Marriage Equality: One Year Later

One year ago this weekend, I was married to my partner of 23 years. I'm celebrating this first anniversary, feeling joy, anger, disappointment, and hope.

Joy, because I am married to a wonderful man with so much love to share.

Anger, because of last year's Prop 8 election result, and the California Supreme Court's subsequent upholding of the stripping away of a right from a group, because a slim majority of the public wanted it so.

Disappointment, because while I am still legally married (the Court didn't nullify my marriage), I feel a bit like a freed slave. I have my rights, but my brothers and sisters in my community don't have theirs.

And hope. Hope, because today is Coming Out Day and tomorrow, thousands will march in Washington and elsewhere, for equality ... demanding equal protection in all matters governed by civil law in all 50 states.

If you want to see what a gay wedding looks like (well, my gay wedding anyway), click on the video links below.


Part 1 is the ceremony.


Part 2 is the reception.

Moving and ordinary at the same time. I've been married one year as of Sunday, October 11. And the world hasn't wobbled off of its axis. The sanctity, validity, and meaning of hetero-marriages in California weren't threatened by my marriage.

Glad to celebrate. Sad that others don't have the same right.

Equal protection, as guaranteed under the 14th Amendment. We will accept no less and will work until it is achieved. We should not have to beg or bargain for the right to work our jobs and go to school free of harassment and discrimination, the right to safety in our daily lives, the right to equitable healthcare, the right to marry, and the right to serve in the military openly.

Community Centers Change Lives

Bet you didn't know it, but today is LGBT Center Awareness Day. Vital services are offered by lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender community centers. I'm proud to serve as a volunteer board member for the Center in San Francisco.

LGBT community centers are the front doors to the LGBT community, and in the United States serve over 40,000 people weekly. They become the backbone of the LGBT community, reaching across metropolitan, suburban, and rural areas. Click here to find one near you.

While progress has been made, it is still challenging to "come out" in today's society. Often, people feel isolated, and don't find welcoming entree into being who they are.

Even in progressive, uber-liberal San Francisco, newcomers to the community -- whether arriving from Kansas or the City's Sunset district -- have to make their way through a confusing maze.
The San Francisco LGBT Community Center empowers those individuals to build community. Yes, San Francisco is rich with organizations and agencies serving specific needs of the LGBT community. The Center works to enable collaboration. Rather than duplicating existing services, The Center works alongside each of them, fostering connections and insuring that people in need find them.

The Center is not only a meeting place and shared headquarters space for dozens of groups (though that's important, too). It also provides activities benefiting the entire lifespan of LGBT people, from our KidSpace program (childcare for program participants) to elder services. I'm personally proud of The Center's youth support, HIV support, computer access, and economic development/business assistance efforts.

Click on any of the links to learn more, or to support the Center, click here.

And tell someone you know that today is LGBT Center Awareness Day!

Lest We Forget

I try to keep my blog posts "on target," being at least somewhat related to philanthropy.

But I can't help but take note that 11-year old Jaheem Herrera, one of the boys who recently committed suicide after enduring months of anti-gay slurs and physical abuse at school, was buried on Tuesday.

Children solemnly filed into the church to say their last goodbyes. Jaheem's mother broke down in sobs as her only son was wheeled past her in a coffin. So sad.

So, we've lost another young life because of anti-gay bullying in schools. Jaheem Herrera. His name joins the list: Eric Mohat, Lee Simpson, and Carl Joseph Walker-Hoover. And who knows how many others?

My fear? Despite the growing media coverage, the issue won't be addressed. Before long, no more media coverage will be warranted. The numbers will grow to the point that this is no longer news. They'll just be a statistic. So sad.

I so totally relate to this story. I don't believe I've ever shared this with anyone, so you heard it here first. The only time I ever contemplated suicide, I was about 12, in the seventh grade, about a year older than Jaheem. For a couple months, a group of boys were taunting and harrassing me. "Gay" hadn't been invented yet; in the mid-60s, I was "homo." Not even really understanding its meaning -- neither me nor, in all probability, the attackers -- it was cause to threaten, punch, beat up, kick, trip, steal from, spit on, and publicly humilate.

I was writhing in agony. At night, in bed, I'd wrestle with what to do. I remember wishing that one of the attacks would result in my being hospitalized or even die. In my mind, I rehearsed how they'd find me, bloodied and unconscious or dead. "Then, they'll be sorry," I thought. Ending it all seemed a viable option, too, and more than once, I ran through in my mind's eye how I could do it. I know it sounds unreal and crazy now, but it was very real then. Thankfully, for whatever reasons, I never acted on the impulse. And I've never had suicidal thoughts since. But I do truly understand it.

Point is: Bullying is not some pre-adolescent phase or harmless hijinks. It hurts. It can kill.

