopes that the courts will overturn the initiative, he was all but invisible before Nov. 4.

The failure of leadership extends beyond the governor. If there was a public face to the No on 8 campaign, it was San Francisco Mayor Gavin Newsom, who is (notoriously) heterosexual. Where were the gay leaders? It's hard to imagine the civil rights movement of the 1960s succeeding without Martin Luther King Jr. or Malcolm X, or to imagine the women's suffrage movement without the likes of Susan B. Anthony.

Wresting equal rights from a society reluctant to grant them isn't easy. It can take years of nonviolent resistance, passionate speeches and even in-your-face radicalism. If people who voted yes on Proposition 8 say they didn't see it as a civil rights matter, that's because until now there has been nothing resembling a civil rights crusade by the gay community. Courts can assist downtrodden groups, but they never have and never will be enough to guarantee equality on their own.

The fight for gay equality won't end with Proposition 8; it will continue until the battle is won, in California and across the nation. Supporters should take some lessons from the many mistakes made in this round.

This article raises a point I've thought about for many years now: we have no particular leaders, no one who is the voice for our aspirations and identity. Think about it: name one national gay rights leader right now this moment.

Were you able to think of anyone?

And I wonder why that is. Of course, leaders are born, not made; we can't order one (expedited overnight delivery) from amazon.com. What Milk was to San Francisco, we could sure use for the country. But who? Why are there no leaders for us like King and Anthony and Gandhi? Yeah, there are gay politicians; but most are busy with doing their jobs and handling many other issues in addition to gay rights. It's not their full-time job. Is it too scary a job for anyone to take on? Or do we just not want a leader like that, I wonder.

I think too of the black churches that were so instrumental in the civil rights movement, providing a rallying point, a communications center, and a spiritual foundation for everybody in the black communities in the South. We have nothing comparable to that at all; in some big cities, there are LGBT community centers or health clinics, but they don't seem to serve the same purpose. Certainly they aren't reaching all the millions of gays in smaller cities, towns, and rural areas across the country.

And apart from the logistics of organizing and communicating, I do think a spiritual foundation is the one thing that is most sorely lacking among us. A sneering, smartmouthed, and verrrrry self-righteous atheism is oh so fashionable right now among big-city gays, it seems, especially the younger generation. But although I'm certainly not suggesting everyone needs to be a theist, the lack of a coherent system of what I would call, for want of a better term, spiritual values justifying equal rights is a great deficit for our people.

Protests, politics, education, outreach, and rational arguments are all much needed; but seems to me we need something above and beyond all that too.

Because let's face it guys: a big chunk of what passes for gay culture is just vanity, consumerism, oneupmanship, masturbatory dating, and the latest gossip.

If there's a gay Hell, can you imagine anything worse than one long, eternal night locked in a gay bar? Even a really nice, or cool, or hip, or raunchy one? You know what I mean, fellas.

Now certainly that's not what all of us gays are about; myself, I've been inside a gay bar only 3 or 4 times in the last 15 years. But sad to say, that's about all there is to some gay lives. So what are we really all about as a community, as a people? Is there anything more to us than self-absorbed hedonism? Some of us are very good at pimping and primping the outer man, but is there anything inside that glittering shell?

I saw a California protester on the news the other day: a chubby young guy with his stubbly face caked up in whiteface and black eyeliner, wearing some kind of punked-out, Sister-Bertrille-goes-hip-hop nun's habit - standing on a street corner, whining into a microphone, "A chicken has more rights than me."

And my instinctive reaction was: And your point is . . . ? Who the fuck cares?

I think a lot of other gay guys had the same reaction, privately. I know plenty of straight guys and gals did.

Because that's the dress and attitude of a clown. A get-up that says, "I'm just playing around here, I don't take myself seriously." And if that's all you are, just a walking joke - why on earth should anyone else take you seriously?

Now don't get me wrong: if the boy wants to wear dresses and prance around all girlyfied every night in the clubs, getting loud and rude, and probably stoned or shitfaced, that's just fine with me, he's free to do all that, and I hope he's very happy with his life. Though of course I know boyz like that, drag queens or not, often end up in AA or NA eventually, after they've learned some hard, hard lessons about reality and responsibility. If they make it that far.

But that clown on the corner most definitely does not represent me, and does not represent many millions of gay men, those of us who have demanding jobs, who raise children or nurse elderly parents, who devote time and money to community projects and think about other people's needs; though of course lots of straight people think we are all like that fat guy in drag in broad daylight.

But it's not just the clothes and the makeup: it's the juvenile, self-important, me-me-me attitude that is so very unattractive. I don't know the guy, of course, and its true that looks can sometimes be deceiving - but I really can't picture this fellow doing much that's constructive, or working hard to get an education or keep a job, or sacrificing his playtime to do much for anyone else.

That's what I mean about a spiritual side, a spiritual depth to this movement. It needs to be about more than just our party side, our pretty little selves. We need to be a fully functioning part of the greater world all around us, have something to offer to the non-gay world, something to contribute to the greater good of those around us. Something to give to humanity.

And we need to show that side, that depth of soul, to our friends and neighbors. But what do we have to offer besides glitter and gossip and playacting? That's the question for today, guys.