Sheila Kennedy

In my most recent column for the Indianapolis Star, I reported on our city’s Pride celebration, and pointed to the immense progress that has been made since I began attending such events in 1992. As I put it,

“The crowd was huge, and broadly representative of the diversity of the gay community and those of us who support them. There were young people pushing strollers, old folks like us, and parents with teens. We saw doctors, lawyers and bankers—people who would have been terrified to attend seventeen years ago, when being “out” might mean losing a job—or worse, a family.

Today, when a quarter of the country’s population lives in states that recognize same-sex marriage or its functional equivalent, when polls show that people under thirty support gay civil rights by huge margins, the mood at events like Pride is less defiant and much more celebratory.”

All true. But when you are building a road to a desired destination, it is sometimes necessary to erect appropriate caution signs.

When I first got involved in activism on behalf of equal rights for the GLBT community, much of the community’s political outreach was—let me be kind here—dysfunctional. Most of the reasons for the personal agendas and petty backbiting were understandable, albeit terribly unhelpful, and not much different than behaviors exhibited by people in any marginalized community. (Fights over crumbs, for some reason, tend to be more vicious.) Other behaviors seemed more specific to the gay community.

It is, let’s be honest, a community with many very wounded people. One reason for that, I think, is that while other minority groups may be despised and subjected to discrimination, children in those groups at least grow up with role models. When I grew up Jewish in a small, non-too-tolerant Indiana town, I looked to my parents for clues about what it meant to be Jewish, and for positive reinforcement of my human value. Gays growing up in repressive communities have until very recently had no such models. As a consequence, a lot of GLBT youngsters grow into very needy adults—and needy adults seldom make good movement soldiers. They have trouble subordinating their personal agendas to the needs of the community.

The considerable progress that has been made over the past two decades is largely the result of a recognition of that reality by the gay community. In a very real way, and for a multitude of reasons, the activists in the community grew up. Ostensible disputes over strategy morphed into genuine disputes over strategy, rather than thinly veiled efforts to be important. It was an important turning point that made much of the subsequent progress possible.

So why am I saying we need to erect a “Caution” sign? Because here and there, there is evidence that some of the old dysfunction is resurfacing.

Look at what happened in California. If we are honest, the fight over Proposition 8 was the community’s to lose. Yes, the Mormon Church and others put up a lot of money, but as late as mid-October, polls showed that “No on Prop 8” was winning by a comfortable margin. But as the people involved readily admit, the discord and squabbling among the various gay rights groups charged with defeating Prop 8 got in the way of effective political action.

More recently, there have been some very unseemly charges and counter-charges echoing through gay cyberspace over action and inaction by the Obama administration. Disappointment is understandable, disagreement inevitable, but the shrillness of some of the arguments and accusations has been distinctly unhelpful.

Even in my local community, there have been persistent efforts by some bloggers to mischaracterize and undermine Indiana Equality, a coalition of gay advocacy organizations that has been very effective in bringing different perspectives to the table and advancing the cause of gay equality. (Indiana is one of the very few “bible buckle” states that did not pass a constitutional amendment prohibiting same-sex marriage; preventing that passage wasn’t just luck. As someone who was privy to some of the strategic decisions involved, I can attest that it took a lot of hard work by a lot of savvy people.)

Let me be clear about what I am saying, and what I am not saying. I am absolutely not suggesting that people who disagree with a position or a strategy shut up and go away. Civil disagreement and argumentation are always appropriate. The best decisions are made when different points of view are aired and a broad array of interests is at the table.

What I am saying is the obvious: there is constructive criticism and then there is bitching—and efforts to undermine those with whom you disagree, even when it makes achieving common goals more difficult.

There was a lot of that bitching and backbiting seventeen years ago. To regress to it now, when so much progress has been made, would be tragic.

In my most recent column for the Indianapolis Star, I reported on our city’s Pride celebration, and pointed to the immense progress that has been made since I began attending such events in 1992. As I put it,

“The crowd was huge, and broadly representative of the diversity of the gay community and those of us who support them. There were young people pushing strollers, old folks like us, and parents with teens. We saw doctors, lawyers and bankers—people who would have been terrified to attend seventeen years ago, when being “out” might mean losing a job—or worse, a family.

Today, when a quarter of the country’s population lives in states that recognize same-sex marriage or its functional equivalent, when polls show that people under thirty support gay civil rights by huge margins, the mood at events like Pride is less defiant and much more celebratory.”

All true. But when you are building a road to a desired destination, it is sometimes necessary to erect appropriate caution signs.

When I first got involved in activism on behalf of equal rights for the GLBT community, much of the community’s political outreach was—let me be kind here—dysfunctional. Most of the reasons for the personal agendas and petty backbiting were understandable, albeit terribly unhelpful, and not much different than behaviors exhibited by people in any marginalized community. (Fights over crumbs, for some reason, tend to be more vicious.) Other behaviors seemed more specific to the gay community.

It is, let’s be honest, a community with many very wounded people. One reason for that, I think, is that while other minority groups may be despised and subjected to discrimination, children in those groups at least grow up with role models. When I grew up Jewish in a small, non-too-tolerant Indiana town, I looked to my parents for clues about what it meant to be Jewish, and for positive reinforcement of my human value. Gays growing up in repressive communities have until very recently had no such models. As a consequence, a lot of GLBT youngsters grow into very needy adults—and needy adults seldom make good movement soldiers. They have trouble subordinating their personal agendas to the needs of the community.

The considerable progress that has been made over the past two decades is largely the result of a recognition of that reality by the gay community. In a very real way, and for a multitude of reasons, the activists in the community grew up. Ostensible disputes over strategy morphed into genuine disputes over strategy, rather than thinly veiled efforts to be important. It was an important turning point that made much of the subsequent progress possible.

So why am I saying we need to erect a “Caution” sign? Because here and there, there is evidence that some of the old dysfunction is resurfacing.

Look at what happened in California. If we are honest, the fight over Proposition 8 was the community’s to lose. Yes, the Mormon Church and others put up a lot of money, but as late as mid-October, polls showed that “No on Prop 8” was winning by a comfortable margin. But as the people involved readily admit, the discord and squabbling among the various gay rights groups charged with defeating Prop 8 got in the way of effective political action.

More recently, there have been some very unseemly charges and counter-charges echoing through gay cyberspace over action and inaction by the Obama administration. Disappointment is understandable, disagreement inevitable, but the shrillness of some of the arguments and accusations has been distinctly unhelpful.

Even in my local community, there have been persistent efforts by some bloggers to mischaracterize and undermine Indiana Equality, a coalition of gay advocacy organizations that has been very effective in bringing different perspectives to the table and advancing the cause of gay equality. (Indiana is one of the very few “bible buckle” states that did not pass a constitutional amendment prohibiting same-sex marriage; preventing that passage wasn’t just luck. As someone who was privy to some of the strategic decisions involved, I can attest that it took a lot of hard work by a lot of savvy people.)

Let me be clear about what I am saying, and what I am not saying. I am absolutely not suggesting that people who disagree with a position or a strategy shut up and go away. Civil disagreement and argumentation are always appropriate. The best decisions are made when different points of view are aired and a broad array of interests is at the table.

What I am saying is the obvious: there is constructive criticism and then there is bitching—and efforts to undermine those with whom you disagree, even when it makes achieving common goals more difficult.

There was a lot of that bitching and backbiting seventeen years ago. To regress to it now, when so much progress has been made, would be tragic.