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Confession: The bad news early this week, combined with needing a vacation from my Memorial Day holiday weekend minibreak made for a pretty quick and painful week. I’ve been devouring articles on the Prop. 8 fallout, working like mad and oscillating between feeling angry and despairing or feeling all the more empowered and inspired to do something about marriage equality.

More specifically, I am really angry that ALL of the LGBT content on barackobama.com and whitehouse.gov has been taken down or revised into something managing to be hyper-condensed and watered down at the same time. I agree with everything that is said here, in an open letter to President Obama written by L.A. Gay & Lesbian Center’s Chief Executive Officer Lorri L. Jean. My favorite excerpt, though of course I encourage you to open and read ALL of these links when you have time:

We know the country faces many serious challenges and we have strived to be patient. We’ve waited for the slightest sign you would live up to your promise to be a “fierce advocate” for our equal rights while watching gay and lesbian members of the armed forces, who have never been more needed, get discharged from the military. And so far you have done nothing. No stop loss order. No call to cease such foolish and discriminatory actions that make our nation less safe.

You pledged to repeal the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy, Mr. President. You promised to support a “complete repeal” of the so-called Defense of Marriage Act and pledged to advocate for legislation that would give same-sex couples the 1,100+ federal rights and benefits we are denied, including the same rights to social security benefits. You said, “Federal law should not discriminate in any way against gay and lesbian couples.”

I am appalled to the point of feeling literally faint with horror and disbelief upon reading this article by Andrew Sullivan of The Atlantic, and here is an excerpt from it:

Here we are, in the summer of 2009, with gay servicemembers still being fired for the fact of their orientation. Here we are, with marriage rights spreading through the country and world and a president who cannot bring himself even to acknowledge these breakthroughs in civil rights, and having no plan in any distant future to do anything about it at a federal level. Here I am, facing a looming deadline to be forced to leave my American husband for good, and relocate abroad because the HIV travel and immigration ban remains in force and I have slowly run out of options (unlike most non-Americans with HIV who have no options at all).

And what is Obama doing about any of these things? What is he even intending at some point to do about these things? So far as I can read the administration, the answer is: nada. We’re firing Arab linguists? So sorry. We won’t recognize in any way a tiny minority of legally married couples in several states because they’re, ugh, gay? We had no idea. There’s a ban on HIV-positive tourists and immigrants? Really? Thanks for letting us know. Would you like to join Joe Solmonese and John Berry for cocktails? The inside of the White House is fabulous these days.

Yesterday, Robert Gibbs gave non-answer after non-answer on civil unions and Obama’s clear campaign pledge to grant equal federal rights for gay couples; non-answer after non-answer on the military’s remaining ban on honest servicemembers. What was once a categorical pledge is now – well let’s call it the toilet paper that it is.

I’m just at a loss to say anything further, but there was one small triumph, one small thing that I could do this week to feel less powerless, so I decided to change my legal name. While M & I discussed it long ago and I’d been meaning to get around to it, on Wednesday I marched into the Social Security Administration offices in Oakland and demanded a legal name change with my marriage certificate in hand. And what do you know, less than five minutes after I stomped into there, I floated out with my receipt in hand, officially Mrs. M. FFAF Tomboy. The next and final step as far as officious bureaus and things are concerned was the DMV, and they asked that I return either after 72 hrs. to verify the SSA change electronically, or once I have my newly issued SSN card in hand, so I’ll do that as soon as it comes in the mail. In the meantime, the change feels FANTASTIC! I love it. In a way, I’m glad I’d procrastinated on taking care of it, because it was somewhat healing and empowering to do it this way, at this time, in response to those cowardly opinions.

Finally, in No More Mr. Nice Gay in The Huffington Post, Michael Rowe beautifully captures the three historical pillars of social exclusion and here’s my favorite excerpt from that article (bolding mine):

The LGBT community isn’t demanding the first gay president…or a lesbian Supreme Court Justice. Yet. What they want, and what they’re fighting for is full membership in American society without the three historical pillars of social exclusion (especially for men): the ability to marry someone of their own choice, the ability to raise and protect a family, and the right to serve and defend their country in the military. If those aren’t “family values,” then “family values” don’t exist. LGBT people are not any threat to “the family.” They are the family: sons, daughters, fathers, mothers, aunts, uncles, husbands, wives. The joining of two families is one of the oldest rites in the history of the human race.

It’s time that the full rights of every American be fully enshrined and protected, and that the battle for those rights be acknowledged as this generation’s defining civil rights battle.

Below are a couple of really great, brief videos to watch if you can’t stand any more on the subject. The first is a video of the (gentle) arrests made on Tuesday in San Francisco immediately following the 10AM announcement. The second is a great TV commercial made by the Courage Campaign, and I closed out with some funny via a parody by The Defenders – it’s pretty awesome and first in a coming series.

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If you made it this far, I thank you and appreciate all the well wishes and sweet thoughts y’all have been passing our way. If any FFAF readers are going to Meet In The Middle tomorrow, I want to know ASAP!

When: Tuesday, Jan. 20th, 2008.

Femme What: James Jeans, ruffled tuxedo blouse by INC, red wool coat, vintage I. Magnin. Thrifted navy belt and red scarf, two-tone Mary Janes by Linea Paolo.

