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.

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.