Posts Tagged ‘Gay Rights’

You, Me, and the Portman Effect: Like It Or Not, It’s Bringing Gay Rights

March 26, 2013
A save-the-date card for an event my friend calls her "big ole dyke marriage." "Yay! I declare victory!" she says.

A save-the-date card for an event my friend calls her “big ole dyke marriage.” “Yay! I declare victory!” she says. (Design credit Crystal Davis.)

This week I published an essay about friendship and marriage that included a few examples from my own life. My editor said he loved the insights in the piece, but he warned me to watch out.

Pointing to advice maven Ann Landers’s divorce, he said I should consider the future – I might be writing a personal essay now about my perspectives on a healthy marriage, but who knows? In ten years, I might be in the middle of a divorce, and then, a reader might dig up this article to mock me.

Could I handle that?

I told him that I preferred to live in the present, and if I end up getting divorced, I will deal with it when it happens, instead of letting that unpleasant hypothetical notion hinder what I publish now. I also said that while I strive to write in good taste and not bare anything that’s too personal, I feel that if readers give their attention to my essays, I should be willing to give them my honest self in relatable terms.

My editor listened and nodded and said that was wise. Then he chuckled and shook his head.

“It’d be funny, though, if it happened,” he said of my supposed future divorce.

I share all this with you now because, as the US Supreme Court hears landmark cases this week about marriage equality, I think my gay pals have been resting easy for far too long – it’s high time their unions were as legal as mine, so they can shoulder their share of rude comments like this.

Gay pals have been getting a lot of press recently, as this nugget from the Stephen Colbert show sums up pretty well:

Colbert and NPH

People are calling it the Portman Effect, after Republican Senator Rob Portman announced his support for gay marriage (following a long history of anti-gay legislative votes) because, as it turns out, his son is gay. After years of seeing gays as sub-par, faraway citizens who don’t deserve the right to marry their partners or adopt children, Portman looked at his own child and then wrote “All our sons and daughters ought to have the same opportunity to experience the joys and stability of marriage.

Some people lauded Portman for his courageous stance, given the current state of America’s Republican Party, and others scoffed that politicians should support equality because it’s the right thing to do, not because the issue suddenly becomes personal to you.

Many speculate that the Portman Effect will be at work in the Supreme Court chamber itself, because apparently a gay cousin of conservative Chief Justice John Roberts will attend the oral arguments.

In general, I sympathize with those who find the Portman Effect a lousy reason to support equality – one based on personal experience rather than a larger, more rational acceptance on principle. It reminds me of this fabulous article by Anne Theriault, who argues that a common piece of rape-combating rhetoric is “reductive as hell.”

Pundits and politicians often beg would-be harassers or attackers of women to imagine how they’d feel if their own mother, sister or daughter was battered this way.

Theriault lobs back that this “defines women by their relationships to other people, rather than as people themselves. It says that women are only important when they are married to, have given birth to, or have been fathered by other people.”

Rape isn’t wrong because women are wives, sisters and daughters. Women are people and rape is just wrong.

Maybe a man who would refrain from attacking women because he doesn’t like to think of his own family members being attacked is sort of like a politician who doesn’t support equality until he realizes that anti-gay laws affect a member of his own family.

But the plain truth is that humans are primarily emotional creatures. We can call for high-minded, objective, rational ideals, but things must touch us personally before we can process them.

Count me in on the Portman Effect club – I grew up in an insular Christian atmosphere that didn’t exactly heap bile on gays, but did make it clear that theirs was a sad and disordered lifestyle. Gay schoolmates were well and truly closeted and I didn’t know any better than to oppose gay marriage, declaring I had nothing against gays themselves (should I ever meet any), but I didn’t think they had a legal right to marry.

That lasted about as long as it took me to make some friends who were gay, as soon as I hit college and moved outside the sphere of my family’s church.

The personal is the last bastion between acceptance and prejudice. A family member who opposes gay rights once asked me, in a tone that was meant to end the argument, once and for all,

“Well, how would you feel if someone gay was your children’s teacher?”

The answer I think she expected was that of course, in that case, I would be opposed. However, by that time I had already had a gay teacher and turned out just fine. I bet my future kids would, too.

