Today, at 1:30 pm EST, folks all across the country will gather to protest the passage of Prop 8 in California. To find out about the event closest to you, go here.
I’ve written before about why I opposed Prop 8, and why I’m outraged that it did pass. Rather than do it again, I’ve asked my sister, Vickey, and sister-in-law, Erin, to share their reaction:

We are heartsick. While it is me [Erin] writing this down, I wanted to say the following sums up both of our post-election feelings and experiences, and I am speaking for both of us.
We are stunned by the victory of the forces of hatred. We are stunned at the enormous effort that went into passing Proposition 8, which legalizes discrimination in our state Constitution. Just the money — $70 million — spent by the pro-Prop 8 forces sets me reeling.
We’ve each experienced quite a few responses to Prop 8’s passage. Most feel blasé to me. Many responses were somewhere on the shocked-and-pained continuum, ranging from “Oh wow, bummer.” (sincere pause, followed by well-meaning platitude) “Have you tried that new Thai restaurant?” to a straight friend throwing herself in my arms sobbing, unable to speak. People tell us solemnly that it’s so sad and wrong, so totally out of the blue, but (sock on the arm) we really should keep this in perspective. After all, it’s getting better, isn’t it? More people believe in gay marriage, the numbers prove it. You should be grateful you’ve come so far. You’re almost there. You’re almost equal.
Almost and Equal do not go together, folks. And while we’re at it, why is it separated into gay marriage and straight marriage? Marriage is marriage.
I acknowledge that there is a valid point here — that change involving equality is agonizingly slow. I know these comments are well-meant. I certainly don’t want to imply any disrespect or lack of appreciation for all those people who went out and voted for our rights, and who remain here, trying to cheer us on.
And yet, I feel uneasy. What bothers me is the almost total absence of pain and shock among our straight friends. I can only take this omission to be indicative of at least a partial lack of understanding the fundamental issue of how unequal our rights are, exactly.
I find myself wanting to say to my very loving, well-meaning friend who isn’t quite getting why I’m so sad:
Imagine waking up next to your husband this morning. You’ve been married for 26 years. You have children and grandchildren. Suddenly, your marriage is gone, your right ever to be married is gone, and it’s written into the state Constitution that this discrimination is not only legal, but encouraged. People of opposite genders must be stopped from marrying. It threatens the very foundations of marriage.
How would you feel — besides incredulity at how ludicrous it would be to stop people of opposite genders from marrying?
That’s how it feels to me. How in the world does my (same-gender) marriage have any impact on someone else’s (opposite-gender) marriage? It’s just totally ridiculous and insane.
This was my 81 year-old mother’s baffled reaction to the passing of Prop 8:
I don’t see how your marriage or anyone else’s affects our 60-year marriage except for pride in all four of us.
So I ask my straight friends, how would you feel, waking up to find out that your neighbors voted away your legal rights because you’re heterosexual, and then I said it kinda bothers me? Would you feel. . .maybe a little disoriented? Sad? Angry? Disheartened? Afraid? Would you wonder who, exactly, thought your stable family was a personal threat? Was it one of your basketball buddies? Someone from your kids’ carpool?
What would you should tell your children? Good luck.
What if, later that morning on TV, you saw Christians, filmed in their churches, celebrating, with tears of joy, that you now can be legally discriminated against? That it’s now legal to hate you and strip you of your place in our common culture?
What if, in a jolt of shock, you recognize that the church on TV is the one right next to yours, the one your church had the joint potluck with last Thanksgiving? The one you combine choirs and services with to create a more joyful worship-filled Christmas Eve? What if you recognized individuals behind the hateful signs and joyful tears: people from that day you prayed together, before you all went to volunteer at the food bank?
How would you feel then?
Like you were making progress?
Would you feel grateful?
Would you feel the winds of change?
Or would you wonder who else hates you? Would you wonder if some of your neighbors don’t believe that you even have the right to be Christian?
Would you wonder if they helped raise $70 million to prevent you from having the same rights as they take for granted?
What would Jesus have done with $70 million dollars? Would he have helped the lepers, healed the sick, fed the poor, purchased the teachers materials to teach with? Would he have provided health care to children below the poverty line?
Or would he have gone to the government of his time and try to force discrimination against, say, prostitutes, into law. With whom exactly did Jesus hang out? Do you think Jesus would have said, “Oh prostitutes, lepers, and tax collectors are fine, but gays. . . .? Gays? Eewww. Or would He have embraced us as His brothers and sisters, fighting for our right, as people disenfranchised from society, to live freely and follow our common God?
I’m not sure which makes me more depressed and sad: the supposed invalidation of our previously legal marriage, or the fact that Americans - Californians - including many people of faith, actually voted discrimination into our state constitution. How shocking is that? Why are more people not deeply shocked that Americans, so proud of the melting pot and equal rights for all, even considered equality a problem?
Please, all of you, close your eyes and go back to your fourth grade classroom. Put your hand over your heart and finish saying the pledge of allegiance you made to your country every single school day:
. . .with liberty and justice for all.
You pledged allegiance to the United States of America, remember? Our pledge does not end “with liberty and justice for some.”
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