June 1, 2016

The day I wrote this article, the United States House of Representatives voted down a bill that would have protected LGBTQ rights. The bill, which was actually expected to pass, would’ve made it illegal for federal contractors to fire employees based on orientation.

It missed by one vote, failing 212 to 213.

This article almost didn’t get written. I almost emailed Betty and said “I have nothing for you this month.” Because I was almost beaten. The hate that is being spewed – not only without fear of repercussion but with authority and legitimacy – very nearly got to me this month.

I texted my sister because I had nothing. It’s not that I didn’t have an idea. Writer’s block sucks but it’s part of being a professional writer. You learn to just start putting words on the page and next thing you know, you’ve got an article, or an essay, or a chapter, or whatever. The day I wrote this, my nothing was more than that.

I couldn’t bring myself to write an events article. Not with all the government sanctioned hate happening to us right now. But I couldn’t bring myself to write another article about the hate. Not this month. I had … nothing.

And then my sister texted me back. My niece, her daughter, is in the 5th grade. Goes to public school. In the interest of full disclosure, she goes to public school in one of the most liberal, tipped all the way over to the left, artsy, earthy crunchy towns in the entire country. She still goes to public school. Here in the United States.

Two of her friends, her schoolmates, are transgender girls. Openly, happily, supported by parents and community alike. In 4th and 5th grade.

My friends, Darin and David, have become foster parents in order to begin the process of adoption. They’re in Oregon.

My friends, Christine and Teresa, just up and got married at the spur of the moment last month. They’re in Connecticut.

And another friend (who shall also remain unidentified, because he’s a minor) has come out to his friends, his school, and his mom as definitely gay, possibly transgender, and certainly bigender. He’s in Maryland (and still requests male pronouns, just to be clear).

Five instances of love don’t even count as a drop given the tsunami of hatred that’s rushing toward us right now – and yet they MUST matter. They DO matter.

Because it is different. And I have to believe that we will push back against the hate. 

Now is not an easy time. I’m deeply afraid it will get worse before it gets better. And – it is different. So I hold onto that. Because that’s something.

Until next month, Poppets, take care of you – and each other.