Femme Confession: Was everybody ready for today or what? It was such an incredible, exciting day. I had no idea what to expect. None at all. The petite and I joined a friend of ours very early this morning at the Oakland Coliseum (I refuse to call it the McAfee Coliseum or Oracle Arena or whatever they refer to it as nowadays) for the Special Presidential Inauguration Viewing. I had hoped that folks would come through with their special Oaklandish brotherly love, because it really is a special kind of love, and they did, with abandon! It was wonderful. What a spectacular day! I’m overcome with joy, I really am. And for the first time in my life, I think, I proudly wore red, white and blue. Have we got the most handsome, graceful first family there ever was or what?! I think yes, yes, yes!

Tomboy What: Grey ‘Producer’ pants from Express, white dress shirt from Express, blue striped tie from Penguin, black Kenneth Cole boots, red Old Navy windbreaker jacket, silver tie clip from flea market!

Tomboy Confession: Ow! I am so sore from working out yesterday, it hurt to turn the steering wheel while driving. Operation “Get Buff” is in full effect!

When: Tuesday, November 4th, 2008.

Tomboy What: Faggy grey slacks from INC that offer no protection against the cold, white Alfani wrinkle-free shirt (is it?? who knows, the dry cleaners iron it), blue-tidal-wave-of-democracy tie by Penguin, Kenneth Cole ankle boots. I really should start wearing wool.

Tomboy Confession: I volunteered for the California Democratic Party today, waking up voters and harassing them to get out and vote for Obama, even though I am registered as Libertarian. I am glad Obama SWEPT the country tonight to finally prove that we are not a nation of fundamental Christian, war-mongering, racist, xenophobic, greedy asshats (some of us are only one of those things, thank you very much!). I am elated that douchetards like “Joe-the-Plumber-who-does-not-want-his-fictitious-income-taxed” are not in the majority, and I am glad women and young people voted in record numbers, and I hope Karl Rove developed a new ulcer tonight. We are still waiting on the final outcome of Prop 8 here in California, which is currently a bit of a disappointment, but civil rights issues don’t just go away and neither will fabulous gay weddings. Number of times the universe imploded while gay-marriage was legal in California: 0.

Femme What: Skinny trousers from Laundry by Shelli Segal, t-shirt by Urban Renewal and vest from H&M. Red and black patent leather flats by Linea Paolo. (The t-shirt is M’s and says “I dig feel emotionally in touch with chicks that are hot vote.” It’s so much funnier when a lesbian wears it. At least I think so.)

Femme Confession: Just under a month ago I sat a table in a bar, smoking a cigarette, pessimistically shaking my head at the easy, affable confidence of my company for the evening. We were discussing the possibility that Barack Obama might win this presidency handily, and my heels were dug deep into the thick of cynicism. I suppose it is possible that a five-course meal could have been served on the surface area of the chip on my shoulder, and not a little bitterly, I thought their certainty foolish and careless.

I have always said that when I am wrong, I will admit it, and freely. Without further ado: I was wrong! Terribly wrong. What a relief, to be wrong!

Since that night in that bar, M & I have donated to both No On Prop 8 and Obama campaigns, we have phone banked to New Mexico and Nevada, we have flyered unfamiliar neighborhoods in Oakland and earlier tonight I counted votes at my old precinct’s polling place and then canvassed, door-to-door, freezing in this paper thin t-shirt with my little flashlight and list of names from the CA Democratic Party. M worked the morning volunteer shift at the Democratic HQ on Broadway today making calls for No On Prop 8. I am so glad that I did, and that she did, too, and I am so glad that I was so wrong that night.

Cautiously, steadily, my hope has risen, though I’d be a liar if I said my stomach wasn’t in terrible knots all morning long, and for much of the day. I honestly thought I might throw up at work.

After flyering on Sunday, M said that she hoped today’s results would end in a tidal wave of blue, and it has. From the House to the Senate to our new president elect, it’s a goddamn tidal wave of blue! We have ourselves one hell of a government poised to deliver us from the havoc wreaked in the last miserable eight years, and I can breathe ever so much more easily over my daughter’s future, and ours as a family now that the good folks who will soon enough be in the White House see us as equal to every other family. I can breathe easier for the futures of my friends and the families they will grow (or not grow) as well, gay or straight. I can breathe easier for my friends who are a bit further along in life than I am, whose savings and retirement have been decimated by this abysmal economy.

It seems that, at last, the veil of ominous gloom and resignation is lifting.

Of note:

- None of the abortion measures across the country are passing.
- Black women of my wondrous state, what gives?! Even your men aren’t for Prop 8! Come on.
- Today we saw the biggest turnout of WOMEN at the polls in 90 years!
- So so so many red states turned blue. Fucking incredible.

My favorite story from today, though, is this one by far:

“My polling place is at the fairgrounds in Southern Maryland, about 40 minutes from Washington, D.C. This used to be tobacco country, but is slowly being developed, or other crops are grown. We waited until 10:00 to vote, to avoid the lines. When we got there a 97-year-old black man was being wheeled out of the polls in his wheelchair. It was the first time he had ever voted in his life. When he came outside he asked if anyone could give him an Obama button. There were none left at the Democrat’s booth so I gave him mine. He was so proud and I started crying. He looked at me and said, “Why are you crying? This is a day for glory.”

A day for glory, indeed. There is, as ever, a light and it never goes out.