askthegaylatino

The darkness of the D.C. Jewish Community Center’s theater hid my wet cheeks. As emotional as I tend to be, this was the first time a film brought tears to my eyes.
The Victory Fund invited blogger initiative attendees to a screening of Milk, based on the life of San Francisco Supervisor Harvey Milk.
Perhaps the tears came from the sensual scenes between Harvey Milk (Sean Penn) and partner Scott Smith (James Franco) that reminded me that my capacity to love a partner stood beyond a casual sex encounter, and thus merited recognition.
Maybe it was the parallels with the struggles Californians face these days and the knowledge that I was part of a historic mark that propelled my silent sob that night.
In the days and weeks that preceded and followed the Nov. 4 election, I found myself having to explain the simple basis of my struggle. Despite my cynical jests about how the money spent on gay-weddings and subsequent gay-divorces might save our thread-held economy, everyone should have that basic right.
Whether a successful marriage exists in a society with a high percentage of divorces, whether gender defines a marriage or theology shuns same-sex relationships, denying a group the opportunity to stand on equal grounds with other taxpayers and social contributors is simply wrong.
For me, words on a piece of paper do not define a commitment in a relationship but it does allow the legal rights and responsibilities that all families should be afforded.
I long for the ability to claim my share of responsibilities that come with marriage, as well as my rights, noting that my relationship is as valid as my heterosexual brothers and sisters.
I’ve often discounted the notion that Latinos have a greater value for family as stereotypical. Yet, when tragedy strikes a member of our clan, the love of my familia stands united.
Ironically, even a family whose hetero-ethnic marriages can be compared to an embodiment of the United Nations often fails to see the correlation with Civil Rights.
Recently, when my aunt was diagnosed with senior dementia and Alzheimer’s, my sisters and I made a silent pact with my cousins. We wouldn’t let her become an abandoned senior and we’d try to visit her more often.
In the aftermath of Proposition 8 protestors took to the streets in several cities. The road blockage created by our demonstrations curtailed a visit or two to the home where my aunt receives care.
A week later, during our usual ritualistic cup of coffee — a tool we use for discourse —my sisters complained that the marches were an inconvenience and imposition of beliefs on the rest of the population. But just as the Civil Rights Movement of the 60s also inconvenienced many people with their marches, boycotts and other protests, there is more to these demonstrations than simple whining.
There is more to the angry protestors than just being a capricious group with issues. Fighting for marriage equality is about fighting for our families, our lives and the1100-plus rights and responsibilities that my heterosexual brothers and sisters already possess.

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