In recognizing the humanity of our fellow beings, we pay ourselves the highest tribute.
–Thurgood Marshall
The Indigo Girls, Hair, The Dixie Chicks, P!nk, Green Day, Pansy Division and a recurring affair with Tanqueray are a
few things that got me through eight years of a daft, NeoCon regime. In January a New Light arose in the East, a new era dawned, and Gay Rights remain pretty much ignored. Don’t get me wrong. I’m still an Obamaniac, and I recognize the man has a lot on his plate right now. Like many others, I want a quick end to the Middle Eastern Wars, a strong, stable economy, a healthy planet, and the Dawning of the Age of Aquarius. I also want marriage equality, passage of the Matthew Shepard Hate Crimes Act, a cure for and vaccination to prevent AIDS, repeal of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, and Fairness to be a national mandate. Well, you get the picture.
It’s wonderful that health care benefits have been extended to same-sex domestic partners of federal employees. Many companies — even the traditionally conservative ones — have offered those benefits for years. However, due to federal mandate, my domestic partner couldn’t use the dollars in my Health Savings Account (HSA) for his health care expenses. I wouldn’t be entitled to a thin dime of his social security, and my sister would have more claim over my care were I mentally incapacitated than the man with whom I’m spending my life. And to be honest about it, I’d like some real contrition and penitence from the good people of the Golden State for taking away rights.
Those are some of the things we still have to conquer. But we’ve come a long way as well. Forty years ago, the riots at the Stonewall Inn began the Gay Rights Movement, and we’ve only picked up speed. As I write, six states have legalized same-sex marriage — something that couldn’t even be imagined in 1969. Also at that time, most gay bars were the pink equivalent of speekeasies — often without signage to proclaim what lay behind that door. Now, most same-sex watering holes are as out and loud as their patrons. Homosexuals are portrayed openly, if not always accurately, on screen. We are no longer just the nellie poofs, the outwardly-closeted, or the confirmed bachelors. It’s not unusual on the Tony Awards to see same-sex couples kiss when one wins an award or to thank his or her same-sex partner. Honestly, no one seems to notice the deviation from the norm — whatever that is.
The company I work for as a non-discrimination policy that includes homosexuality, allows coverage for same-sex partners on its benefits, and has protrayed same-sex relationships in some of it’s public face. None of these things were more than castles in the air in 1969.
We still have a long skip up the Yellow Brick Road, but we’ve come a long way, Babycakes. If we get up off the bar stools, out of the closets, and into the streets, we’ll make it to find an Emerald City upon a Hill.
As ever, I bid you Peace.
quite and sedate I’m sure. I’m really not celebrating the Christian martyr; there’s something magic about this time of year. I’ve not been able to put my finger on it, but since childhood I’ve loved the period between St. Andrew’s Day and Imbolc. Traditionally, the harvest is done, and we’re in for the long, dark, cold winter. That’s the part that I like. It’s a time for hearth and home, but it’s also a time of inner speculation and self-renewal.
Come join us Out in the open at 