Not to make too fine a link between the two, but the US House passed the Matthew Shepard Act yesterday. This hate crimes law is long overdue. Eventual passage by the Senate is expected handily -- though perhaps some months away -- and President Obama has assured us that it will be signed when it eventually reaches his desk.

Can all of this be related to philanthropy after all? Sure. Philanthropy is a Greek word whose origins literally mean “love for mankind.” Organizations arise to work on causes like this one, to promote the common good.

So, in the sadness of all this, I can point to the work of at least one organization working on the cause: The Trevor Project. This organization operates the only nationwide, around the clock crisis and suicide prevention helpline for LGBTQ youth. I invite you to learn about and support their work: www.thetrevorproject.org or call them at 866-488-7386.

Hooray for the Hawkeye State, Where the Tall Corn Grows!

That's Iowa we're talkin' 'bout.

I am so proud of Iowa right now, where their Supreme Court just issued an unanimous ruling, holding that the state's same-sex marriage ban was unconstitutional. This brings a same-sex marriage victory to America's heartland. I am thrilled that equality has come to Iowa!

The justices drew explicit parallels to civil rights struggles by blacks and women, holding that the state's ban on same-sex marriage was a violation of the equality promised in the Iowa constitution. The fact that the discrimination is "traditional" doesn't cut it, otherwise "previous successful equal protection challenges of invidious racial and gender classifications would have failed," the court said in its ruling.

This ruling marks another watershed moment in the struggle for full equality. No longer will same-sex couples have their relationships treated as less than equal by the state of Iowa.

It's a very hope-filled sign of the times. My family has strong roots in Iowa; my mother was born and raised there. Though she and my father moved to far-off Chicago (!), we spent many summers and Christmas holidays there. I have a bunch of cousins, and second-cousins, and third-cousins there. It's the sort of family that started having an annual reunion in the 1940s and has convened every August since. We go back there every few years, even after all this time (30+ years) away from the Midwest.

Last summer, when my now-husband and I announced that we were getting married, I sent save-the-date announcements to all the cousins. After all, over the years, I've been invited to all their weddings and most of their children's weddings. But I confess I wasn't exactly sure what the reaction would be.

In retrospect, I never should have doubted. A bunch of my cousins started to organize a group vacation to celebrate the day (and to visit California's wine country, no doubt). Real life intervened, and most of them bailed, one-by-one, except for Leslie and his wife who flew in from Des Moines.

But the folks back in Iowa were poised for news, anxious to see pictures, generous with remembrances. I was moved.

Point is: most people "get it" about the link between civil rights and same-sex marriage, especially when they know someone who is open about who they are and the family they want to create. Many fair-minded Iowans — and fair-minded people across the country — will be celebrating with us. I know my Iowa cousins will be.

Two Men, Remembered

Eighteen years ago this Thursday, on February 26, 1991, San Francisco State President Robert A. Corrigan stood at a podium and announced that two men who died of AIDS had established grants for gays at three Bay Area universities.

Thomas Markowski died in 1987 at the age of 29. James Leach died in 1989 at the age of 32. Had they lived, they would be 52 and 53 now. Theirs is a typical story of what San Francisco and the world lost to the epidemic of AIDS in the 1980's and beyond.

They met in Houston in 1981. They moved to San Francisco in 1982, seeking career opportunities and a more active gay community. The San Francisco Bay area gave them a chance to succeed financially and to live openly as gay lovers. As both men became ill with AIDS, they decided to give something back after their deaths to the community they loved. They wanted to create a scholarship fund to give other gays and lesbians (and now bisexuals and transgenders) the opportunity to educate themselves.

They felt strongly that it was very hard for gays and lesbians to get ahead in business because you either had to be in the closet or would not get promotions. They wanted to make higher education available so gays and lesbians could get into leadership positions and make sure that being gay or lesbian wasn't an obstacle to getting ahead.

The gift was made possible from the proceeds of life insurance policies and real estate investment. (They owned a small apartment house in San Francisco that they renovated.) The fund started at $200,000 ... but can you imagine how many self-identified gay students have been helped through the years? I'm guessing somewhere in the neighborhood of 250 or so.

In many respects, a classic planned gift:

• a gift of a lifetime,
• a gift where the impact extends far beyond the lifespan of the donors,
• a gift that makes a transformational difference for a cause related to the donors' values
• a gift for which the donors are remembered

And yet, I can't help but think how remarkable it was for them to have had the foresight to do something like that. Now, years and years later, students can still apply for scholarships at San Francisco State, UC Berkeley, or Stanford. This year's deadline is April 15.

I am moved by this story. I did not know either of these men. I wish I had known them. They were contemporaries of mine. I would have been honored to call them friends.