Remember when people thought gays and lesbians shouldn't be allowed to have children? Well, of course, you do, since there are certain segments of the country that still believe that—like Florida. But then again, Florida doesn't support the civil rights of all sorts of people—like African Americans' right to vote or the right of a husband to suspend life support for his wife—so it's best not to think of them as representative of this country. So let's not think about Florida, which is generally a good policy, unless one is forced to, as when they are busy rigging a presidential election.
More representative, I would guess, is the conversation I had with some young women I know. We were talking about kids when one of them asked whether my partner, Kathy, and I had ever considered having children. 'You'd make a great mom,' one said, a comment that might have been prompted by the fact that I'm always offering her unsolicited advice. At least I don't tell them to get haircuts or tuck in their shirts. The two then turned the topic to gay marriage and were perplexed about why anyone would have a problem with it. You might be tempted to say, 'well, they're from Chicago—a 'Democratic-voting big city'—but, in fact, they are from Frankfort and Godley, towns in Illinois with populations of about 10,000 and 700, respectively—not what you'd call big cities.
So maybe, as John Edwards' twentysomething daughter and her friends believe, the issue of gay marriage—as an issue—will completely disappear with their generation. If so, it's a good thing I work out and eat right since it sounds like, basically, I simply need to outlive the soul-sucking Republicans in charge.
Now while I hate to disagree with Sen. Edwards—or anyone in his family, for that matter, especially when people are being such idiots about Elizabeth Edwards' cancer and expecting the couple to let that disease drive their lives like a bus on autopilot—I actually don't believe acceptance of gay marriage and parenting are generational. I think, in fact, that politicians are about the only ones who are conflicted about granting equal rights to queer Americans. Delusional though I may be ( I still believe, for instance, that people will signal before cutting in front of me in traffic ) , I have evidence to support my assertion.
Last spring, Kathy told her mom she had big news and announced I would be going to school to become a massage therapist. 'Oh,' her mom said. Noting her mom's apparent disappointment, Kathy asked what she thought she'd been about to say, to which her mom replied, 'I thought you and Yvonne were going to have a baby.' Granted, Kathy's mom has made phenomenal progress in terms of acceptance in the nearly twenty years we've been together, but she's still not someone you'd ever expect to see marching in the Pride Parade carrying a sign reading, 'I love my lesbian daughter and her lover.' But here she is, a sixtysomething Republican, disappointed about not having a grandchild who'd be raised by two mommies.
And apparently it's not all politicians who are out of touch with what Americans want—just the one's who want to run the country. As I was writing this lament, Kathy read about tax equity bills in the House and Senate that would amend the Internal Revenue Code to stop taxing health insurance benefits for domestic partners. In other words, though love between queers wouldn't yet be given equal enough status to merit marriage, at least those of us lucky enough to have domestic-partnership benefits wouldn't be taxed for that right—which would put us on par with straight couples who get health benefits for their loved ones.
If you haven't heard about this, maybe that's good: It seems like maybe it could be something a few right-thinking Democrats and Republicans could get passed under the radar. It just might be that we have the makings of a quiet revolution, sneaking human rights in right under the president's nose. In the words of Quiet Riot, 'Cum on feel the noize,' you misguided politico boyz.