I admit my own investment in equality probably has as much to do with my own personal universe as it does my civic principles. My own marriage would’ve been illegal just a few decades ago – back when people were arguing that Jesus wouldn’t want the races to mix. I imagine what it would feel like if people were protesting my relationship with signs like “God hates interracial couples” and “Marriage = two people of the same race.”

Imagine how stupid you are going to look

I think the Portman affect applies to racial attitudes as well. I remember sitting around a holiday table with someone who referred to African-American people collectively as “the blacks.”

But in subsequent years, my African husband joined the table, and I was interested to note this dinner guest change her tune ever so slightly the next time she shared an anecdote about an African-American person.

“He was a black…person,” the speaker faltered, eyes dodging ever so slightly – or did I imagine it? – at my husband.

In an ideal world, we’d all sit up and cast out our prejudices on principle, before they looked us in the eye and made us sweat.

Until then, we legally married heterosexual people are just going to have to bear the brunt of other people’s odd comments about our marriages – but I sure hope gay people can get their share soon.

Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off: The Case Against Weddings.

February 1, 2013
My own wedding reception, in July of 2007.

My own wedding reception, in July of 2007.

I’ve got an idea.

High school and college freshmen should all get a party. The night before their first classes, they should celebrate with a big cake, gifts and gift-cards, toasts and a dance party for all their friends. Their intention to finish their diploma or degree merits a big bash.

And why should anyone have to wait until they’re 65 to enjoy the professional accolades of all their friends and colleagues over a catered dinner and plenty of cocktails? If they intend to give a career their best shot, we should encourage them with a lavish celebration before their first day on the job.

If all that actually sounds foolish to you, then why don’t extravagant weddings seem equally unwise?

I don’t want to minimize the boundless suffering of badly-clad bridesmaids, slighted mothers-in-law, and the aftermath of champagne-induced sexual debaucheries.  But a recent New York Times article examines one of the true plagues engendered by our cultural wedding fetish. It’s called “Married to the Plan. Still Looking for a Possible Groom.” It’s about young American women who have their weddings planned all the way down the napkins – even though they don’t even have a boyfriend.

In a stroke of truly incisive and creative reporting, this NYT piece reveals that there are drawbacks to planning your wedding as if the groom is a last-minute prop stitched into a tux.

“First, what some single women imagine may not be feasible and may actually be a waste of effort,” writer Alyson Krueger explains.  She turns to the owner of a wedding trade show company, who says that brides, for example, might dream of guests sipping pumpkin soup. But then, if they get married in, say, Miami, in, say, February, the chef might announce, “I know you love pumpkin soup, but it’s not in season right now.”

Horrors.

“Another problem [as bad as the soup debacle, d’you think?] is the not-quite-bride is not taking into account a future partner and what his needs and considerations might be.”

The trade-show maven goes on.

“‘Even though you have all these ideas and you’ve done your homework and you are prepared as a single girl,’ she said, ‘you have to understand that marriage is a union and you have to take your other half into consideration.’”

But the single girls obsessed with their as-yet-unscheduled weddings weren’t worried.

As one woman explained, “if she met someone she wanted to marry, she doesn’t think his input would matter.”

Krueger does her homework and quotes a clinical psychologist:

“‘I think for anybody it’s much easier to plan a wedding than it is to form a meaningful relationship that is going to lead to a fulfilling marriage.’”

Stop the world, I want to get off.

Not only are women spending untold hours of their lives planning weddings to non-existent grooms. The New York Times finds it necessary to inform us that this one-sided, superficial obsession does not prepare anyone for a real partnership.

I’d like to shake the hand of whoever came up with that angle. I mean, really, thank God for clear-eyed psychologists.

Image from Postsecret.

Image from Postsecret.

It seems to me that lavish weddings are an irresistible incentive for people who have no business embarking on a lifelong emotional, sexual, reproductive, practical and financial partnership.

Imagine a world of marriages, but no weddings.

We would have been spared the whole Kim Kardashian/Kris Humphries fiasco: without the promise of a televised fairy-tale netting millions, these two probably would have forgotten the meaning of the word “marriage” altogether.

