Yesterday in Cheers and Jeers,
there was a little debate over a NYT Magazine story concerning gay rights. BiPM responded to some criticism by stating that perhaps he was too close to the issue. I responded to him that no, he wasn't - I'd read the issue the same way, and, since I'm not gay, I figured I had little bias on the issue.
But. This morning I was thinking it over, and getting more and more angry about the issue, and I realized that I do have my own biases when it comes to equal rights. Because, that's what we're talking about here people: equal rights. If I have a right, then so should you, so should my neighbor, his cousin, her sister and everyone else, including Joe Schmoe. Because the denial of those rights has caused death, and those deaths have affected my life more than I will ever comprehend. More on the flip....
My father died of AIDS. I didn't used to tell people that - very often I still don't. He died when I was 21, 12 years ago. He died around the same time Magic Johnson came out about his HIV status. I made the mistake of telling someone I was friends with that he died of AIDS, and their immediate response was to physically distance themselves from my while simultaneously saying "wow, I didn't know your dad was gay." Of course, I then had to respond that he wasn't - he was an IV drug user. He was an addict and he caught a virus that took him from a strong, healthy, vibrant man, who was larger than life in my world, to a skeleton covered by a thin sheet in a VA hospital, where no one wanted to get too close because he had AIDS. I've never been so shocked or heartbroken in all my life than I was the first time I saw him, so sick and frail. The hero of my childhood reduced to bones and wired up to machines, his thick black hair gone, his skull covered with a blue and white handkerchief, his always prominent cheek bones now sharp planes on his face, the skin stretched thin over them, playing second string only to his eyes, which now dominated his face. In them I could see his shame at being so physically humbled, his fear of death and facing a god he'd abandoned in his youth, and his love for me. My father had walked out of my life when I was 15 and I didn't hear from him again until he was dying. I will always be thankful for those last weeks with him; they gave us both an opportunity to heal the wounds which, when inflicted, had seemed mortal.
When my father stepped out of my life, my uncle took over. My mom's brother, he was the heart and soul of my family. There was a light inside of him that drew people to him. He was generous and kind and had a wicked sense of humor that brought us all together. Shortly after my father died we got the news that my uncle had contracted HIV, and, in fact, had AIDS. He was gay. He was an honored Vietnam vet. He was sick for two years before he passed. I thought it was a mercy when he finally went, a mercy that he would no longer suffer, no longer bear the shame and humiliation of losing control of his bodily functions, no longer weep because the pain coursing through his body was more than the morphine and pot could cut. It was a mercy for my grandmother, who was stoic in her care of him, nursing him for those two years, tending to his needs as though he was an infant again. Living with his temper tantrums, his frustration at what his life had become, his own fear of death and her bright, cutting pain at losing her oldest son, her favorite child. His absence has left a hole in my family that will never heal, and there's not a day that goes by that I don't think about him, and about my father, and about how it is that they happened to catch this disease which cut them down so young, so quickly and painfully.
So what's this got to do with gay marriage? I'm getting there, but first, more history: When AIDS was first discovered, they called it GRID - Gay Related Immunodeficiency Disease. Because it was Gay-Related, the USG, and Reagan in particular, didn't see any need to fund research into it. The CDC had a wealth of information about how it spread, and was getting to understand how to halt the spread, but the scientists had to do their research on paltry funds that they gleaned from private donors or other projects - there was simply no money in the budget for AIDS research. And why should they fund it? After all, it only killed gays, right? Gays are such a small part of the population, it's almost like they're not really people. And really, isn't this just god's punishment for their wanton, sinful lifestyles? I've never seen such naked jealousy, such spiteful glee as I saw when some people talked about the disease that god sent as punishment to the gays. Think about it for a minute. Think about a disease which appears to target only one demographic. Think about a government deciding that it's okay to let that demographic die. It was genocide, and no one had to fire a single round.
It wasn't until they discovered that this disease was spreading: spreading to their children, their daughters, their wives, their friends, that the public slowly began to pressure the government for real, scientific information about AIDS. By the time they realized that it was NOT gay-related, that it was in fact blood- and sex-related, it was too late. High-school kids were getting it. Husbands were bringing it home to their wives. Babies were being born with it. Sports legends were coming out about it. It wasn't until then that our government decided that perhaps this might be something worth looking into after all.
So, when gays now fight for the right to be out, when they fight tooth and nail for the right to marry, for the same small rights which we straight people abuse so severely, can you blame them? When they take offense at the phrasing of a magazine article, at the composition of the facts, can you blame them? Can we blame a persecuted people for being overly sensitive? Can we blame them for seeing things we don't, because we're simply not exposed to the prejudices they face every single day in their lives, in subtle and not-so-subtle ways? Can you blame them for being baffled by people who want to "save" them from love? I can't. I don't. I am baffled with them. How on earth could I find something to hate inside of another person's love?
Look, I know I'm preaching to the choir here, but these are just some things I needed to get off my chest today. These prejudices still exist, and are still growing. These prejudices caused the deaths of my father and my uncle. These prejudices will continue to add to the pain and sorrow in this world, and they will continue to cut short the supply of love, of joy, of laughter that each and every one of us should be allowed to fill our lives with. I like to think that love is all we need. But, some of us just don't have the right.