San Francisco is still a refugee camp for homosexuals, and the outcome of the November 4 election and the passage of Proposition 8 proves that we are still not safe outside this camp. It's amazing, frankly, that more has not changed in the 39 years since Carl Wittman wrote his "A Gay Manifesto." The Castro, our gilded gulag, is now at least owned, legislated, and patrolled by queers and queer allies, but even so, it remains a ghetto. Its luxury residences and upscale businesses have become less and less affordable to the majority of queers. Divisions within the community have resulted in certain members feeling alienated or excluded from it. Yet, though many don't feel entirely welcome in or simply can't afford the gay enclaves of San Francisco, there are still few other places where we can express ourselves without fear of retribution. So we stay, as we have little choice.
We find ourselves at a barricade in our march for liberation. We all feel angry, hurt and demoralized by the passage of Proposition 8. Rightly, many now ask: why didn't more of us do more to stop its passage? Speaking from my own experience as a young, gay man of humble means, marriage is low on my personal list of priorities. I believe that marriage as an institution is fundamentally flawed, and I don't feel the need to embrace it as a validation of my relationships. I understand that others feel differently, and I absolutely agree that denial of the right to get married represents one of the worst forms of discrimination possible, based on the same "separate but equal" garbage that allowed for legal segregation not too many decades ago. It seems that some, especially in the black religious community, take offense to this line of reasoning, and on that point I again defer to Wittman:
"There is no future in arguing about degrees of oppression. A lot of 'movement' types come on with a line of shit about homosexuals not being oppressed as much as blacks or Vietnamese or workers or women. We don't happen to fit into their ideas of class or caste. Bull!"
If my queer brothers and sisters (aunts and uncles, as it were) want to get married and they can't that certainly qualifies as discrimination. It indicates systemic oppression – a message to queers that we are somehow less valuable to society, that our relationships don't have the same value. Even so, the greater fight for equality, fairness, and respect requires, in my opinion, a shift of emphasis.
While this is a time for rage, it is also a time for reflection, for looking inward. The LGBT community is more fractured than many would like to admit. The AIDS epidemic has deprived us of a large part of our elder generation, and claimed the lives of many of our most outspoken and radical leaders – including Wittman. The mostly white, middle-aged gay men and women who can afford to own property in San Francisco seem largely consumed with upward mobility, as if disposable income can buy them power within society at large – it cannot. Racism abounds in the queer community, as evidenced by the Badlands picketing of a few years ago. Similar divisions exist along class, generational, and even gender lines. Most queers my age moved here to escape the hostility we faced in the places where we grew up, and to become part of a community where we feel welcome and safe. Instead we face a new kind of struggle, often getting stuck with intellectually and emotionally unsatisfying work and losing most of our income to the avarice of wealthy property owners. Our primary concern is how we are going to pay our exorbitant rent and still afford to eat, not making our partners the beneficiaries of our wealth.
Truly, the passage of Proposition 8, along with marriage amendments in Florida and Arizona, as well as an initiative banning adoption by gay couples in Arkansas, indicates something sinister – that homophobia remains virulent, widespread, unabashed, and legally sanctioned decades after Stonewall. Still, how can we expect society at large to respect us when we show such disrespect to each other? Now is the time to mend the fissures within our community. That means listening to the concerns of everyone and evaluating what is most important for each segment of the group. For instance, though safety concerns rank highly with most queers, they are even more imperative with trans members in our community, as evidenced by the brutal murder of Gwen Araujo. Let us not forget that, as we still struggle to pass an inclusive hate crimes bill at the federal level, its passage alone will not change the fact that we are still constantly threatened with violence. Homophobia oppresses us all, it is our common enemy, but it is not our only common bond. We need dialogue and open-minded attitudes if we are going to forge meaningful connections with each other.
We must make this a priority as only a unified movement can address the root of our oppression – homophobia. We must tackle this illness itself, not placate ourselves by endlessly treating its symptoms. We must assert ourselves and demand respect as equals, on our own terms. Queers have been way too willing to compromise, assimilating ourselves according to idealized notions imposed on us by heterosexual society. Our oppression stems from the tyranny of patriarchy and the imposition of strict gender roles – both of which we should reject. We must stop trying so hard to reinforce that "we're just like you" and accept the fact that we will never be like them – and that's just fine. It's not a threat to heterosexual society, or to religion, in fact the opposite is true. These institutions are the ones threatening us, our relationships, even our lives, and they do it with impunity. We can celebrate our differences, our sexuality, our gender fluidity, and we can truly derive pride from them. It's time for the rest of society to join us.
When our opponents say that the "gay agenda" is to "teach gay marriage in schools" we should agree with them. School is, in fact, an appropriate place to talk about these issues. Children in school should be exposed to multiple viewpoints so they are not afraid of being different or those who are different than them. Queer bashing (including the verbal kind) is way more common than most heterosexuals would like to admit, especially in school – I can personally attest to this fact. How can we combat bashing and make queer youth feel secure if these institutions naively continue to act as if queers don't exist? Our visibility, our "outness" means nothing if it is limited to the sanitized, stereotypical Will & Grace-style representation afforded to us by mainstream culture. In fact, these depictions only lend themselves to a level of compartmentalization analogous to a racist enjoying rap music or idolizing black basketball players but refusing to live next to a black family. We need a second coming out that proclaims our differences in a way that demands respect for them.
In short, the LGBT "movement" of the past decade has been entirely too friendly, conciliatory, conformist, and non-confrontational. It has been largely passive, safe, and deferential to the whiter, wealthier elements within it. No minority group has ever achieved equality this way. The queer liberation movement has a past rich with radicalism. Remember Stonewall, the White Night riots, and ACT UP? I encourage you to introduce yourself to Wittman, or revisit him if you are already familiar with his work. Do it in honor of our fallen brothers and sisters, the casualties of the early years of AIDS – the years when our president would not even utter the word – as well the memory of our murdered leaders and comrades. Do it for the next generation only beginning to explore their sexuality and gender. Let us be worthy of their admiration. If our liberation is inextricably tied to marriage equality then so be it, but let that not be all we work to achieve. Let us express our rage honestly, but with infinite compassion in our hearts. Most importantly, let us not wait.
Blake McConnell is a media artist, musician, and activist by day, food and beverage service professional by night. He lives in San Francisco. http://blakemcconnell.net