Picture it: no Katy Perry/Russell Brand shambles. The world was a grayer place when we all learned that two elephants on a red carpet at a luxe Indian resort does not a marriage make. No acres of tabloids speculating on the wedding of Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, when they already have forty-two children together. No millions of pounds for security measures for the wedding of William and Kate when the rest of Europe is rioting over austerity measures.

True, if we abandoned big weddings, it’s not only the wedding industry that would suffer – advice columnists would see a 75% drop in their mail volume, as all those questions about bridesmaids who dare to get pregnant, guests who demand vegan dinners, and deplorably late thank-you cards would cease to exist.

But if, as the American Psychological Association says, 40-50% of all married couples in the US end up divorced, shouldn’t we consider de-incentivizing marriage itself?

My home church produces a pamphlet about the importance of marriage, and it irks me, because the picture on the cover is of a beautiful young couple in a wedding gown and a tux scampering away together on an idyllic beach.

To avoid giving the wrong impression to those who are selfish enough to believe that their future spouse should have no say in what his own wedding is like, I vote for a different wedding pamphlet image.

I could volunteer the image of my husband and me on the morning we had to get up together before dawn so that we could both go to the insurance-mandated mechanic to hand over our totaled car and sign for a supremely ugly rental before we had to be at work. Or the time my husband got raging tonsillitis while we were on our only vacation of the year. Or the time we bought a couch and then realized it wouldn’t fit in the narrow, angled stairwell to our second-floor apartment.

Sorry, you dewy-eyed lovers, but once the last dance is over, the last congealed canapé is scraped into the caterer’s trash bags, and that new Waterford crystal pitcher is stashed in the closet, that’s marriage.

Did I say I regret it? Of course not. I love my husband and we’ve had many good times. But as the years go by, from coping with grief together to disputes over household chores, marriage can be a mammoth challenge.

And I worry that legions of young people are getting duped into it because of lifelong bridal-gown fantasies.

from Postsecret.

from Postsecret.

I don’t want to you think that my own wedding wasn’t lovely. I argued with my mom about the live goldfish centerpieces, the outdoor July ceremony was wiltingly hot, and I didn’t have time to eat anything during the reception, but it was a wonderful day.

However, it seems that the only thing to match our culture’s divorce rate is our obsession with weddings. At what other time do we lavishly reward people for beginning what is meant to be a difficult lifelong endeavor? (Baby showers, maybe, but giving birth is an even bigger commitment than getting married – you can’t divorce your child and pick a new one.)

The problem with weddings is that they affirm the easiest part of your union (no, that consuming drama over what kind of shrimp you’ll serve or whose estranged aunt should be excluded from the list does not mark the most stressful time of your relationship). You’re young (for the most part – I do realize a greater number of folks are getting married later in life) and you may still be in the giddy infatuation phase of your relationship, when you just can’t get enough of each other. And this – when it all looks so simple and rosy – is when we launch websites to showcase our romance (and disseminate material wish-lists), and spend ourselves into oblivion so all our friends can bear witness to the fantasy.

Maybe we should clear away the sequined gowns, the cummerbunds, the towering cakes with their tasteless marzipan mortar, the lavish gift registries, and the rented parquet, and let marriage stand for what it truly is.

I know many folks from my own family’s church and maybe yours would protest that the beginning of a marriage should be marked with public celebrations, to uphold the value of marriage and help others aspire to it.

But it seems to me that the US at least is already rife with incentives to marry. In fact, countless government benefits bestowed on married couples are a major reason that American gays are still truly second-class citizens in a majority of states.

From taxes, immigration and insurance to inheritance and adoption proceedings, government, social and business policies often favor married couples and their children.

Do we really need fancy weddings, too?

I’m in my late twenties, so of course our fridge is dotted with save-the-date magnets, and I’m happy for my friends. But I’d love to go to a big party for a couple who married modestly and then successfully weathered ten, fifteen, or twenty-five years together. I’d like to toast their love, and, instead of listening to speeches about how much they will mean to each other all their lives (fingers crossed), applaud what the couple has actually achieved and the example they’ve set.

But the reality of marriage is not nearly as sexy and romantic as what we imagine over a new diamond ring. So I fear we’ll continue to wallow in weddings, and hope the rest works out.

Have you been to a wedding (or watched a marriage) that convinced you, one way or the other?

