Tonight, at 35 Eve of Justice events across the state of California as well as in Arizona and Oklahoma, people are coming together to light the way to the Supreme Court in honor of tomorrow’s opening statements by the attorneys who will try to overthrow prop 8.
This is from the Eve of Justice planning group… (Tonight we are sending a unified message to our fellow Californians, that it is wrong to take away basic rights from a minority group at the ballot box, and we consider equal marriage rights vital to our lives and families. Tonight we also give our love and support to all the families headed by same-sex couples who are threatened by the recent electoral outcome, as well as same-sex couples whose hopes and dreams of marriage and family have been frustrated by enactment of Prop 8.)
For me, to do this here, at Reverend Sarah’s church is quite meaningful.
Two days before our planned civil ceremony at the county clerk’s office on August 8, Karla and I met with Sarah for the first time.
Within hours of our meeting and a day and a half before we got married, we decided to change our plans and instead got married by Sarah at the Oak Creek Community Park near our house where our neighbor’s daughter spent the day, staking out our space at the picnic benches.
Sarah also brought a fellow parishioner and musician, who had offered to play for free at any gay or lesbian wedding. He is John Schuster, who is also playing here tonight.
And … on the night after the election, Sarah opened up her church to the community so we would have some place to come together and hold one another through our pain and sadness.
How perfect for Sarah and for this space that we can come together here on the Eve of Justice.
At our reception, I asked my brother to read this poem – it is called A MARRIAGE, by Michael Blumenthal:
You are holding up a ceiling
with both arms. It is very heavy,
but you must hold it up, or else
it will fall down on you. Your arms
are tired, terribly tired,
and, as the day goes on, it feels
as if either your arms or the ceiling
will soon collapse.
But then,
unexpectedly,
something wonderful happens:
Someone,
a man or a woman,
walks into the room
and holds their arms up
to the ceiling beside you.
So you finally get
to take down your arms.
You feel the relief of respite,
the blood flowing back
to your fingers and arms.
And when your partner's arms tire,
you hold up your own
to relieve him again.
And it can go on like this
for many years
without the house falling.
Karla and I were doing fine holding up our house before we got married. We love and support one another and had committed to holding up our house together.
But once we got married, I felt the love and support of our families and friends, buttressed by the legal recognition from the state of California. The burden felt lighter, the experience less lonely, and the fear and shame that still surfaced from time to time, dissolved.
Standing in the park that day, and for some time after, I felt safe.
A few weeks after our wonderful and amazing two-day wedding I was driving home from work, got off the freeway at Jeffrey, and there they were.
I had seen the signs, but I guess I did not expect to see the people.
My heart began to beat furiously. I glared intently at one woman from my car window and I swear she actually looked down. Perhaps this is a projection, but I sensed that she saw me, my face, my eyes, my pain, and she felt ashamed.
There were a lot of them, more than 50.
But then, as I approached the median at Alton, there was one young woman, very small, with dark hair, standing there, surrounded by the pasty-faced yellow-shirted glossy-eyed fancy-printed-sign holders, with a homemade sign on a piece of cardboard that simply said “No on 8.” If you are here, by the way, I’d love to give you a huge hug.
I screamed out my car window that I’d be right there.
By the time I parked, a small man with head of curly reddish brown hair had arrived carrying a bunch of no on 8 signs. He did not know who I was, but he handed me a sign.
That was the night I met Harvey Liss. Or at least one of the Harveys, because I swear there are 2 of him just like there is more than one Felicity and more than on Dean Inada, both of whom also showed up shortly thereafter.
Another night, at the same street corner, as Harvey hauled out the big sign – the 8 footer on actual posterboard that took 2 people to carry - I remember asking him “Harvey, why are you here, why are you doing this?” And without a beat he answered “I am trying to save my life.”
After that first night, something that had been percolating inside me simply erupted. I am not sure it has stopped since then, and I do not know when it will. I had been involved before that night, but the combination of seeing those people with their awful yellow signs, and meeting Harvey, Felicity, Dean and others, ignited in me both shear terror and profound hope. How could you not hope when you find out that Dean goes to Barnes and Noble and slips meeting flyers inside the pages of all the progressive magazines?
Soon after that I met BJ and soon after that, a small group of crazy incensed terrorized homo loving commies (or commie loving homos?) stayed up for 72 hours engaged in some insane mission to get to the voters at the polls.
And, then, on the Saturday after the election, in Archer’s dance studio, writing our notes on the mirrored studio walls, we formed OCEC.
God knows that holding up our own ceilings can be difficult enough. But we have work to do.
Tonight is about making a pledge, as a community, despite and in celebration of all of our differences, to continue to pursue justice, regardless of what the courts decide.
The openly gay civil rights leader, who organized the 1963 March on Washington, and considered by many a father of the modern Black movement, Bayard Rustin said “To be afraid is to behave as if the truth were not true.”
So I am going to ask you to put the other stuff down and to help us hold up THIS ceiling. Because when we are holding on to the anger, fear, disappointment, and disagreements, we cannot hold up the ceiling.
And we need all of our arms, so that we can take turns holding up the ceiling and reaching out to others.
It is the only way we will achieve equality for ALL.







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I completely agreed with you that everyone should have the same rights until I read this... why go off on someone like that when they were just telling you their opinion? I ask you the same thing you asked her, WWJD? Have some compassion for other people even if they don't feel the same way you do. I feel the same way you do but I still think that was wrong and rude and not the greatest way to be a light for God. Just my thoughts...
Katherine