Hope alone


“Dan White Hero”

Originally uploaded by cawins

I was in the NCLR overflow room helping to Twitter about the oral argument challenging Prop 8 on Thursday. I have some thoughts about online vs. offline activism and the socialization of the court that are far from fully developed and I’ll save for later, but first I wanted to do my little part to spread my current delusion.

My friends, champions who have been working around the clock for marriage rights for all, are tired and disappointed that the situation does not look good for actually overturning Proposition 8. I know that’s the general consensus. I was thrown into a dark place when I had to step around “Yes on 8” people when I took my daughter to school. That was a bad day, and I know hate features much more than hope in the word-cloud surrounding the event. And thanks to cawins for Flickring the picture on this post and to Dianna for blogging more of the reality of these truly disturbing images.

But I am hopeful …? I must be delusional, naive, and sick.

Probably all that, and this: Because Tony Wilson said this to me on my way to the oral argument Thursday morning:

@moyalynne Saw the marches this morning and it makes me proud to know you. You’re making the future better for our sons & daughters. GO!!

Because Kate Kendell said this:

My kids understand, sometimes even better than I do, what’s real in life and what really matters. We have to reflect that hope back to them, and the belief in what is ultimately possible.

And because I only know these wonderful people and so many more because of this fight — in the first place.

Today I choose hope over hatred or hurt exactly because this choice matters — words matter — and you don’t need to be on one side or another to know that. I will probably need you to remind me of this tomorrow or the next day and maybe the next and particularly on that day sometime within 88 days from now, when the court rules. But not today — today I feel the tiny pinprick to my heart, the very tip of the long tail, wagging the dog.

And because in the end, I was there at the doors of the Supreme Court that day last year on which they decided that words *do* matter, and for a few (all-too-short) months, everybody knew exactly what that meant. Let me fight for my life when I start to forget this again. And I will forget – but at this moment I think that if I look, you will be there for me.

PS: To support hope, consider a gift: http://bit.ly/SupportNCLR

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unmarried

injusticeunmarried

six months ago tomorrow we were married in san francisco. yesterday, thanks to the california supreme court, we were unmarried. our baby girl is due to arrive in just over a week. our lawyer told us to run, not walk, down to register as domestic partners should our marriages become invalidated. we spent an excruciating and ultimately fruitless few hours today, nearly as much time as we spent getting married that valentine’s day, trying to second-class our union by registering as domestic partners. if you feel supportive, read the whole bloody sad tale below. if you do not, you’re not welcome on this page.

first, we consulted the secretary of state’s web site to learn how to become domestic partners. there’s a PDF to download at that link which needs to notarized and then you can take it to one of the regional offices to expedite your registration. sounds easy, if not unceremonious. but there’s a really funny, sad thing about that last page. yesterday, i copied the following words from that page into an email to leanne:


Checks, money orders, cash or credit cards (Visa or MasterCard) are accepted at the San Francisco regional office

today, i notice a change, with the following paragraph appearing instead (could it be that someone complained at the office today that the web site was wrong?):


Fees collected at the regional office locations may be made by check, money order or credit card (Visa or Mastercard). Cash will not be accepted at these locations.

actually, i can provide even more crucial information: apparently, you can’t file something via credit card either — you have to use a check. but i’m getting hours ahead of myself.

we left home around 11a with our form and set out to 601 van ness, where according to my research the UPS store, only two blocks from the state building, has a notary. i briefly deliberated with leanne about taking muni, since i’m 39 weeks pregnant, and i forgot to bring a bottle of water. but it was a nice day for a walk… and you can always buy water. we walked by city hall and both of us remembered waiting in line for five hours six months ago, which we were happy to do on that special day. we got to the UPS store around 11:30-ish. apparently, we had just missed the notary though, and they wouldn’t be back for another 45 minutes.

i was conscious leanne still had work to do today and i was already a little tired and disappointed, but we managed to find a workaround by calling the secretary of state and asking for the next closest notary. we simply had to go to room 168 back in city hall for notary services, the person told us.

we didn’t remember until we got there that room 168 was the room in which we started our official marriage procedure six months ago. we weren’t prepared for how emotional we felt when we saw men and women dressed up in tuxedos and bridal gowns on their wedding day. we also struck out with the notarization: the don’t have a notary at room 168 in city hall anymore. write that down.

by now i was a little more exhausted, and starting to withdraw. but we only had to go across the street to the courthouse, floor 2, to get our form notarized! so the end was approaching…

it was noon by the time we got up to floor two: the notary services at the courthouse close at 11:30, until 2p.