THE ULTIMATE CHICK-FIL-A BLOG POST

August 4, 2012

Sarah Palin, a former US governor and current media lightning-rod, joins her husband in showing support for traditional Christian values…by buying a fried chicken sandwich. (No word yet on why she wears her sunglasses inside.)

Fair warning to my readers outside the US: Americans have got their panties in a major twist this month about some chicken sandwiches.

My dad introduced me properly to Chick-fil-A when I visited my parents a few months ago.

He had been rhapsodizing about Chick-fil-A for at least two or three days by the time we stepped up to the counter: the hot, tasty chicken sandwich with fresh lettuce and tomato, the waffle fries, and most of all, the milkshakes.

I doubt he remembers his kids’ high school graduation as well as he remembers his first taste of the Chick-fil-A Banana Pudding Milkshake: according to him, the treat was both arctic cold and yet still easy to sip through a straw. Real bananas swam in vanilla ice cream and met ultimate bliss with ‘Nilla Wafer cookie crumbles that retained their delicious crunch.

But that wasn’t all – Dad also extolled the stellar customer service at Chick-fil-A. Not only would they serve you the best chicken sandwich in the biz, they’d make you feel like a king.

When we went to Chick-fil-A, the girl behind the counter beamed as if she’d been waiting for us all day, and the chicken sandwich and milkshake were everything I heard they’d be.

The next week, I dragged myself to the mall (I needed an outfit for a job interview). Hungry and trembling with the exhausted vexation of a full-figured woman searching for a blazer that fits in the arms and waist as well as the bust, I saw the red Chick-fil-A marquee at the food court.

As I sat down at a table with my sandwich, I realized that it needed a spot of mayo. There was a long line at the counter and I could only see ketchup packs. Just as I decided to do without, an elderly man in a Chick-fil-A apron appeared at my left elbow.

“How are you doing today, miss?” he said. “Are you enjoying your lunch? Do you have everything you need today?”

“Hi,” I said. “Actually, I was hoping for some mayonnaise.”

He smiled with pleasure, reached into his apron pocket, and handed me a pack of mayo.

“You have a great day, now,” he said, before moving onto the Chick-fil-A lunchers at the next table.

I was transfixed for several moments by the shock of being waited upon in the mall food court, where the closest thing to customer service is the cleaning staff sweeping the floor right where your feet are resting.

“He drives Chick-fil-A’s efforts to provide genuine hospitality, ensuring that customers have an exceptional dining experience in a Chick-fil-A restaurant,” the Baptist Press said of Dan Cathy in a July 16th article.

Chick-fil-A’s proud Christian foundation has been a source of moderate controversy for a long time – devotees of their chicken sandwiches have long bemoaned the company’s strict policy of closing on Sundays.

Oh, and there’s the small matter of Cathy’s public preference for the “Biblical definition of the family unit”, reconfirmed in the same Baptist Press piece.

We could dwell on which Biblical family Cathy admires: King Solomon’s extraordinary assemblage of concubines, or perhaps Jacob’s marriage to the sisters Leah and Rachel and his subsequent fecund, wife-approved romps with two handmaidens. Or maybe Cathy would emulate King David, who sent Bathsheba’s husband off to die on the front lines after spying on her during her bath. Or maybe the law about a widow marrying her husband’s brother resonates best.

But what Cathy means, of course, is the Biblical importance of denying equal rights to homosexuals. His recent comments on the Ken Coleman Show claim that advocates of gay marriage are “prideful” and “arrogant”.

“We’re inviting God’s judgment on our nation when we shake our fist at him and say we know better than you as to what constitutes a marriage,” he says.

Cathy’s comments about gays aren’t usually so pointed or inflammatory. In the past, he’s claimed that Chick-fil-A doesn’t discriminate against anyone, and that as a fast-food restaurant, they have no public political stance.

But gay-rights advocates in the US are pretty riled because of several million dollars Chick-fil-A has donated to far-right American groups that, depending on your source, advocate the “curing” of homosexuality with special reeducation programs, urge the reinstatement of laws against sodomy, teach that homosexuality is naturally associated with pedophilia, and lobby against the repeal of Ugandan laws that punish homosexuality with death.

