mood: proud
music: Into the Night – Santana

This is the news that I woke up to, and I hardly even know what to say about it. I am flat-out floored. Delighted. Thrilled. Triumphant.

Anyone who knows me knows that I’ve been really passionate about gay rights ever since I found out there was controversy over them at all (I think I was eleven, maybe?). It’s an uphill battle, but civil rights is what I’m all about. I know we can’t win everything, because our society is not ready for that kind of advancement yet. But I am absolutely confident that we LGBT(QQIA) folks will have equal rights in the name of the law (de facto discrimination is another thing entirely, of course) eventually, even if I don’t know how long it’ll be until that day. I just hope I live to see it, or dare I say, even experience it!

The fight over Prop 8 was a beautiful thing to behold. I am so glad that I turned eighteen that year and could put my vote in what I believe is right. Besides just voting, though, I also did a fair amount of campaigning back in Fall 2008 (protests, door-to-door stuff, Facebook posts and debates) in my rather-conservative Orange County city, but part of me was always convinced that despite the tremendous effort put into the campaign, we would still lose because so many Californians just weren’t ready for this big step. But this is seriously amazing! It’s so good to know that the fight wasn’t for nothing and that this will really encourage everyone who didn’t give up fighting, along with bring the fight to the forefront of the minds of everyone who stopped paying attention.

And yeah, I know Prop 8 backers are going to appeal and all that, but this is a fantastic victory for us! The fight goes on!

mood: sad
music: Waiting on the World to Change – John Mayer

“It is indeed a bitter pill to swallow. But we cannot allow distorted facts and shallow tactics–the foundation on which our opponents built their campaigns–to break our spirits. We are on the right side of history–and we will continue this journey.”

Make no mistake. We are bowed, but not discouraged. We are sad, but not disheartened. We grieve, but not as those who are without hope.”
- Joe Solmonese, Human Rights Campaign President

I just came home from watching Milk, a biopic on Harvey Milk, the first openly gay man to be elected to public office in the U.S. (as a member of the San Francisco Board of Supervisors) He was tragically assassinated after ten months in office, by Dan White, another city supervisor. White also assassinated the mayor of San Francisco at the time, George Moscone. When Milk died, about 30,000 people marched in San Francisco for him. It was a fantastic movie–moving, inspiring, heartbreaking. I bawled my eyes out at the theater and watched the credits roll, thinking. When I went to my car to drive home, I sat in the backseat for a while, crying, before I got myself together and propped my No on 8 sign nicely on the back of my car (it had fallen flat last week and I had been too lazy to prop it up slanted properly).

I drove by the intersection where I’d protested against California’s Proposition 8 back in October, and I thought about the fight that we’re still fighting. I thought about all the students organizing a protest on Facebook, and I thought about how I got to participate in it and scream my lungs out, fighting for my rights. Then, I thought about the absolutely JoinTheImpact rally at City Hall on November 15th, protesting on the street as over a million people protested all over the nation. Hundreds stood in front of my city hall alone.

I thought about how when I was telling Kelly about the protests and about how proud and happy I had been to do my part in the fight for civil rights, Erin said to me, “I don’t get why people are still campaigning for this… It’s doesn’t make any sense…” and how when I told her about the three court cases and how the fight is still going on, she said “Wow, are you serious? I’m sorry, but that’s just ridiculous. The people have voted–isn’t this the second time something like this has come up and been voted down by the majority anyway?”

And mostly, I thought about how I said quietly but firmly, my heart heavy and deeply saddened by her obvious disapproval–”Would you stop fighting for your personal rights? I don’t know about you, but I would much rather the courts make a decision about the constitutionality of Prop 8 than have people prejudiced against me decide who I can or cannot marry.”

It was the first time I’ve really stood up to Erin. I still think about it all the time, and it saddens me that she and I could be so close, but it’s…very difficult for me to swallow our ideological differences. I don’t necessarily let it come between us; I still love her dearly and treasure her as a friend. But sometimes, it hurts like hell, knowing that she… She proclaims to be my friend, but when it comes down to something like giving me the right to marry who I want, regardless of their gender, she is not swayed from her position.

Just like it hurt like hell when, back in sophomore year, Maggie and I argued about gay rights, and I cried the entire day away.

I don’t understand how you can… How you can oppose a movement that directly impacts the rights of two of your close friends. Not just one, but two. And not just any friends, but… God, I don’t know. I’m a good person. I know I am. I’m a law-abiding citizen. I’ve never smoked, never done any drugs, and the only alcohol I’ve ever tasted is two glasses of champagne at a New Year’s party this past January. I never drive above the speed limit, and I don’t shoplift or trespass private property. I’ve never cheated on a test, I’ve never ditched class on purpose. I study harder than anyone I know and work an honest job at my family’s store. I love genuinely and certainly am not experimenting: I’ve only been involved with two people in the eighteen years of my life, with one girl and one guy–and gender has been irrelevant in both cases. I am not a sexual deviant and definitely never sleep around; instead, I fall head over heels in love (or at least infatuation) with people. I am extremely generous and often give myself over to perpetuate the happiness of the people around me. I always try to be there for my friends. I don’t cause conflicts, I don’t argue with people, I try my best to be super polite and courteous. And my friends know all of this better than anyone! But… It’s still not enough.

