No on Proposition 8

Man, I've been busy.

In this past month I've been robbed, had a birthday and started training for a marathon. I've also been preparing for a trip to Europe, which begins this weekend! So I haven't had much time to write. I apologize to my 8 readers.

I've also been busy keeping up with this election. For the first time (ever, really) I am learning about the issues because of a genuine interest, rather than a guilty feeling that I should be more informed.

I have tried, in the past, to become more involved in our democratic process. Four years ago I volunteered with the Democratic National Convention. I wasn't working at the time and it seemed like a great way to make a little money, meet some new people and be a part of what was happening in the world.

I lasted one day. And folks, I didn't think I was going to last that long. They had us knocking on doors to request donations, which is something that I absolutely hate to do. I'm a lousy salesperson. I was that Girl Scout who sold the fewest boxes of cookies, okay? I don't even like convincing people to give money in exchange for desired goods, so I surely wanted nothing to do with asking people to give money out of a sense of civic duty. I think I literally would have preferred to spend the day giving myself paper cuts.

As if that weren't bad enough, I didn't anticipate the sheer amount of exercise involved in canvassing hilly neighborhoods on foot. I was exhausted within the hour. My fundraising partner was a dedicated woman in her fifties with an ungodly amount of energy. As darkness began to fall she turned to me and said earnestly, "I think we should run between houses. We'll cover more ground that way." That's when I knew I was never coming back.

Flash forward to present day. I've been watching the debates with great enthusiasm, playing Palin Bingo and having post-mortem discussions with my friends and co-workers. I've given small donations to the Obama campaign and a handful of non-profit organizations. But I did not intend to donate my time. For one thing, I don't have a lot of it, so I consider it to be a bit of a precious commodity. And just as I'd long ago come to terms with my guilt over not giving blood (the very thought makes me woozy), I'd made my peace with the fact that I don't volunteer. About four years ago, in fact.

But lately I've found myself yelling at the TV, especially when I see those Yes on Proposition 8 ads. Proposition 8 is the measure proposed to ban gay and lesbian marriage in California. I have long been a supporter of gay rights, but I didn't realize until this year just how fervently I believe in this issue. In fact, I was surprised to find myself holding back tears when Joe Biden announced in the vice presidential debate that neither he nor Barack Obama support changing the definition of marriage to include same-sex couples. I'd like to believe that was a purely political move, and that in their hearts they want true equality for everyone, but it desperately hurt my feelings to think that they have to temper their views to appeal to the politics of conservative voters.

I suppose Glide has much to do with shaping my views on this issue. Every week I am privileged to be greeted with messages of equality, acceptance and respect. But I've also had the chance to meet and befriend so many different people. It's become a natural thing for me to witness love in its many forms. Sometimes I forget that not everyone is so fortunate.

The first time I ever pondered the issue of gay rights I was 12 years old. I was at the mall with some friends and I saw a man dressed as a woman. It puzzled me, because he was obviously a man with an Adam's apple and a 5 o'clock shadow to boot. But he was wearing a stretchy white dress, high heels and carrying a big white purse. I wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

I decided to broach the subject over Thanksgiving dinner that weekend. "I saw a man at the mall the other day," I announced to my parents and visiting relatives. "He was dressed like a lady with a wig and makeup and everything." I'm not sure what sort of feedback I expected from my announcement. But I was kind of confused by what I'd seen and I think I was looking for some sort of adult opinion to help me shape my own ideas.

I was not prepared for the small explosion that issued forth from my aunt. "Oh Lord, no!" she exclaimed. "No, no, no-no-no! That is not natural. That is not right! My goodness, no." She was shaking her head and shredding her turkey in consternation.

"What do you mean?" I questioned carefully. She really looked as though she might have a stroke. "Why is it so bad if a man wants to wear a dress?" I realized as I spoke the words that I didn't understand why a man would want to wear a dress, but it hadn't disturbed my day, so why get bothered about it? My aunt made the sign of the cross.

"Sinful, it's just sinful; that's all it is! Going against God! A man wearing a dress, it's just not natural. Sinful," she emphasized with the point of her finger.

I was taken aback by her vehemence. I'd never known my aunt to be anything but loving and accepting. After all, we were an interracial family and to my knowledge she'd never had trouble accepting my mom. I couldn't understand her position. "Why is it sinful?" I pressed.

My aunt began rocking back and forth in her chair, pleating her napkin with worry. "Why is it sinful? Why? Lord Jesus, no," she muttered. My parents shot me a look that clearly said, "Let it go". I think we were all concerned that my aunt might have an apoplectic fit right there at the table. So I dropped the subject, but not before saying cheerfully, "I liked his purse."

My aunt snorted loudly into her napkin.

As an adult I look back and realize that that exchange did more to shape my views about gay rights than anything in the years that followed. Yes, at 12 years old I thought there was something a bit odd about a man in a dress, but the absolute intolerance of my aunt's position, the furious way that she spoke against a person she hadn't even seen struck me as being ridiculous. Unwittingly, she primed me for the opposite side.

