I suppose what bothers me most about the passage of
Proposition 8 is not simply that the religious views of a block of Californians
have been inserted into the state's constitution, but that a question of love
was answered with hate, revulsion, and fear.
As recently as fifty years ago, it was illegal in certain
states for a black man to marry a white woman.
Today, it's illegal in most states for a person to marry if he or she
is gay.
The rationales are identical: to protect the institution.
In this country where all are presumed equal, it is
astounding –- in a tragic, muted way –- that we could permit the
revocation of a right to family in the way Proposition 8 accomplished.
Marriage, I think, is one of the greatest imperatives of our
race. I do not mean the biological
imperative -- the will we have in us to perpetuate -- but the need to seek out
that which completes us is awesome and powerful. Whether you are straight or gay does not make
that essential characteristic of the human condition any greater or less.
All of us -- or at least, I think, most of us -- want to love
and be loved. Perhaps we are not creatures meant to be alone in this world.
But when Californians were asked last week whether every
citizen held the same human entitlement to a loving union, they answered, resoundingly, "No."
What is that, if not human tragedy?
I know supporters of Proposition 8 argue that
we are all entitled to our opinions, that we have a right disagree, that
falling on one side of a policy question does not make you hateful.
I do not dispute this.
But, at bottom, I do not think this is a "states question," or even, for
that matter, a "federal question." It is a human question, to
which there are right and wrong answers.
I wonder if we, individually or as a people, whether God-fearing
or atheist, black or white, rich or poor, conservative or liberal or somewhere in
between -– I wonder if we truly have a right, as human beings, as participants in the accident or experiment of
humanity, to demand our government to withhold marriage from two adults who
love each other.
I do not think that we do.
Proposition 8 "defended" marriage at the expense of marriage's
purpose: to ostensibly protect the marriages of others, it foreclosed the coming together of those who love each other.
There is so much wrong with the world, it is hard to understand the threat
posed by two people in love to an institution riddled with divorce, and violence, and so much unhappiness. It is hard to understand how the marriage of
two men or two women would undermine my own. It is hard to understand a conservative call for small
government that simultaneously seeks to deeply invade the private lives of others. It is hard to understand a
Christian message of a Loving God when it endorses the persecution of love
between others, between people Not Like Us.
Mostly, I'm just sad that this is still where we are as a nation.
But I believe, if history has taught us anything, it's
that movements to cordon off those paths to happiness -- to restrict the flow of basic human dignities to our fellows -- are remembered with disgrace
and disappointment, as a stain on our legacy, as uncharitable and divisive and
impossibly short-sighted.
As profoundly and astonishingly hateful.
Make no mistake: we will remember what happened here today, and we will remember the people who made such shame possible. And we will share in that shame -- for not fighting hard enough, for allowing it to happen.
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