Just in time for spring wedding season, gay marriage activists
are celebrating a triumphant few weeks. Last Tuesday, the Vermont
legislature effectively legalized same-sex unions in that state.
Days earlier, the Iowa Supreme Court had ruled that a statute
barring gay marriage was unconstitutional. And here in the nation's
capital, the D.C. Council voted unanimously to recognize same-sex
marriages performed elsewhere.
But amid all the history being made, one gay rights organization
did something really historic: It announced that it would shut its
doors at the end of the year, because its mission was complete.
Formed in 1999 to lobby for the right of gay couples to adopt
children in Connecticut, Love Makes a Family was the lead
organization advocating for same-sex marriage in that state. It
successfully lobbied lawmakers to pass a civil unions bill in 2005,
but fell short of achieving its ultimate goal until last October,
when the state supreme court ruled that the Connecticut
constitution endows same-sex couples with the right to marry.
"Mission accomplished" is one of the most difficult things to
say when your organization depends on working toward a cause, but
Love Makes a Family did it. And other gay groups may soon need to
follow suit. If the gay community truly wants to achieve equality,
it will have to overcome a victim mindset that is slowly becoming
obsolete.
After the thrill of the October ruling in Connecticut, Love
Makes a Family executive director Anne Stanback said that she and
her staff took stock of where the organization stood: They
conducted surveys, focus groups and interviews with supporters and
donors. No one really knew where to go from there. "There was no
clear consensus about what our mission should be," she says. So she
and her colleagues decided to shift course, writing in an open
letter released April 1: "We have accomplished our mission, and now
we want to conclude our work on a high note." The organization's
political action committee will continue to raise funds and support
candidates, but as of Dec. 31, Love Makes a Family's lobbying and
educational divisions will become inoperative.
Contrast the decision of Love Makes a Family with that of
MassEquality, a Massachusetts organization that won equal marriage
rights through a state supreme court decision in 2003. It fought
off successive attempts to repeal that ruling, a battle that ended
conclusively in 2007 when legislators blocked an effort to put a
constitutional amendment banning same-sex marriage on the ballot.
Massachusetts' gay citizens are now equal under state law in every
way, which would seem to undermine the organization's eponymous
raison d'etre. Yet MassEquality continues to operate and raises
money that could be directed to gay rights organizations fighting
more pressing battles in other parts of the country. Today, its
agenda has less to do with supporting gay rights than it does with
lobbying the state government to pour more money into pre-existing,
already generously funded programs such as anti-bullying measures,
senior services and others.
Once the goals of an organization with a specific mission are
achieved, as Love Makes a Family's were last October, it should
relish its victory, cease operations and move on. This is the sign
of communal maturity. The continued operation of a gay rights
organization in the state that was the first to institute marriage
equality and that has the most progressive gay rights laws in the
country reflects a sense of eternal victimhood.
Of course, gay rights are not just about the right to adopt
children or the right to marry. There remain the ongoing campaigns
to end the military's discriminatory "don't ask, don't tell" policy
and to pass the Employment Non-Discrimination Act, which would make
it illegal to fire someone on the grounds of sexual orientation.
But given the overwhelming support for these moves among younger
Americans, these victories are not far off, and gay rights
organizations should start facing the prospect that in the near
future, their missions will be superfluous.
This is a realization that comes easier to younger gays like me
(I'm 25) than to older ones. For people who grew up in a time when
being open about one's homosexuality could result in being fired or
thrown into prison, it's harder to move out of a mindset that sees
the plight of gay people as one of perpetual struggle. This
attitude is all the more pronounced in those who hold leadership
positions in the gay rights movement, as their life's work depends
upon the notion that we are always and everywhere oppressed.
It's in the culture of any institution to justify its existence.
This is especially so with civil rights groups, which thrive on a
sense of persecution, real or perceived. Take the Gay & Lesbian
Alliance Against Defamation, for instance. GLAAD was established in
the mid-1980s, when, as its Web site correctly states,
"representations of lesbians and gay men tended to fall into one of
two categories: defamatory or non-existent." The situation today,
however, is dramatically improved, as gays have essentially won the
fight over popular culture. Countless television shows and movies
feature positive portrayals of gay characters, and it's a career
faux pas for people in the entertainment industry to say anything
that could be remotely construed as hostile to gays (see what
happened to superagent Michael Ovitz when he alleged that a "gay
mafia" ran Hollywood).
Rather than rest on its laurels, however, GLAAD raises millions
of dollars from media companies and wealthy donors to subsidize a
bloated national staff. Its work seems to consist of little more
than issuing hypersensitive press releases complaining about
purportedly anti-gay content in television commercials and throwing
extravagant parties to honor straight celebrities for talking about
their gay friends. Far from demonstrating the increasing political
power of the gay community and the acceptance it has won, GLAAD is
the epitome of neediness and vulnerability.
Gay civil rights groups have a tendency to minimize victories
and exaggerate threats. When President Obama chose the Rev. Rick
Warren to deliver the invocation at his inauguration, those groups
complained loudly. Although Warren had campaigned in favor of
Proposition 8, the California measure banning same-sex marriage,
the decision to include him in a purely ceremonial position
signaled no change in administration policy on gay rights.
Nevertheless, his mere reading of a two-minute prayer drove gay
organizations apoplectic. After all, bogeymen like Warren help with
fundraising appeals.
Of course, the passage of Proposition 8 last fall highlights the
fact that the struggle today remains real and that love only makes
a family within clearly defined state borders. There is still
important work to be done nationwide, and none of this is to
downplay the daily efforts put forth by gay organizations in
socially conservative parts of the country. But if the ultimate
goal of the movement is to achieve equality for homosexuals, then
those leading it should appropriately acknowledge progress along
the way. That means accepting victory when it's achieved, rather
than trumping up opposition at every opportunity.
When I asked Stanback how Connecticut's gay community reacted to
Love Makes a Family's announcement, she said that the response had
been overwhelmingly positive but was also characterized by sadness.
"There was a sense of community," she says. "It was exciting to be
a part of a movement."
It's understandable that a civil rights organization's decision
to shut down would induce nostalgia for struggles gone by. But the
underlying reason for the move represents a step forward. Arriving
days before Iowa and Vermont legalized gay marriage, it points to
the day, hard as it may be to imagine now, when civil rights groups
will no longer be necessary.