Marching for My Rights

When my fellow students were protesting at San Diego State in the sixties, I didn't join them. VietNam. I couldn't identify. Didn't concern me.

Well, this one concerns me. Proposition 8 just stripped me of my fundamental right to form a legal family. I had the right for 6 precious months, and now it's gone.

First one son, then the other told me about the march tonight. I wasn't going to go. I went to a movie. After the movie, I found myself on a BART train, heading for San Francisco.

I wasn't going to miss this one.

I got there early -- of course -- at 5 pm at the Civic Center. I waited around with a little crowd, growing in number as the minutes ticked away. I saw several had "No on 8" signs with their own sayings on the back. They waved them at passing motorists. Some of the cars honked in approval as they sped past, quickly on their way home in the fading light.

Suddenly I saw that a man was approaching me. I couldn't believe it -- one of my former coworkers! He came over, I hugged him, and he signed a greeting to me. He's deaf. He brought me over to his friends, a man a bit younger than me and two lesbians who were, I'd guess, still in their 20's. We chatted, waiting for the event. I finally asked the guy how he knew my friend. He didn't answer right away, and instead signed to my friend. He finally answered, "Partner. I had to make sure you knew he was gay." Oh, yeah. I knew. And I knew he knew about me.

Finally the small crowd started moving towards Market Street. I wondered why it was such a small crowd, and I finally found out when we reached Market. The crowd was waiting there. When we all got together, the traffic stopped, and the crowd ventured forth out into the street, like Moses parting the Red Sea. Thousands and thousands converged, and we all marched together.

Lots of people started cute little chants, and then one would stop and another began. Lots of homemade signs. Lots of mostly young people, texting as they walked, some talking on their phones, others taking photos with their phones or cameras. We passed one guy on a bullhorn with a sign that said, "Marry Me!" An impossible task right now, it would seem.

I asked one young woman beside me what her sign said. She's a lesbian from Los Angeles and Mexico. She had something to say. Another young woman held a sign: "Let my Moms marry!" Another woman had a sign that said, "You give rights to chickens but take mine away?"

I didn't chant. I felt too small among all the tall people with huge strides, and had to watch where I was going. I was taking it all in. And trying not to be trampled. I'm new at this.

I know that not all these people are gay. Aaron called me -- he was there in the crowd. He supports us. I thanked him for his support on the phone. He answered back: "No, thank you!"

It was an awesome event. I should've done it a long time ago.