Today is, for me, profoundly bittersweet: we have a new President whose victory I've wanted for some time, and tens of thousands of Californians have found out that their marriages might be invalidated. California's Proposition 8, which sought to overturn the California Supreme Court's recent ruling giving gay people the same marriage rights as straight people, passed by a relatively narrow margin. The passage of Proposition 8 marks the first time that voters have actually stripped gay people of marriage rights, as opposed to barring them from marrying in the first place -- which the good people of Arizona and Florida did yesterday.
I know several people whose marriages may ultimately be rendered null and void, and my heart goes out to them. It's depressing and frightening to be reminded that so many of your fellow citizens see you as unworthy of the everyday rights and responsibilities that they unthinkingly enjoy.
At the same time, I know that the world won't come to an end. My friends will all remain married in the most meaningful sense of the term; one of them told me this summer that he and his partner saw their wedding ceremony as merely formalizing the commitments they had actually made to each other thirteen years ago. Tens of thousands of other people will go on loving each other, raising their children, and generally living their lives even if their marriage licenses become mere pieces of paper. They'll also keep educating their friends and neighbors about the impact of Proposition 8 on their lives and families (thus generating all kinds of materials -- and prompting creation of all kinds of materials opposing same-sex marriage -- that likely warrant long-term preservation).
If you have to feel deeply sorry for anyone, think about the Arkansas children who may be denied the chance to live in loving homes because the voters just passed a measure barring unmarried couples from becoming foster or adoptive parents; proponents of this measure freely admitted that they were motivated chiefly by anti-gay sentiment.
Disheartening as these losses are, I have to believe that history is on our side. CNN's exit polls (hat tip to Box Turtle Bulletin by way of Andrew Sullivan) indicate that 61 percent of voters aged 18-29 opposed Proposition 8, which is consistent with other polls concerning attitudes toward same-sex marriage, and public policy generally trails public opinion. However, it's not just a matter of demographics. Freedom and equality will ultimately win out. It won't happen without sacrifice or struggle -- as countless abolitionists, suffragists, civil rights activists, feminists, and others would testify -- but it will happen. Within my parents' lifetimes, millions of African-Americans were deliberately and systematically denied the franchise. Last night, an African-American man became President Elect of this nation. The guy has his own has his own issues with same-sex marriage, but he casually and comfortably acknowledges our existence in a way that neither his opponent nor the current President ever has.
Just remember: as Andrew Sullivan points out (how on earth did I miss it?), an initiative that might have jeopardized marriage equality was on the ballot in Connecticut, which will allow same-sex marriage as of November 12. The voters deep-sixed it.
Showing posts with label election 2008. Show all posts
Showing posts with label election 2008. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
About that car magnet . . . .
Journalists are starting to point to Hildebrand Tewes Consulting, the low-key firm that ran Barack Obama's phenomenally effective campaign, as one of last night's unsung victors. I wholeheartedly agree that the campaign was first-rate and that it seemed, from the outside at least, to have been refreshingly devoid of egotism, conflict, and chaos (unlike, apparently, that of New York State's junior senator).
However, there is the small matter of my car magnet. I gave $15.00 to the campaign in September (my first-ever donation to a political campaign), I was promised a car magnet. When I gave another $15.00 to the campaign during the following month, I was again promised a car magnet. I waited and waited, and my car magnet finally arrived in the mail on October 27.
When I got home from work today, another car magnet was waiting in my mailbox. Not exactly a display of fearsome efficiency.
I don't blame Hildebrand Tewes, which no doubt farmed out the car magnet operation to a third party, and I wonder whether the unprecedented number of donations the campaign received this fall caused problems: maybe they ran out of car magnets, or maybe folks living in battleground states got pushed to the head of the car magnet line while everyone living in safe states (New York State was called about one minute after its polls closed) waited.
Hey, at least I've got a pristine magnet with its original envelope. Given the market in political ephemera, I'm planning to hang onto it for a decade or two.
However, there is the small matter of my car magnet. I gave $15.00 to the campaign in September (my first-ever donation to a political campaign), I was promised a car magnet. When I gave another $15.00 to the campaign during the following month, I was again promised a car magnet. I waited and waited, and my car magnet finally arrived in the mail on October 27.
When I got home from work today, another car magnet was waiting in my mailbox. Not exactly a display of fearsome efficiency.