There hasn’t been a mass shooting, major US natural disaster, or politician caught in a humiliating affair for about two or three weeks over here. Granted, the Olympics are going on. But that doesn’t provide nearly the angst outlet that we need.

So….Chick-fil-A hates gays! TO THE INTERNET!

The fallout has had more unexpected plotlines than a “Game of Thrones” novel.

Among loud lamentations at how tragic it will be to cut this delicious chicken out of our lives, there’s the Chick-fil-A boycott by my liberal peers, who declare that not another penny of their money will go towards donations to hate groups. There was the “Chick-fil-A Appreciation Day” counter-wave, in which thousands of good southern Christians lined up around the block for chicken sandwiches to show their support for NOT supporting the gays.

Chick-fil-A noted record-breaking sales.

Meanwhile, the wider fray was already breaking into more factions than the rebels of Syria.

Multiple city politicians announced to the press that Chick-fil-A would be blocked from building restaurants in their jurisdictions because of Cathy’s views. A tsunami of self-appointed pundits-turned-Constitutional-scholars fought back to define the proper roles not of women and men, but of business and the government.

While we all got our Constitutional dander up, guerilla skirmishes on first-amendment free speech flared as Facebook apparently disabled a page supporting Chick-fil-A, and then quickly reinstated it. Free-speech stalwarts pointed out that Cathy is entitled to his point of view, while a flood of suspiciously anecdotal news stories countered that the free-speech dispute is irrelevant because discrimination is in action at Chick-fil-A, from gay employees who feel compelled to stay in the closet at work to a woman who claims she was fired because her Chick-fil-A manager said women should be stay-at-home moms.

Business experts were more interested in coolly debating whether corporate presidents helped or hurt their profits by taking public stances on hot political and religious issues.

Anti-gay Christians rejoiced that so many people are still willing to rally to their agenda, as evidenced by the epic queues at Chick-fil-A locations below the Mason-Dixon Line. Gay-rights advocates rejoiced that the last corporate stronghold of anti-gay sentiment in America was nothing but a chicken-sandwich chain.

Meanwhile, the high-minded hipster gentry got to work pointing out everyone’s terminal hypocrisy, declaring that those waiting in line to support Chick-fil-A would never flood the volunteer lists of a homeless shelter with such zeal, as Jesus would no doubt want them to, while also taking their secular community-garden buds to task for boycotting Chick-fil-A without also boycotting companies like Apple, Amazon or McDonalds for their egregious violation of things like fair working standards. An NPR commentator pointed out that mayors publicly decrying Chick-fil-A for anti-gay bigotry have ignored proven and persistent racial discrimination in their own districts.

Other commentators held forth on bullying, while others devised all sorts of ways to bedevil Chick-fil-A: ordering chicken while dressed in drag or, based on an obscure Bible passage about providing food and water to your guests, demanding free food of Chick-fil-A employees, if they’re so Christian and all. Gay-rights enthusiasts responded to Chick-fil-A appreciation Day by staging a nationwide same-sex kiss-in at Chick-fil-A restaurants.

And in perhaps my favorite development of all, fat-acceptance activists have begun blasting liberals who try to shame habitual Chick-fil-A eaters for being fat: fighting homophobia with fat-ism is just trading one form of bigotry for another!

All we need is a questionable study linking Chick-fil-A to autism in children of gay parents, and we could keep the controversy going until next Wednesday, at least.

One thing I wonder about is our possibly overblown notion of ownership. If I have converted my money into a chicken sandwich, and then enjoyed said sandwich, do I have cause to make any demands on what Chick-fil-A does with what was formerly my money?

While there is something to be said for voting with your dollar, and buying products from socially and environmentally responsible companies, I can’t imagine tracking every dollar I spend, to make sure that the business who’s got it is disposing of it in a way that pleases me. That dollar ain’t mine anymore and its fate isn’t my business – I traded it for a goldfish or a bottle of nail polish or a banana.

If Dan Cathy gives a fraction of his profits to anti-gay groups, am I complicit in that, when really all I did was convert my dollar into waffle fries? As soon as I polish off the fries, I have no claim on that dollar anymore. Why should the occasional cheerfully-served, heavenly Chick-fil-A milkshake dog my conscience?