i felt thirsty and dizzy and we both wanted to cry. we decided to call the UPS store to find out if their notary had returned. in a half hour, we were told. so we walked back to 601 van ness and got me some water (actually, i forgot to get water i was so tired by then) and whiled away a half hour at opera plaza and in a clean well lighted place for books. i was tired of standing and walking, but i could perch on a bench over the cookbooks…

by one pm it was more than a half hour later, so we went back to the UPS store. no notary: well, he’s off at immigration or something — but he should be back by two! note to selves: shouldn’t they have told us that before? i was trying not to get discouraged but it was too late. we were trying to downgrade our relationship and our family, and even at that, all the doors were closing on us this friday the 13th.

leanne called elizabeth who searched the web for the next closest notary. up on post street, a half mile away. i was tripping over my feet by now, so we opted for muni up the street. as joyous as muni always is. crowded and dangerous for the balance-impaired. but within another half hour or so we were ultimately successful and happy that we surreptitiously found a gay notary waiting for us in his office, happy to help. we felt a little better… i decided that, with a doughnut, i could walk back down to the state building where we would ultimately get the registration done at last.

in the state building, there are two sets of elevators separated by the lobby. one goes up to the first half of the floors, and one goes up to the second half. we got in the wrong one at first — then got in the right one for the 14th floor. with my bladder the size of a pea, of course i had to pee. by the time we got to the 14th floor, we looked for the restroom but a woman told us the public restrooms were on the second floor – we’d have to go back all the way on the second elevator and up the first one – and i was so tired that i protested and said ‘at 9 months pregnant and paying for this building with my CA taxes, i should be able to use your restrooms on this floor’ — she seemed to imply this was a real hassle at the same time some guy walked up who seemed more offering to easily unlock a restroom for me — but i was already down the hall ready to get the whole bloody thing over with.

kevin shelley’s secretary of state office waiting room is a stinky, unceremonious, crowded, plain waiting room. not a great place for a happy downgrading of the union of a relationship. there were five people in line ahead of us standing and sitting in stale air doing various corporate things at the window (i think the title of the door has to do with corporations – a fine place to register a relationship, right?). we managed to commandeer a couch and i attempted to breathe and subvert my bladder for the next half hour or so while the line virtually stood still.

when the line started to move again, i heard someone be told that cash was not accepted. having researched the web site in advance, we had purposely left our checkbooks at home, but we also had credit cards. i launched up past the waiting line to the window to verify what i had just heard: indeed, no cash taken, but credit cards are ok — ok, i thought. we are safe. the woman tried to call me back, but i couldn’t hoist me and the girl and the bladder back up out of the couch again. leanne went for the final, tragic news. if you are FILING something, you have to have a check – credit cards aren’t accepted either.

we were tired. we had spent over three hours running around when all i wanted to be doing was lying on my left side. we were turned away from three different notaries, four different times, and persevered, yet at the last possible mile we couldn’t make it after all. this was too much to bear in the end, given that what we were trying to do was officially downgrade our relationship and any legal rights just before our baby’s born. i guess we’ll have to try again on monday.

the fog is back

the fog is back

we sweltered for a couple of days last week, but the fog rolled back in during the dyke march on saturday night. this morning, san francisco remains comforted by its white blanket, soothing what surely remains of the weekend’s pride hangover.

there was a lot to celebrate, with the texas ruling. however, it sets the stage for plenty of people to be even meaner. gays, the “gay lifestyle”, and the “homosexual agenda” are set to grow into a large topic for the 2004 election. good.

leanne and i, since we’re both good project managers, were trying to figure out what the “gay agenda” would actually consist of.

  1. introductions: 20 years
  2. issues: 30 years
    1. deaths
    2. discrimination
    3. violence
  3. living with dignity: 3 years
    1. ‘domestic partnership’
    2. religion by choice
    3. battling antiquated law (supreme court)
  4. action items: indefinite
    1. run away to canada

…or something like that. it definitely needs work (as does the html for the nested ordered lists above).

oh and ps: an apology to the six of the nine justices of the supreme court (souter and the rest, you know who you are) (who are most certainly reading this as we speak!) for implying below that there would be a cowardly delay. you were most certainly not acting cowardly, after all, last week.

morals

morals

to otsu, not to otzu. i needed to correct my template because i had spelled otsu wrong, which gives me a chance to say that if you follow it at the links section to the right, you’ll find a place i’ve been visiting with semi-regularity lately. i have my special v shoes and have gone on an additional rampage for non-leather cowboy boots again, this time in their direction. now before anyone thinks i’m morally complete or particularly vegan, you will want to stop. there’s nothing like leather for those ol’ shit-kicking cowboy boots; or is there?

even if i were morally incomplete, should that keep me from moralizing? too bad about the supreme court yesterday. perhaps the affirmative action thing was enough drama for one day, but i learned a thing or two from THIS obedience on saturday. if you want to take wind from sails, deflate a movement for positive change, and continue to send messages of intolerance, you postpone a decision. perhaps there will be a different story later in the week…

< / morals >