It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,--
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
 

Last night I went to Here in West Hollywood, home of Truck Stop and therefore my favorite gay/lesbian bar. They were having an open vodka bar, which I took advantage of, and watching the election results on the screen. For once I was actually glad not to have tv at home, because it meant getting out and having to be a part of a community, and what better community to be in than WeHo.

 

It was really beautiful. Despite the drinking and the Rihanna the dj would play at commercial breaks, everyone sat glued to the coverage. We cheered at the smallest victories, and when our state came in and made the difference, we went crazy. His speech was beautiful. I cried through most of it. Everyone was so happy. And when he said, "whether you're gay/straight," we all cheered like never before and there was a sense of safety. "Hey it looks like this guy didn't just make us promises and appeal to us to get our votes, maybe he actually values us as human beings." THAT is part of what makes this election so historic.

But it was bittersweet, of course, as we watched the tallies come in from Prop 8 (more like Prop H8, amirite?) Everyone's reaction was less morose than I was expecting. They took the information in, let out a jeer, and then went back to celebrating. I was confused, because I kind of felt like crying (more), and I couldn't figure out why no one was still watching the results. A woman in her 40s came up to me, telling me about how she was retiring because she had sooo much money (eye roll,) and invading my personal bubble like I couldn't believe. (At ease. You gets none of deez.) So I finally got off of my chair and headed for the door, at which point a cute girl named Rivkah came up to me to tell me she'd been watching me and offered to buy me a drink. But I was exhausted and overwhelmed by happiness and a sense of disappointment. So I left. (But not without getting her number...I'm not dead!!)

It took me awhile to understand the lack of comisserating in the bar last night. And finally I got it. It wasn't that people didn't care. People around here have been putting their hearts and souls into defeating Prop 8. It was just that they still felt we'd won. They knew we'd elected a president, who is more likely to help the GLBT than any other before him. (Hell, he gave a "shout out" in his speech!) They knew the fact that Prop 8 was even on the ballot meant we'd succeeded in legalizing gay marriage in California. That's huge. And the more progress you make, the more the other side is going to try to push back. The fact that they consider us a threat means they don't view us as weaklings to be easily swept under the rug. But I think the most important thing the people in the bar last night knew was that, though the battle be a long one, it's one we can and will win. This election and Barack Obama are perfect examples of how things can change and of how we may even get to see these changes in our lifetime. As he said in his speech, "I have never been more hopeful than I am tonight."



Still I guess I was just a bit surprised. I kept hearing "yes" and "no" were neck in neck in poll results, but it seemed impossible. Perhaps I'd just forgotten about the other cities and counties in this state. Here in L.A., where a Yes on 8 sign is such an anomoly, it seemed hard to imagine there were supporters. But maybe there were tons of "yesers" living right next door to all those No signs, too embarassed to put there hate right out their on the front lawn. It used to be a shameful thing to be homosexual. Now, more and more, it's a shameful thing to be homophobic. That, my friends, is progress.