As I type, I can practically hear the screams of the progressive mob, who would behead my spineless rhetoric faster than Henry VIII would dispatch an unwanted wife.

The truth is, I can think of better ways to support gay rights than NOT eating at Chick-fil-A. But I doubt that I’ll eat Chick-fil-A again, at least in Philadelphia. Despite what my parents think about my working in the “big city”, it’s really a pretty small town around here, especially if you’ve got the network of a journalist. I can hardly step off the train without running into someone in the crowd that I know.

God forbid they see me with a Chick-fil-A bag. They might think I’m a bigot. Or a Christian. Or a bully. Or a Constitutional law enthusiast. Or a gay-marriage opponent. Or a fat person. Or a fat-activist-hater. Or a Republican. Or a free-speech zealot. Or a hungry, weak-willed liberal. Or, worst of all, an ignoramus who doesn’t read blogs at all.

Lay Off Pastor Worley! You’ve Misunderstood This Man of God.

May 25, 2012

Every time someone in America so much as farts in the direction of a liberal cause, I get a mass e-mail with a petition from a human rights organization faster than you can say “social media”. The outraged letter is already written for me. It even says “Sincerely, Alaina Mabaso” at the bottom. All I have to do is click once to open the e-mail, click on the link to the letter, and click again to add my name to the petition.

Saving the world has never been easier.

So it was that when Pastor Charles L. Worley of Providence Road Baptist Church in Maiden, North Carolina preached in a recent sermon (filmed and put on YouTube) that he’d figured out a way to get rid of the queers and gays and lesbians forever, my e-mail inbox and Facebook feed began to hum with rage.

As the Huffington Post puts it in its headline, Pastor Worley wants to “Put Gays and Lesbians In [An] Electrified Pen To Kill Them Off.”

“NC Pastor calls for concentration camps for gays” announced the e-mail I got today from the Human Rights Campaign (HRC).

“I was simply sickened to hear you advocate for LGBT people to be rounded up and killed off behind electrified fences,” the HRC says in the letter it so kindly wrote for me. “Your despicable remarks did not channel a message of faith, but instead a message of hate…I hope you will learn from this egregious error in judgment.”

Facebook comments were no less disturbed.

“He isn’t fit to pastor any church,” said one. “I say let’s hog tie his ass and kick the S@#T OUT OF HIM,” added another.

My cousin Jim is gay, and he lives in North Carolina (FYI, international readers: NC recently passed an amendment to its state constitution banning gay marriage and denying legal recognition of any civil unions and domestic partnerships, whether the partners are gay or straight – henceforth, the only partnerships recognized by the NC government will be heterosexual marriages). Jim penned an open letter to Pastor Worley, struggling to reconcile Worley’s hate with Christianity’s true call for mercy and not casting stones.

My cousin writes that he was “humbled” after working through his anger at Pastor Worley and realizing that no-one is perfect, including himself. “The judgment of Mr. Worley is not mine,” Jim says. “I am trying my best to love Mr. Worley in spite of his stones. I am going to drop my stones and let the Lord judge Mr. Worley.”

Poor Pastor Worley. If you guys would all just listen carefully to the recording itself, you’d see that we’ve misinterpreted the guy.

Yes, Pastor Worley opposes equal rights for gay people. “The Bahble’s agin’ it,” he says, “God’s agin’ it, Ah’m agin’ it, if you’ve got any sense, you’re agin’ it!”

This is greeted by hoots and amens from his congregation.

But why is everyone saying that Pastor Worley wants to round gays up in a concentration camp and murder them behind an electric fence?

Clearly, that’s not the point of what he’s actually saying.

Yes, it’s true he doesn’t want to share the world with gays. “Ah figured out a way to git rid of all the lesbians n’ queers but Ah couldn’t git it past Congress,” he says mournfully.

But how does he want to get rid of them? With an electric fence? No! He would simply use the gays’ own true nature against them.

Here’s what he says.

“Build a great big large fence, fifty or a hunnerd miles long. Put all the lesbians in there. Fly over and drop some food. Do the same thing with the queers and the homo-sexuals. And have the fence electrified so they can’t git out. In a few years they’ll die out. D’ya know why? They cain’t reproduce.”