I don't blame Hildebrand Tewes, which no doubt farmed out the car magnet operation to a third party, and I wonder whether the unprecedented number of donations the campaign received this fall caused problems: maybe they ran out of car magnets, or maybe folks living in battleground states got pushed to the head of the car magnet line while everyone living in safe states (New York State was called about one minute after its polls closed) waited.
Hey, at least I've got a pristine magnet with its original envelope. Given the market in political ephemera, I'm planning to hang onto it for a decade or two.
The day after
The election was called a lot more quickly than I initially anticipated. As of yesterday afternoon, I expected that I would be up half the night. However, I started suspecting that things were going my guy's way when the networks started calling Ohio for him. My home state has bitterly disappointed me during the past couple of election cycles, and I was fully prepared for another round of woe. I was rather pleasantly surprised.
I was so keyed up that I couldn't sleep, so I watched McCain's concession speech at the beautiful Arizona Biltmore, which was designed by a student of Frank Lloyd Wright (and which I saw when I was in Phoenix for a PeDALS meeting in January). It was probably the best speech of his campaign--smart, dignified, and funny. It probably reminded a lot of people of why they liked him.
I also watched the Obama rally in Chicago's Grant Park (which I strolled through en route to the Shedd Aquarium when I was at SAA's 2007 annual meeting). The restrained and gracious tone of Obama's speech and the event itself was striking. The campaign could have put on a raucous celebration, and it went for something more satisfying. It was obvious that many people in the audience were in tears, and I have to confess I choked up a bit when I started thinking of the broader significance of his victory.
A story: several years before I was born, my parents took an automobile journey through Virginia's Shenendoah Valley and into what must have been Prince Edward County (my father never mentioned the county by name, but I did a little research). They stopped to get gas at one point, and my dad got out of the car and started chatting with the owner of the gas station, who was white. When my dad commented on the fact that all of the school buses he had seen on the roads were those of "academies," not public schools, the gas station owner told him that the county had shut down all of the public schools because it didn't want to comply with federal desegregation orders and that all of the white children now went to "academies" that used former public school buildings and buses. When my father asked where the county's African-American children went to school, the gas station owner told him that most of them didn't go to school at all. In response to the stunned look on my father's face, the gas station owner said that he had grown up in the North and that he thought that his white neighbors' actions were appalling but that his opinions counted for little in his community.
Approximately forty-five years later, Prince Edward County went for Obama. President-elect Obama's victory shouldn't be taken as a sign that we've finished forming a more perfect union, but we've made some progress. Let's savor the moment, then get back to work.
UPDATE, 19 November 2008: A few days ago, my father, who periodically reads this blog, e-mailed me and let me know that I was a bit fuzzy about more than a few of the details of the Virginia car trip he and my mother took:
I thank my father for the corrections and curse my own frail memory. Warren County went for John McCain in the recent election, but I certainly don't think that most McCain supporters were motivated by bigotry -- or that Barack Obama would have gotten 43% of the vote in Warren County had he run for office in the 1950s or 1960s.
My father is absolutely right that not every white person in Warren County thought that the closing down of the public schools was right or proper, and some of them were less reluctant to make their feelings known: the Library of Virginia has digitized many records relating to the integration of Virginia's schools, including several letters to Governor James Lindsay Almond and other officials urging that Warren County's public schools be re-opened.
I was so keyed up that I couldn't sleep, so I watched McCain's concession speech at the beautiful Arizona Biltmore, which was designed by a student of Frank Lloyd Wright (and which I saw when I was in Phoenix for a PeDALS meeting in January). It was probably the best speech of his campaign--smart, dignified, and funny. It probably reminded a lot of people of why they liked him.
I also watched the Obama rally in Chicago's Grant Park (which I strolled through en route to the Shedd Aquarium when I was at SAA's 2007 annual meeting). The restrained and gracious tone of Obama's speech and the event itself was striking. The campaign could have put on a raucous celebration, and it went for something more satisfying. It was obvious that many people in the audience were in tears, and I have to confess I choked up a bit when I started thinking of the broader significance of his victory.
