Recently I had a dream that both helped prepared me for being a lesbian mama and moved me to tears. Before I share the dream, let me back up just a tiny bit.
The last few months, Basic Right’s Oregon (also known as BRO) has been on a fierce crusade to make marriage legal for same sex couples. Gina and I have been part of the commercials that were shown locally and nationally in effort to raise money, raise awareness and shift swing voters.
Yesterday evening, Gina shared with me an experience she’d had over lunch that day. She was with a colleague who is a Christian. This colleague, we’ll call her Julie. Julie loves Gina but made it clear she would “… NEVER support gay marriage.” She prays for Gina daily. Julie brought up the conversation so Gina took the invitation to share her own opinion on the matter.
Gina said this:
“Julie, I am a flag-displaying, America-loving, willing-to-pick-up-arms-to-outside-invaders, proud American who loves her country. But I often feel I am not loved back by my country. I am a citizen who is expected to fulfill all the responsibilities of citizenship but not deemed worthy as receiving all of its rights. I envision a country where no one person’s moral belief can dominate another person’s moral belief. I dream of that. For now, how it is, makes me sad. Just really sad.”
I was so proud of Gina in the moment she shared this with me I grabbed her face on both sides, pulled her toward me, and kissed her on the lips. With tears in my eyes I looked in hers and said, “Thank you.” Thank you for speaking up, for being courageous and for taking on such a large political issue with such personal love and grace. One person at a time. Does a revolution happen any other way?
We cuddled up a while and I fell asleep on her shoulder. That’s when I had the dream.
I dreamt that I put a post on facebook that read: “Had a nightmare last night: dreamt that MY religion kept YOU a second-class citizen; paying taxes and dying for your country but no equal rights.” Then I woke up (in my dream still) and realized, Wait, that’s me. That’s no nightmare/dream, that’s MY reality. That IS my life.
Still in the dream, the next thing I know I’m sobbing; shoulders collapsed and head down. A tall, black man is behind me hugging me, wrapping his arms all the way around me like a shield of love. He whispers in my ear, “I know. It’s okay. It’s going to be alright. The time will come.” I tell him that I’d read a book called the The Help that put in me the world of blacks being second-class citizens and I thought I had empathy then. That I’d been watching all these MLK biographies and witnessing the grotesque, violent assaults of people sitting in peaceful protests and while it hurt my heart immensely, only now do I really see what it is to be seen as “less than” by the majority of America and not be granted equal rights.
I told him that looking back in history, one thing I never could understand was how people who were forced to be segregated, beaten and enslaved could go on living their lives and being happy in their homes, parks, dance clubs, etc. How come they weren’t just enraged all the time? Then it occurred to me, that’s us Queers today.
While it’s not entirely the same, of course, the premise is. I am going about living my happy life with my happy friends and happy wife in an amazing community all the while underneath it all is a fact that can’t be ignored: we are second-class citizens in a state and country we give our hearts to. Some people love us but hate our sin and pray for our salvation (not our friends and families of course). Some people, who make laws, don’t even love us and simply want to punish us; at the very least deny us our basic civil rights. There are so many big and little indignities that we don’t think of until they are in front of our face; like renting a car, buying insurances, emergency and disaster situations, not to mention comments and looks (which surprisingly still happen in Portland and worse when we travel) and most importantly, having children where both mamas are not seen as legal guardians (leaving the child in danger should the one legal guardian perish, which there are ways around but of course, they cost lots of money leading to more fiscal punishment and inequality). See… not so different than MLK’s revolution, right?
In my dream, the man held me tighter and whispered in my ear again. This time, “Living your happy life IS your peaceful protest. Keep living. Keep being happy. Have your babies and your family. The time will come. The time is coming.”
The next morning Pema came over and I told her the dream. When I did, I choked up. Moved to tears again by the power of this seemingly small moment in time that changed me profoundly. I have always been an activist, particularly in my younger years driving my family and those around me crazy. My work for social justice and change has become less radical and more mainstream as I’ve aged. In fact, I thought of myself as falling more silent. Today, however, after that dream, my heart is moved and something changed in me. While I got this in my head before, I get it even more deeply now– that by living the life I live, being happily married and becoming happy mothers, I AM, we ARE being radical. And, I’m certain, that (not by accident) but because of this, our time will come.
One Response to I Had a Dream