What are we all getting so upset about? Clearly Pastor Worley is not looking at the gays’ isolation behind the fence, or even the electricity of said fence, as a fatal force. After all, he advocates feeding the gays by aerial deliveries. Fifty or a hundred miles is a lot of space – that’s hardly a “pen”, Huffington Post! Presumably the gays could forage, build shelters or even start a farm. They wouldn’t die at Pastor Worley’s hand.

Instead of calling for death camps, what he’s trying to call to our attention is a simple biological reality. Surely what he wants to point out is that there’s absolutely no merit in gays helping parent relatives’ children, adopting children, or even conceiving their own children through advances in reproductive science. Gays cannot reproduce, and their confinement behind the electric fence would simply serve to demonstrate this unavoidable fact to the public.

The gays would live out the rest of the current generation behind the fences, noshing on the food so generously air-dropped by Pastor Worley, and failing to replenish their ranks.

Of course, like any plan that seems flawless at face value, there could be glitches here and there. Yes, through the work of nature, we could rid ourselves of the current generation of American gays – but since it sometimes happens that gay children are born to heterosexual parents, even good, Godly ones, what then? Would these children be removed to join their compatriots behind the fence? That would bring up the problem of prolonging the gay population after all, especially if it turned out the gays were capable, in their way, of parenting these abandoned children.

We also would have to face the fact that some gays might not regard the air-drop of food supplies as sufficient incentive to relocate behind the fence. This might even make them want to conceal their homosexuality.

There’s also the chance, however small, that some of the gays, after being fenced, could escape. But if we can do such a good job of keeping the Mexicans out, surely a 100-mile electrified fence for the gays could be effectively guarded (current government funds for enforcement of anti-discrimination laws could be redirected to pay the guards).

These are all small problems that can surely be overcome for a greater cause.

So it isn’t clear to me why the media has denounced Pastor Worley as a bigot and a would-be mass murderer. We haven’t listened properly to the man. He doesn’t want to kill the gays any more than we want to kill endangered mollusks when we dam rivers for our own necessary uses. The gays would simply die out as a natural side-effect of a bigger agenda: to protect us all from the gays’ nefarious plan to love somebody.

The electric-fence proposal isn’t the only part of the sermon the media has insisted on denigrating, but again, they’ve completely missed the point.

“God have mercy, it makes me pukin’ sick to think about,” Pastor Worley says, wondering out loud if he can even say it at the pulpit. “If you imagine kissin’ some man…” his voice trails off in disgust.

While the media has assumed that Pastor Worley means to paint gays as people who collectively make the nation puke, I think this is secondary to his true meaning. The crux of his argument here is that we can sometimes get caught up in debating the social and civil aspects of gays’ quality of life – the right to visit partners in the hospital, take custody of partners’ children, obtain domestic partners’ health insurance, or work without fear of being fired for their gayness – when the important thing is to fixate on gay sex acts, just as it’s our God-given responsibility to dwell on the nighttime activities of every heterosexual couple we pass in the street.

And on a related note, I’m not ashamed to say that, as a married heterosexual woman, I completely agree with Pastor Worley on this. I wouldn’t want to kiss “some man” either – I want to kiss my spouse! Imagine kissing just anyone when you love someone else – yuck. Surely Pastor Worley, too, would like to point out the damage of kissing strangers all willy-nilly.

So that’s why I think we all owe Pastor Worley an apology. As so often happens in the hurricane of fury that passes for American news, we’ve misjudged the true facts of the situation. Even the Human Rights Campaign has gotten it dead wrong, calling for Pastor Worley to regret his “error in judgment.”

I find that Pastor Worley’s sermon is more of an exercise in gut feeling, rather than reason. Just another way the media misrepresents him.

So I hope you can all join me in spreading Pastor Worley’s word. I could’ve just signed that letter from my in-box, but there was so much more I wanted to say.

In case anyone is in any doubt, and it seems from the comments that they are, the reason I signed up with the Human Rights Campaign in the first place is that I strongly oppose statements like those from Pastor Worley. It’s a pretty sad reflection of the world that religiously-justified bigotry like Worley’s is so prevalent that some people didn’t know I was joking. However this piece strikes you, you’re welcome to leave a comment. 


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