I was a senior in high school when my best friend stormed up to me one day in a rage. "Did you know," she demanded, "that it's illegal for gay people to get married? Did you know that?"

I did not know that. Honestly, it had never occurred to me. She was the only gay person I knew.

"I'm not allowed to get married!" she railed. "How is that fair? Why is that allowed? What, do they think that just because I'm a lesbian I can't fall in love with somebody? Do they think that gay people don't want to get married and have families?"

"Do you want to get married?" I asked her, curious. I didn't think that she did.

"I don't know!" she shouted. "I don't know! But don't I at least deserve that choice?" I nodded.

She swooped in on me. "Doesn't this bother you? Don't you think it's wrong?"

Of course I thought it was wrong, I assured her. But to be honest, I was having trouble working up to her level of indignation. We were kids and marriage was so far away. And she really was the only person I knew who was affected by the issue. Empathy is hard to come by at 17. I was in the throes of self-obsession.

Today I think back on my reaction and I'm slightly ashamed. Now I have a better understanding of how it must have felt to learn for the first time that you're not allowed the same basic rights as everybody else. Now I have a sense of how deeply that must have hurt.

Interestingly enough, our home state of Connecticut ruled to legalize gay marriage last week. This is fantastic news. But in a terrible twist, Californians now have real cause to worry that the right for same-sex couples to marry may be overturned in next month's election.

Which brings me to last night. Despite my aversion to volunteering I'd been feeling a new sense of responsibility, an increasing awareness that I need to play a part in the solution if I'm going to bitch about the problem. So I signed up for a time slot manning phone banks for the No on Prop 8 campaign. Recalling my experience with the DNC, I was not looking forward to the evening. I expected to have a dismal time. But I went anyway, because I knew I'd be kicking myself if the measure passed and I hadn't done anything to fight it.

To my surprise and delight, it was a wonderful experience. From the moment I walked into the Castro headquarters I was thrilled by the operation; the atmosphere was charged with purpose. The large room was filled with people, but right off the bat I spotted several friends from Glide. I was 10 minutes too late for the first training session, so I was urged to help myself to food while I waited for the next round of instructions. The training was more thorough than I'd expected; for half an hour they led us through our talking points and had us practice making calls. We were given a script to follow, so there was no need to speak off the cuff. And then they turned us loose with our cell phones to start changing the world.

Here's where it got a little disheartening: I made 63 phone calls last night. I only reached 3 people who pledged to vote No on Prop 8. Most of the numbers I dialed never picked up. I actually whipped through my entire list in an hour and had to be given another one.

After reaching my 25th answering machine, I put my phone down and heaved a sigh of frustration. But then I took a moment to glance around the room. Everywhere I looked volunteers were crammed in at tables, sprawled on couches, perched on folding chairs or laying on the floor. Everyone had a phone pressed against their ear; half the room was jabbing in earnest. Every once in awhile we heard the ding! of a bell as someone signified that they'd gotten a No vote. And the rest of the room would flutter their hands in silent applause. Taking in the scene, I was filled with hope. I felt like I was part of history in the making. Turns out I didn't miss the civil rights movement after all.

So here are the stats from last night, and this is why we need you: 609 people pledged to vote No on Proposition 8. 7 people pledged to vote No and made a financial donation. 112 people told us that they were voting yes on Proposition 8. 1 person said that they were voting yes and made a financial contribution to the other side.

90 people were undecided. That's 90 undecided folks who learned more about the issue last night, due to our phone calls. That's 90 people who might take the time to go to the website and get the facts before casting their vote. And this election is going to be so close. Just a few of those 90 votes may be enough to tip the scales in our favor.

Now here's the troubling thing: Many people told us that they hadn't heard anything about Proposition 8 and didn't know what it was. So the message isn't reaching far enough. Even more troubling: several folks reported, "Yes, I support same-sex marriage, so I'm voting yes on Proposition 8." No, no, no! Granted, the language is a bit confusing, so we have to call more voters and make sure the message is clear.

Last night I learned that the opposition has out-funded us by 9 million dollars, which means that people are seeing more of their ads than ours. And because so many people are undecided or uninformed, it's really mission critical that we get our message out. The message is that all of us are worthy and deserving of equality, acceptance, respect and love.

So I urge you to participate in the phone banks, donate your time or your money. With less than a month till Election Day, our collective action is needed more urgently than ever before.

As a biracial woman, I often ponder the fact that I'm not too many generations removed from a time when it would have been illegal for my parents to marry. And then where would my brother and I be? My mom and dad waited for 5 years before having kids because they weren't sure the world was ready for us. And not everybody was. But could you look at me now and say that the love that brought me into this world was wrong? How can we look at anybody and say: The love you feel for that man, for that woman, is wrong?

Love is not wrong. You can't go wrong with love.

Please vote.


For more information, go to www.noonprop8.com .