A Level Playing Field

Yesterday I marched with tens of thousands of people to demand - from our President, our Congress, our state and local legislators - equality - for each and every American.  

It was overwhelming.  

A few things became clear to me as I marched through Washington, D.C.  A few things became clear as I passed in front of some of the most powerful buildings in the world.

One is what a remarkable country I live in.  It should not be taken for granted that we were able to march and publicly air our grievances.  It should not be taken for granted that we have the right, the opportunity and the responsibility to tell those in power that they are not doing their jobs to our satisfaction and that while this country may be remarkable, it has a long way to go to live up to all of its promises, which, when boiled down to their barest, least complicated expression, is this:  the promise of a level playing field for each and every citizen.  In whatever variation we arrive in.  A level playing field.  From which to contribute to our country.  From which to pursue our own happiness.  

(And isn't that remarkable?  That etched into the bedrock of this country is importance of happiness.  Is there another country in the world that can boast that?)

Those variations were on full display yesterday.  A fact that often gets overlooked is that the gay community is bound together by a thin thread.  We are all, obviously, gay.  Because of that, up to this point, we have been discriminated against.  Once that weight evaporates - once those forces dissipate and recede into history - our sexuality will be what it ought to have always been - a tiny part of who we are as human beings.  We are as varied as variation can be.  It is, in part, why I think that the gay "community" often has trouble finding its "Martin Luther King, Jr."  Our backgrounds are different.  Our religions are different.  Our beliefs are different.  Our opportunities are different.  Our roadblocks are different.  Our politics are different.  Our income levels are different.  Our skin tones are different.  Our accents are different.  Who could possibly speak to all of our challenges when our challenges vary with such reckless abandon?

But there we we yesterday.  Marching as one.  And even as I bring up the differences that often make us an unwieldy bunch, I couldn't help but notice how strikingly similar we are.  To one another.  To everyone else.  There we were.  Elbows.  Eyes.  Feet.  Blood.  Fingers.  Hearts.  Hair.  Livers.  Nipples.  Fingernails.  Skin.  Penises.  Breasts.  Thighs.  Noses.  All pretty much the same.  Wants.  Needs.  Fears.  Dreams.  Hopes.  Wishes.  Joys.  Disappointments.  Heartbreaks.  Horrors. Celebrations.  All pretty much the same.  

All pretty much the same.

All demanding the same simple thing:  a level playing field.  

Nothing more.  And certainly nothing less.

Yesterday was National Coming Out Day.  National Coming Out Day has been around since 1988.  I must admit, while I have always thought it was a fantastic idea, I didn't understand its potential until recently.  In the past few years I have discovered that coming out, while highly personal, is also highly political.  Coming out of the closet - telling the people the truth about who we are - I believe is the most expedient way for us to get full equality in all civil matters under the law.  If every single gay person came out of the closet, every single person in the country would know that they knew at least one gay person.  We do not exist in a vacuum.  We have mothers, daughters, sisters, brothers, fathers, sons, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, grandchildren, friends, bosses, co-workers, acquaintances, clients, etc.  We are a part of the fabric of this society and can not be subtracted.  Unless we stay hidden.  Unless we lie and allow the illusion that we are other.  To remain hidden is to remain scary.

Imagine my disappointment when I did not hear one person mention National Coming Out Day at the rally after the march.  Imagine the pressure that could be unleashed on our politicians - the voice that would erupt - if every single gay person in the country, and every single straight person who knew us - stood up and said, "No more."

That is not to say that I do not understand and appreciate the many LGBT people in this country who live in fear of telling the truth for very real reasons.  It is important to note that today is the tenth anniversary of Matthew Shepard's death.  While horrific, the violence that was committed against him does not stand alone.  

For those who fear physical, professional, familial repercussions - until their fear is no more - those of us who can speak must speak all the more loudly.

We must raise our voices.  

We must demand that most radical of all ideas:  a level playing field for everyone.