OK, so this is it. This is the day I’m finally equal. No longer a “second class citizen” — in California at least, the third biggest state with the largest population in the good ol’ US of Gay. Today at 5pm, two precious octagenarian lesbians will legally tie the knot at San Francisco City Hall, and tomorrow I’ll have access to the last state right denied to me on the basis of which side I butter my queer toast. Weird.
Will I suddenly walk taller? Will my shoulders expand and my chest inflate? Will I finally fall prey to all that Sex and the City hoo-ha and watch my moods swing from Blahnik pump to Wang gown with every hysterical cosmo and Cosmo I down? Or will I become the stereotypical male role model — unable to commit to an ice cream flavor or credit card company, let alone matrimony.
Gurl, we already had Sex and the City in the ’40s. From www.queermusicheritage.us
Maybe worse, as someone whose queer identity was partly formed by saying “who cares” to marriage, because there’s more pressing problems confronting the community — now that that stance is officially a personal rather than a political statement, what will happen to my politics? “Who cares.”
Mostly, and oddly, though, I found myself waking up this morning itching for a fight.