"What do we want?"
Apr. 29th, 2009 08:55 pm![[personal profile]](http://s.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
snugglebitchYesterday, record numbers of people went to the Empire State Pride Agenda's annual Equality and Justice Day. Two thousand turned out to lobby our state legislators in Albany, and while we were there to lobby for three different bills (the Dignity for All Students Act, the Gender Expression Non-Discrimination Act, and same-sex marriage) there was one thing on the majority of participants minds. Between the opening comments by Governor Paterson and State Senator Tom Duane, the chants at the noon-time rally, and the overwhelming number of personal accounts during the lobby sessions, it was pretty clear that marriage equality was the star of the day.
Am I ever tired of that.
I get why it's important. I know about the more than a thousand rights and privileges that same sex couples are denied without access to marriage. I’ve heard account after account of partners denied the health insurance benefits that a heterosexual couple would have access to. Account after account of the difficulties same-sex couples face when adopting children or even the ways in which their parental rights are called into question with regard to their biological offspring. Account after account of partners being denied access to each other when in hospital care, even if one of them is dying. Account after account of lives torn apart when a surviving partner is cast out of a life built with another because their family wasn’t considered legitimate.
Those accounts are etched into my memory and gnaw at the pit of my stomach, and yet, I still cannot be brought to care about the fight for marriage equality. Why? Because when same-sex marriage becomes the law in New York State, and eventually in the United States, those horrifying accounts will continue to be the reality for me and my family. Those one thousand, three hundred twenty-four rights and privileges that the same-sex marriage lobby are fighting for will still be denied to the people I most care about. My family will continue to be seen as illegitimate, will continue to be seen as less than.
There are as many ways to experience family in this world as there are people in it, and yet, only one of those experiences has been deemed worthy of recognition by law. This is my experience with family: My family of origin has been both physically and emotionally abusive, the latter continuing even after they disowned me for being trans and queer. And yet, by law, these are the people who have default access to me when I am sick in the hospital, at my most vulnerable. These are the people who have default access to my belongings, if I ever pass on. These are the people who have default access to my children. I can take steps to protect myself from this, but even those can be easily contested because the country I live in considers them my family. Not the friends who took me into their arms when I was kicked out. Not the partners that I've built my life with. Not the people I know love and respect me, the people I know will always be there for me. They can't be my family, not in a legal sense, however truly they might embody that word for me.
This is only my story. There are so many families out there that, legally, have no right to that word, no right to each other, families that can live together as families for years or decades only to learn how tenuous their legal ties to each other are when the worst happens.
The past twenty years of gay activism has seen the movement struggling so hard to get what the straight world has that it has never stopped to consider there could be something better. We wouldn't need to worry about insurance benefits if every person in this country were insured. We wouldn't need to worry about our partners and friends from other countries being deported if we fought for immigrants' rights. We wouldn't have to worry about those more than a thousand rights and privileges, if those more than a thousand rights and privileges were easily available to anyone, regardless of how they choose to make their families.
There's an opportunity here to redefine what legally makes a family in way that will be truly meaningful, in a way that is necessary for far too many of us. The singular drive for same-sex marriage is a spectacular waste of that opportunity.
Am I ever tired of that.
I get why it's important. I know about the more than a thousand rights and privileges that same sex couples are denied without access to marriage. I’ve heard account after account of partners denied the health insurance benefits that a heterosexual couple would have access to. Account after account of the difficulties same-sex couples face when adopting children or even the ways in which their parental rights are called into question with regard to their biological offspring. Account after account of partners being denied access to each other when in hospital care, even if one of them is dying. Account after account of lives torn apart when a surviving partner is cast out of a life built with another because their family wasn’t considered legitimate.
Those accounts are etched into my memory and gnaw at the pit of my stomach, and yet, I still cannot be brought to care about the fight for marriage equality. Why? Because when same-sex marriage becomes the law in New York State, and eventually in the United States, those horrifying accounts will continue to be the reality for me and my family. Those one thousand, three hundred twenty-four rights and privileges that the same-sex marriage lobby are fighting for will still be denied to the people I most care about. My family will continue to be seen as illegitimate, will continue to be seen as less than.
There are as many ways to experience family in this world as there are people in it, and yet, only one of those experiences has been deemed worthy of recognition by law. This is my experience with family: My family of origin has been both physically and emotionally abusive, the latter continuing even after they disowned me for being trans and queer. And yet, by law, these are the people who have default access to me when I am sick in the hospital, at my most vulnerable. These are the people who have default access to my belongings, if I ever pass on. These are the people who have default access to my children. I can take steps to protect myself from this, but even those can be easily contested because the country I live in considers them my family. Not the friends who took me into their arms when I was kicked out. Not the partners that I've built my life with. Not the people I know love and respect me, the people I know will always be there for me. They can't be my family, not in a legal sense, however truly they might embody that word for me.
This is only my story. There are so many families out there that, legally, have no right to that word, no right to each other, families that can live together as families for years or decades only to learn how tenuous their legal ties to each other are when the worst happens.
The past twenty years of gay activism has seen the movement struggling so hard to get what the straight world has that it has never stopped to consider there could be something better. We wouldn't need to worry about insurance benefits if every person in this country were insured. We wouldn't need to worry about our partners and friends from other countries being deported if we fought for immigrants' rights. We wouldn't have to worry about those more than a thousand rights and privileges, if those more than a thousand rights and privileges were easily available to anyone, regardless of how they choose to make their families.
There's an opportunity here to redefine what legally makes a family in way that will be truly meaningful, in a way that is necessary for far too many of us. The singular drive for same-sex marriage is a spectacular waste of that opportunity.
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I didn't have much luck talking to too many state reps. My own refused to come out and talk to us--maybe he was actually busy with something, or not there.
I did get to talk to my parent's (and grandmother's) state rep--representing the largely white Catholic south chicago suburb district I grew up in. He was really cagey about whether he would support the bill, though he did allow that couples besides who can marry now deserve to have certain rights as families. sigh. he was kind of a jerk, and started talking about the sacraments.
Last year, neither of my representatives met with us; both sent aids. One seemed very receptive (but that reception didn't translate into votes), the other... Well, the other is a consummate politician, with the not-so-unique ability to talk out both sides of his ass. His aid was very good at this, as well.
The trans caucus was good this year, though, much better than last year. Met a bunch of really cool trans folks from around the state (which was something I really needed, cuz it's been kinda hard to find cool trans folks here in Rochester).
I know a good number of Chicago metro trans folks. Would have been nice to meet some downstaters.
I was invited to help organize the trans caucus this year, but I had too much on my plate as it was.
The other trans individual in the group we put together has some... communication issues and I didn't want to leave it all on the ally's head.
Still. I feel like I didn't achieve a whole lot with the smooth-talking aide. >.
And it really bothers both of us that we can't incorporate another into our circle in a way that allows the legal benefits necessary to get past all the legal idiocy dropped into people's laps when dating or involved.
So I couldn't get too excited about marriage equality, because marriage is a bit of a tiny thin band-aid stuck on a pretty big socio-economic wound in the system to begin with.