In Massachusetts, some advocates of same-sex marriage are asking whether the cost of progress may be too high.
Mar 3, 2004 | Diane Palladino and her partner, Ellen Koteen, live in the Pioneer Valley of Western Massachusetts. The valley includes the towns of Amherst and Northampton, and is known for its five liberal colleges. The National Enquirer once called it "Lesbianville, U.S.A." It would be an understatement to say that right-wing talk radio is not much of a factor in local politics.
Palladino and Koteen have been on the forefront of the culture wars for much of their 24-year relationship. Both have been organizers for feminist causes, like Koteen's past directorship of the Lesbian Education and Health project. And like thousands of valley residents, they were thrilled when the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court ruled last month that same-sex couples in the state are entitled to the same marriage rights as heterosexual couples. Under the court order, same-sex marriages will become legal on May 17, and they plan to be married soon after.
Still, despite the pervasive sense of joy here, they share something else with many Massachusetts gay-rights advocates: a nagging uneasiness.
The court's decision, and the decision of San Francisco Mayor Gavin Newsom to permit gay marriages, have been historic moments of liberation. But now the backlash is taking form, and some see the possibility that the civil rights victory could have a deep downside. In Massachusetts, the Legislature next week is scheduled to consider two state constitutional amendments that would withdraw marriage rights. Koteen called those amendments "frightening."
Nationally, President George W. Bush has proposed a federal constitutional amendment that could take same-sex marriage off the table for years, or generations. Some wonder whether gay marriage will be Sen. John Kerry's Willie Horton issue. One gay Boston resident explains his fears: "I'm afraid that the gay card will be thrown out there, and that in a close election, that could be enough to scare the general population into reelecting Bush, and taking us away from much greater problems that we really should be focusing on."
To this man and others, the same-sex marriage victory in Massachusetts will not necessarily have been worth the fight if it gives the world four more years of a Bush administration. "I'm more than just a gay man," he says. "I have education interests, social interests beyond the gay world, international concerns. I have environmental concerns. On the whole spectrum of my being, I want to see him defeated."
It's a fear that much of the queer community would rather not address. It's politically messy. It's emotionally messy. Even among those who acknowledge the risks of a backlash, few would be willing to say that too much is happening too fast, and that same-sex marriage is a concept that should be delayed. The issue is so sensitive, in fact, that several people interviewed for this story would acknowledge their concerns only anonymously.
"When you're under siege," says one Boston woman, "you don't want to give ammunition to the enemy."
At this time last year, few could have imagined the current political landscape. The case of Goodridge vs. the Department of Public Health was before Massachusetts' high court. And a decision granting marriage rights to same-sex couples was far from a sure thing.
"The decision was due out in July," Koteen says. "Everyone was expecting it in July, so as the months dragged on, there was a lot of anxiety and tension about what does this mean. People involved in it were pretty optimistic -- they felt that the arguments went well. But it's still a shock to the system when it went in our favor ... all of a sudden, feeling like first-class citizens."
In fact, the court's narrow majority ruled in November that existing law left gay and lesbian couples as second-class citizens. The state's ban against same-sex marriage violated guarantees of equality and due process in the state constitution, the court ruled, and it imposed "a deep and scarring hardship on a very real segment of the community for no rational reason." The court ordered the Legislature to review state law in light of the decision; after the Legislature passed a law allowing same-sex couples to join in civil unions, the high court issued its monumental ruling last month: Civil unions didn't go far enough.
While Massachusetts has a reputation nationally for its progressive outlook, not all of the state is like Northampton, Jamaica Plain, Somerville and Provincetown -- the traditionally gay neighborhoods and towns. Even though Massachusetts is the land of an eternally elected Ted Kennedy, it's also the place where Republican Mitt Romney became governor.
Mark Carmien lives in Northampton, where he owns Pride & Joy, a gay-themed bookstore. He speaks in a soft, reassuring voice. He's pragmatic about the gay community's concerns.
For some, "there's a feeling of wariness," Carmien says. "It appears that we've won this battle. But the fear is that our Mormon, conservative, Republican governor and our highly conservative speaker of the house [Thomas M. Finneran] will cause a constitutional crisis. This is what we're starting to believe -- that one or both of them will issue an executive order that city clerks are not to allow marriage licenses come May 17.
"Even though the Massachusetts Supreme Court has ruled on this, even though they have affirmed what they mean is marriage, not civil unions, on May 17 -- the 50th anniversary of Brown vs. Board of Education, the landmark desegregation ruling -- Romney is going to be the George Wallace of the new millennium, standing on the steps of City Hall, saying 'segregation now, segregation always.'"
With eight months left until the election, the timing of the debate is less than ideal for John Kerry, a longtime ally of the gay and lesbian community and now the presumed Democratic presidential nominee. While those opposed to same-sex marriage are unequivocal in their position, Kerry is in a tight box. He can't strongly endorse the idea for fear of political repercussions. For the same reason, he can't strongly oppose the idea.
He voted against President Bill Clinton's Defense of Marriage Act in 1996, one of few in the Senate to do so, and he has firmly opposed Bush's proposal to amend the U.S. Constitution. But he has also endorsed the notion that marriage is for a man and a woman only. Last month, he said he would support a Massachusetts amendment that bars same-sex marriage -- provided that it allows civil unions that give same-sex couples all the rights of marriage.
Gay groups express frustration at Kerry's position, but his strong past support of gay causes isn't likely to win him the hearts of conservatives either. Republicans are doing their best to manipulate the issue, a useful diversion in a time when the front-page stories had been about Bush's war record, the unemployment rate and the ongoing body count in Iraq.
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