I stood behind the police barrier as the people walked past me. Hundreds became thousands. There was about 50 of us penned in the fences, but there was a countless mob of ethnic Christians all around. Their brown faces twisted with hate and disgust. They were armed with megaphones and Biblias. Most of their ramblings were in a foreign language, but it was clearly translated into one word – “homophobia”.
Why was I inspired to go to this anti-gay marriage protest that was sponsored by Radio Vision Cristiana International and the Hispanic Clergy Organization? Because I wanted the haters to put faces to the people they are discriminating against. You can’t bring bus-loads full of people, who speak English as a second language, into the gay island of Manhattan to protest without hearing from us. I wanted to represent.
Since we were dealing with very religious activists, I wanted to bring a symbol with me that they would recognize. I brought a bright, yellow crucifix with a wooden heart attached to the middle, where Jesus usually hangs. It was given to me by a developmentally disabled student of mine years ago. To me, it means unconditional love. It means that everyone is equal in the eyes of love, no matter your religious beliefs. I stood silently, with my cross at my chest, and made sure to look everyone in the eye as they went past. The site of a faggot holding a cross drove them insane.
“God bless you”, said one lady without looking me in the eye.
“God bless you”, said an old man as he walked by with his eyes closed.
“It’s not about hate, it’s about love. Jesus LOVES you.” An angry teenager told us this, but her tone was full of anger. I thought perhaps it was due to her age, then a lady in her 40’s walked past and sneered, “God bless you”. This happened too many times to count. The looks of confusion on the children’s faces was heartbreaking.
As the parade of hostile churchgoers continued, I noticed that the script they were saying said, “Jesus loves you” or “God bless you”, but the subtext in their hearts was “Fuck you fag” or “You’re sick, jerk”. What they were saying clearly did not match what they were feeling. Every time a Bible was shoved in my face, I couldn’t help but hear the real Jesus say, “Please don’t do that. Please don’t use my name in hate.” I can’t think of anything more sick than the sanctimonious actions of every mother who walked by carrying their daughter in their arms or pushing their son in a stroller while using Jesus as a tool of hate. Completely disgusting people.
Whenever minorities speak out against gay marriage, it really pushes my “fuck off” button. They know similar struggles, they are supposed to “get it”. Homophobia runs deep in religion and misunderstanding. It’s clear that blacks, or latinos in this case, are born “that way”, but gay people have to prove over and over again, that we are based in genetics too. Until everyone understands that, nothing will truly change.
On the upside, I got to meet Lt. Dan Choi (click his name to see his video on The Rachel Maddow Show), who was part of the under-attended counterprotest. He has become the current face of the ‘Don’t Ask Don’t Tell’ policy. He is also originally from Orange County, Ca. and he told me about how his dad refuses to talk to him since he came out of the closet. We chatted for about 5 minutes. He is such a great guy.
After an hour of barfable latinos yelling at me, I went to get drunk on sangria at brunch with a bunch of gays. I have made a slide show full of the gross people I encountered while at the protest. Enjoy!
“Oh Barbara, I’m so glad you brought me here.” He had a creepy look in his eye. He slithered over and wrapped his arms around my body and hugged me. He wouldn’t let go. It was a very intense and physical embrace, especially for a stranger who came late and didn’t bother introducing themselves. I slipped into panic mode and I got thrown off in the scene. It became awkwardly fighty. My sincere reaction was for his character to get the fuck off me and stop touching me. I told him to “go fold napkins”. Horrible. Definitely not the textbook improv they were looking for.