Why?

Do I not mean enough to you?

Am I not enough to prove that homosexuality is not a choice, a disease, or a freakazoid mutation?

I’m a lipstick bisexual, for god’s sake. I like cute heels and sexy jewelry and makeup. I’m a lipstick bisexual, and not even the slutty kind. I’ve only kissed one girl in my life–and one guy, for that matter! You would never even suspect my sexuality, probably even if you saw me wearing my ten No on 8 pins. And yet still…

I want to know what it is. What is it that makes me different from you? No… What is it that makes me not deserve the same rights as you do? You know me–is there really something about me that just dictates that I’m really so different from you?

These questions bother me relentlessly, and they have since middle school.

I just don’t understand.

And frankly, it tears me apart.

This wall you put between me and you.

More walls… It’s always the walls, isn’t it?

P.S. BTW, Milk got Top Box Office even though its restricted release on 11/26 only showed in 36 theaters ($1.3 mill!), and it has a whopping 94% rating on RottenTomatoes! You should really see it; it’s a magnificent history lesson/political documentary/romance story.

Being gay is not a choice, because the first person I ever felt attracted to was an adorable girl named Caitlin in the other kindergarten class.

I didn’t even know what being gay meant until three years later.

Do you think that a five-year-old really ever sat there and decided, “Hmm, I think I want to be gay now”?

I certainly didn’t.

I just voted for the first time ever, and DAMN, does it feel good!

I am praying with all my heart that Prop 8 doesn’t make it.

Good luck, Obama/Biden!

THIS IS IT. LET’S WIN THIS.

I am very nervous about this election.

The presidential race is ridiculously huge, the campaigning in my city is more intense than I’ve ever seen it (the incumbent mayor has been out-termed), and to top it all off, my big issue–gay civil rights–is facing an incredible battle in my state, California.

This is huge.

This also happens to be the first year that I get to vote.

So there is excitement mixed in with my anxiety, but I still feel more apprehensive than anything. Everything is so close, and it seems like nobody can predict anything this year. Nothing is for certain.

Turning eighteen has given me a sense of pride–rather than subtly demonstrating my opinion and determination through rainbow shirts and jewelry and declarations on my AIM profile and on social networking sites, I feel like I can go out there and do something about my opinion. Proposition 8, which would create a constitutional ban on the same-sex marriage that was legalized in California this summer, has been worrying me ever since same-sex marriage was legalized. So when election high-tide began rolling around, I put an obnoxious notice in my profile. I put a notice in my Facebook status and updated it regularly. I donated $20 to the cause and wore a bajillion pins obnoxiously to school and work. I made my own flyers and went door-to-door in my community to pass them out. I participated in a protest in my city for three hours, yelling myself hoarse. I put a NO ON 8 signs in my front yard, the back of my car, and the living room window. I posted notices to both Myspace and Facebook. This was what I wrote:

Proposition 8 seeks to amend our state constitution to define marriage as a union of a man and a woman.

We never voted on heterosexual marriage, so why are we voting on same-sex marriage? What is it about same-sex marriage that is so wrong?

Isn’t treating everyone equally common sense? Isn’t that what America is all about?

The government’s job is to protect minorities, not discriminate against them.

This is not a religious issue. This is not about children, schools, or adoption. This is about giving all law-abiding citizens the same rights.

As many of you are aware, I am proudly bisexual. If Prop 8 passes, I will once again be a second-class citizen in the eyes of the Californian government. I will no longer share the same rights afforded to Californians who are attracted to people of the opposite sex. Why? What makes me so different from you? I’m no heathen–I like smoothies and blasting songs obnoxiously on my car stereo; I hate homework and waking up in the morning. I just happen to like girls in addition to boys.

Is that so wrong? And even if you do think it is wrong–is it RIGHT for me to be denied the right to marry someone I love because of my gender and sexual orientation?

A vote for Prop 8 is a vote for discrimination, a vote for hate, a vote that eradicates the step forward that California took by legalizing same-sex marriage.

How would you feel if the government told YOU who you had a right to marry?

Gay or straight–

VOTE NO ON PROP 8.

In my city, the YES ON 8 campaigners are maniacs. Signs flood every street, they’re calling people, they’re leaving letters on cars in parking lots, they’re putting up signs on their houses. They even hired airplanes to draw campaign notices in the sky. Yeah? Fucking BRING IT, bigots. Every time I see a sign, I want to cry at the unfairness of the people of this world; I want to cry at how people don’t understand that people like me are NO DIFFERENT THAN THEM–if murderers and rapists can marry, then why the fuck can’t I?!

But I don’t cry. I hold the tears in, and I let my feelings of frustration fuel my determination. We will fight this. And we will win.

Alex and I talked about how ridiculous this entire issue is–especially the fact that it even has to be debated and voted upon. He commented that none of the things we do really change anything–this is something that everyone has pretty much already decided on.

But.

I just want to do everything in my power to fight this. That way, at least, if we lose, I’ll know that I did my part and contributed. It just feels good to fight it–this is what I’ve been trying but not been able to do since I was twelve. That’s what’s important, you know? That we stand up for our rights, for what we believe in… For what we know is right. Even if we lose, another opportunity will come.

DAWN WILL COME.

I just hope I’ll live to see it.