The Well of Loneliness is one of those books that one has to read in their lifetime if they are ever to understand contemporary gay culture in a meaningful way. Sure, a novel that was written in 1928 seems odd to hold up as contemporary gay literature, but it was, indeed, a glimpse into the beginning of the world we now inhabit: a world where love is equal, where states are falling like dominoes towards justice when previously justice was only a dream.
There is a tendency (I'm generalizing here) for straight allies to believe that the cause of gay equality is a relatively new one, one that was borne out of Stonewall, that gained momentum in Vermont and Massachusetts, and that has finally peaked today, as more states now recognize marriage equality than those that don't.
I am not denying the historic nature of all the momentum we're seeing today; it has moved me to tears several times, including the day that I got married (more about that later).
But let's go back to The Well of Loneliness, for a second. It's the story of a woman who self-identifies as a lesbian. Her father is aware of the peculiarity so he supports her without her being aware of it. Her mother keeps a safe distance from her. Fast forward (SPOILER ALERT) the woman's father dies and the mother comes to realize what her daughter is. She tells her daughter that she would "rather die a thousand deaths" than accept what her daughter was.
It's a terribly depressing book, but it's a remarkable snapshot in time, of a time when we imagine that gays were all desperately hiding and never came out.
The protagonist of the book, Stephen (named so because her father had his heart set on that name and wouldn't back down just because the newborn was a girl) realizes that her father knew about her and never loved her any less because of it. He read books, he did his research, he knew there was nothing he could do to save his daughter from her proclivities, so he did what he could do to nurture, love, and mentor her. This is a somewhat pivotal point in the book, because Stephen had hid her nature from her father, whom she adored.
When she realized that he had always accepted her it was a huge moment, one that emboldened her to come out to her mother, who had the opposite reaction.
Again, it's a terribly depressing book but one that I encourage everyone to read.
It has been on my mind a lot lately because I feel as though I'm trapped in the strangest dichotomy of time.
For years I have been looking forward to the day that I got to post a diary announcing that I am married. The day I realized that I would be married, I started a diary about the beginning and meant to fill in the end, the story of the wedding, after it happened.
But this crux of equality for me was overshadowed by the crux of inequality elsewhere, so I've not had the heart to write the diary about marrying my wife. The elation of us being legally bound to and responsible for each other has been overshadowed by the reality that in our struggle for equality, we have left people behind.
On October 20th or 21st, my then-fiance learned that her friend Jennifer Gable had died on October 9th.
She didn't learn of this sooner because the obituary was for a man named Geoffrey, someone that my wife had never met.
On October 23rd, I became, finally, legally married to my wife, but we've not officially celebrated that yet because our lives have been overtaken by the quest to find some small piece of justice for Jennifer.
It's been an uphill battle, and we're frankly feeling quite defeated.
Last night we did a radio interview and the host, Mark Angelo, later mused that he might suffer the same fate as Jennifer.
Mark's mother loves him but she still refers to him as her daughter, still calls him by his previous female name. If he dies suddenly today, he doesn't know if he'll be buried as himself or as a woman.
He doesn't know if he'll be buried as himself.
This is troubling to me on so many levels that it continues to move me to tears.
How have we, as a society, let ourselves pat ourselves on the back for our victories in "LGBT" equality when, in reality, we've only made progress for the LGB community, and we all too often shun our transgender brothers and sisters in the name of "progress?"
"There is more resistance to protection for people who are transgender than for people who are gay, lesbian and bisexual," Rep. Barney Frank (D-Mass.) said in a statement at the time. "This is not a good fact, but ignoring bad facts is a bad way to get legislation passed."
That was Barney Frank, a man I generally admire, justifying stripping the language that would have included gender identity from ENDA (Employment Non-Discrimination Act).
We still call Barney Frank an advocate for LGBT rights and applaud ourselves for all the progress we've made (and I'm not discounting the progress that we have made- it's been amazing), yet ignore that in each step we took on the long and painful march towards equality, we were all too willing to drop the "T" from our cause.
(As gizmo59 so astutely notes: "Barney Frank's betrayal of transgendered people turned out to be an object lesson in the rewards for such betrayal. The idea was to make ENDA more palatable to Congressional representatives who could conceive of supporting the LGB, but got a case of the "icks" when they considered the T. But his betrayal was for naught. ENDA went down in flames anyway.
The lesson is this: Stand by your principles. Don't abandon your friends and allies for what you think will be a tactical advantage because, chances are, that apparent advantage is just a mirage. Congress was not ready to pass ENDA at that time whether transgender people were included or not--and that is even more true today, thanks to the midterms. All Frank's betrayal did was to damage the relations between transgender people and LGB people. We must remain united if we're to continue to make progress.")
Which brings me back to the title of this post.
My wife and I laugh sometimes about how our mothers (who will most likely read this post and who are wonderful, amazing, beautiful women who were awesome role models for and friends to us) were both incredibly disappointed when we each came out years ago.
When we came out, marriage equality wasn't even a thing that existed. Will and Grace wasn't on air, Vermont hadn't legalized civil unions, the Lawrence v. Texas decision was years away, and gays and lesbians were still mostly in the periphery.
I don't blame our mothers for being shocked and saddened. At the time, being gay or lesbian was a life sentence to misery and they didn't want that for us.
It has only been through the evolution of society as a whole that our mothers, our families, were able to accept without hesitation who we are and be proud of us and support us 100%.
When you love someone, you love their entire being. You accept who they are. When they are someone that you don't understand, or who worries you, or who you feel has chosen something that you don't believe is right, it doesn't matter.
Most of us draw from that infinite well of love and see the person before us as a person.
Not as a sexual orientation, not as a sex act, not as an outlier, but as a person.
So what happens when even our allies are all too willing to let us remain invisible?
Society doesn't evolve. WE don't evolve.
Silence equals acceptance, and we as a community continue to accept that our trans brothers and sisters will be left behind until.... when?
I won't be silent anymore. I am drawing from that infinite well of love and I am fighting for those that no one else wants to fight for.
And I challenge every single one of you who call yourselves friends and allies to the LGBT community to mean it, to remember the "T," and to recognize their rights to be just as important as mine and yours.
No one should have to wonder if they will be buried with dignity.
Jennifer's case is not an isolated incident, and the fact that our brothers and sisters have to wonder if they will be respected in death is an injustice that reflects on all of us.
It's time to end that.
It's time to mean it when we say we are the LGBT community, or an ally of the LGBT community. It's time to be the LGB*T* community.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~