Welcome to the first day of my blog, Love Not H8. It’s a big step for me. You see, I was never really the rabble-rouser type. I had my beliefs, but I was always an observer to the changes in our society, not the instigator.
On Nov. 4, 2008, when 52 percent of Californians voted to change the state constitution to allow the words that define state-sanctioned marriage as something only between a man and a woman, I knew I couldn’t sit on the bench any longer. (Yes, I’m a baseball fan if you can’t tell already.)
I felt disgusted. Not so much that I was denied the right to marry. I’m single, so it wasn’t a pressing issue for me, personally. But I hope one day that if I do find someone special, I will have the chance to get married like many of my friends (and maybe get some of those gifts back after years of attending weddings).
But I really was more disgusted at the idea that people in today’s society still viewed me as some what different. Sure, they say they have nothing against homosexuals and they probably do believe that we’re born the way we are. But despite all they’ve come to understand, they still don’t accept me as someone just like them, somenoe who should have the freedoms and liberties to do what they get to do. And that’s specifically to be married.
Last Friday night, I marched in my first protest in my 45 years of life. Surrounded by thousands of strangers, I felt that I belonged. At least for a moment, I belonged to a community who did believe in love not hate.
(Photo above is me in the middle of the Nov. 7 march in San Francisco.)
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