A story: several years before I was born, my parents took an automobile journey through Virginia's Shenendoah Valley and into what must have been Prince Edward County (my father never mentioned the county by name, but I did a little research). They stopped to get gas at one point, and my dad got out of the car and started chatting with the owner of the gas station, who was white. When my dad commented on the fact that all of the school buses he had seen on the roads were those of "academies," not public schools, the gas station owner told him that the county had shut down all of the public schools because it didn't want to comply with federal desegregation orders and that all of the white children now went to "academies" that used former public school buildings and buses. When my father asked where the county's African-American children went to school, the gas station owner told him that most of them didn't go to school at all. In response to the stunned look on my father's face, the gas station owner said that he had grown up in the North and that he thought that his white neighbors' actions were appalling but that his opinions counted for little in his community.
Approximately forty-five years later, Prince Edward County went for Obama. President-elect Obama's victory shouldn't be taken as a sign that we've finished forming a more perfect union, but we've made some progress. Let's savor the moment, then get back to work.
UPDATE, 19 November 2008: A few days ago, my father, who periodically reads this blog, e-mailed me and let me know that I was a bit fuzzy about more than a few of the details of the Virginia car trip he and my mother took:
. . . Our experience did not occur in Prince Edward County but at a motel in Front Royal which is located in Warren County. I believe that school districts in Virginia operate on a county basis (as in West Virginia). We saw about 3 buses that had "John S. Mosby Academy" plus a huge Confederate flag painted on each side and the rear. I presume that you know that Mosby was a Conferate Army officer who operated primarily behind Union lines in Virginia. Per a court order, the academy was forbidden to use school buildings, so classes were held in the local churches (that was real Christian action on their part). I don't remember discussing ownership of the buses. The motel owner asked me to abstain from mentioning his views on integration to the locals. I read a book entitled "They Closed Their Schools" re: Prince Edward County, Virginia. As I recall, not all blacks were in favor of integration and not all whites favored segregration.
I thank my father for the corrections and curse my own frail memory. Warren County went for John McCain in the recent election, but I certainly don't think that most McCain supporters were motivated by bigotry -- or that Barack Obama would have gotten 43% of the vote in Warren County had he run for office in the 1950s or 1960s.
My father is absolutely right that not every white person in Warren County thought that the closing down of the public schools was right or proper, and some of them were less reluctant to make their feelings known: the Library of Virginia has digitized many records relating to the integration of Virginia's schools, including several letters to Governor James Lindsay Almond and other officials urging that Warren County's public schools be re-opened.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Doing my civic duty
I went to the polls at around 6:00 PM tonight, and was happy to find a long line of people waiting to cast their votes. I usually vote at around 7:30 or 8:00 PM (polls close in New York State at 9:00 PM), and I'm typically the 170th-190th person in my election district to cast a ballot. This year, I was the 389th person, and the 400th person showed up around ten minutes after I got there. During slow periods, the poll workers would look up from their forms, survey the lines, and grin from ear to ear.
Everyone (with the exception of the impatient couple behind me) seemed to be in a really good mood. I always enjoy seeing parents bring their kids into the voting booth with them, but tonight there were a lot more kids than usual; most of my neighbors are African-American, and it was pretty evident that parents wanted their children to see history being made.
There were also a lot of first-time voters, which definitely slowed down the line a bit: the poll workers had to give people a crash course in using New York State's old-school lever machines. There were also a couple of people who apparently imbibed a little Election Day cheer before casting their ballots, and they might have taken a little longer than they might have otherwise.
Right now, I'm just glad that I was able to vote and that many, many other Americans have gotten the same opportunity; there have been some dismaying stories about machine breakdowns, the conduct of local officials, and other problems, but they seem to be the exception, not the rule. Now that the polls are closing in a number of states, I'm going to start watching as the returns come in . . . .
Everyone (with the exception of the impatient couple behind me) seemed to be in a really good mood. I always enjoy seeing parents bring their kids into the voting booth with them, but tonight there were a lot more kids than usual; most of my neighbors are African-American, and it was pretty evident that parents wanted their children to see history being made.
There were also a lot of first-time voters, which definitely slowed down the line a bit: the poll workers had to give people a crash course in using New York State's old-school lever machines. There were also a couple of people who apparently imbibed a little Election Day cheer before casting their ballots, and they might have taken a little longer than they might have otherwise.
Right now, I'm just glad that I was able to vote and that many, many other Americans have gotten the same opportunity; there have been some dismaying stories about machine breakdowns, the conduct of local officials, and other problems, but they seem to be the exception, not the rule. Now that the polls are closing in a number of states, I'm going to start watching as the returns come in . . . .
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