In January of 2006, as dozens of anti-gay marriage amendments were sweeping through the states, I began covering the LGBTQ movement for a local New York City paper. With the darkest days of a decade-long plague that decimated our community behind us, the very core of our humanity was now under attack in the new millennium.
Republicans had seized on opposition to same-sex marriage as a wedge issue they could use to stoke the urgency of their base and theoretically peel off some Democratic voters, much the way Donald Trump super-charged nativism in 2016 to both energize his base and siphon off some white working-class votes from Democrats. Following the first barrage of same-sex marriage bans in 2004, public opposition to the budding concept of marriage equality spiked to 59 percent after it had been slowing subsiding for years. As the 2006 elections approached, the LGBTQ movement proved powerless at stopping another wave of assaults coming at the ballot box. When the dust settled, more than half the states had passed gay marriage bans and no one had a road map to recovery. In that political moment, all seemed lost.
Yet as deep as the devastation was, it marked the beginning of a concerted decade-long push that would see the first-ever pieces of pro-LGBTQ legislation passed at the federal level, the slow-but-sure political embrace of marriage equality by Democrats, and ultimately the nullification of those very same marriage bans a decade later.
Over the weekend, when Republicans finally succeeded at installing Brett Kavanaugh to the Supreme Court after the most cut-throat nomination battle in modern memory, GOP lawmakers took to saying the nation had finally reached “rock bottom.” Many progressives across the country agree with that characterization, though for different reasons. But what I know in my heart after covering one of the most dynamic decades of the movement for lesbian, gay, and transgender freedom is that rock bottom is a beginning, not an end. It is the necessary wake-up call that precedes a movement of foot soldiers who rise up to change the politics of our time.
As seasoned gay rights activist Cleve Jones said in 2008 as the battle raged over a California ballot measure that ultimately took hard-earned marriage rights away from same-sex couples: “History is full of examples where people who thought they were free woke up one morning and discovered they weren’t free and they had to fight or die.”
That’s the prospect a solid majority of Americans woke up to on Sunday morning, after the Supreme Court’s fifth decisive seat had been secured by a partisan ideologue who will surely help gut access to abortion, attack the voting rights of people of color, strip health coverage from millions of Americans, roll back climate change regulations, and elevate the power of corporations over the lives of real people.
In many ways, the marriage amendments of the mid-aughts served a similar function to Brett Kavanaugh’s confirmation to the high court: it locks in an antiquated worldview just at the moment the country as a whole is clearly moving in the other direction. The marriage amendments came precisely as the nation was growing more culturally accepting of queer Americans. Beloved comedian Ellen DeGeneres had come out in 1997, shows with openly gay characters like Will & Grace were thriving, and support for the freedom to marry had risen 15 points from 1996 to 2004, 27 to 42 percent. Then boom.
In a similar sense, the confirmation of a nakedly partisan warrior has now locked in conservative prejudice against progressive and, indeed, majority ideals on the highest court in the land. Republicans not only hold minority views on hot-button issues of the day, they’re also distinctly in the minority on the political trends of our time. A solid majority of Americans have disapproved of Donald Trump from almost the moment he set foot in office. A plurality of Americans consistently opposed the confirmation of Kavanaugh. Likewise, a near-majority of Americans now hold a favorable opinion of the Affordable Care Act, while keeping certain provisions of the Obama-era law attracts strong majorities, such as 75 percent support for protecting people with pre-existing conditions. And more voters dislike rather than like the GOP’s main legislative “win,” the tax law. It’s proven such a flop, Republicans can’t even sell it on the campaign trail.
In a broader sense, public opinion stands against much of what the conservative-leaning Supreme Court is now poised to decide on the most vexing political issues of this era. As New York Times writer Emily Bazelon noted in a piece about the high court’s imminent lurch to the right, support for Roe v. Wade is at an all-time high. Public opinion has turned solidly against partisan gerrymandering with the midterms featuring a handful of ballot measures aimed at combatting the practice in Colorado, Michigan, Missouri, Ohio, and Utah. An overwhelming majority of Americans want to limit the political power granted to large corporations in the Citizens United opinion. And opinion polls find solid majority support for increasing regulations to protect the environment.
But one glaring difference between the plight of LGBTQ Americans fighting for marriage equality and progressive Americans now left to fight for the prevailing opinions of our times, is that the Supreme Court was the place where gay and transgender advocates sought redress and, frankly, are still doing so. That very same venue now provides little hope of protecting the majority from the tyranny of the conservative minority on a host of issues, LGBTQ equality included.
Now the future of the republic must be righted through electoral means rather than depending on the judicial branch to steward the nation through a transitional time. This can be done, but keep in mind that it’s a marathon not a sprint. It starts with, at the very least, Democrats retaking the House this November along with reclaiming a swath of gubernatorial seats. Then on to 2020 and Democrats winning the presidency as redistricting surges through the states, blunting the GOP’s gerrymandered advantage.
In essence, our elected leaders are the recourse. They have to and can serve as a check on a Supreme Court that’s severed from prevailing public opinion in the same way President Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s court-packing threat to a right-leaning Supreme Court did in 1937. Electoral redress isn’t a sure bet, but it’s a fair prospect when the vast majority of Americans agree on the issues, see the threat that is posed to the foundations of our democracy, and engage in the hard work of generational change.
As civil rights activist Fannie Lou Hamer once told budding peace and gay rights activist David Mixner, “Honey, courage is just a lack of options.” That’s as true for the heart of an activist as it is for a politician whose options have been taken away by a motivated electorate. Sometimes politicians only do the right thing when they conclude they have no other choice.
That’s the energy that pulsed through the halls of Congress last weekend as Republicans prepared to defy the will of a majority of Americans who didn’t elect them, didn’t elect Trump, and didn’t support Kavanaugh’s nomination. I have seen that energy come to Washington before and watched it transform the laws of this nation as I covered the Obama White House. It is sustainable when the stakes are so high that people rearrange their lives to become committed agitators rather than one-time voters. Those stakes are high enough now for an enormous swath of country—especially for women, sexual assault survivors, post-Parkland gun control advocates, Latinos, people of color, climate change activists, American Indians, and LGBTQ Americans.
Former President Barack Obama says, “Don’t boo, vote!” I say, don’t just vote, organize and activate. Engaging in any single worthy political cause right now, be it local, statewide, or federal, will activate those around you. That’s the engagement that gets people to polls, and engagement is the key. The numbers are there.
As overwhelming as this past weekend was, don’t fret: We stand on the shoulders of many giants, across a wealth of American movements, who pushed our nation forward in perilous times. They will surely lift us up to this political moment too.
Kerry Eleveld is the author of Don’t Tell Me to Wait: How the Fight for Gay Rights Changed America and Transformed Obama’s Presidency.