M. Suzanne Terry

At the beginning of the year, I always make a reading goal for myself.  It’s usually grand, and I usually don’t meet it.  That’s not the point.  The point is that I have a view of what I want my year to look like, and even working toward that view ends up making the year wonderful.  The goal is a wish that someday, I’ll be doing the kind of thing with my life where I have time to read all of those books.  Someday, I’ll be getting paid to write, and while the main thing a writer does is write, every successful writer I know will tell you that another thing a writer does is read.  Oh, to have a life where part of my job is to read!  One of these years, it’s going to come true.  Then I will always meet my reading goal.

The things that get me stuck on reading goals are reading things that are “good for me” rather than only reading the things that I want to read.  There is merit in this.  It’s a way of learning to take the perspective of the other rather than just feeding yourself more of what’s entertaining or otherwise immediately valuable to you, which is a grand skill to have.  We see what happens when people can’t fathom any point of view but their own (i.e., the circus that is the Presidential race).  It’s why your English teacher made you read The Red Badge of Courage, or Wuthering Heights, or Lord of the Flies, or anything by Shakespeare.  I actually enjoyed those books (well, except for The Red Badge of Courage.  Screw that noise), but I remember many of my classmates didn’t. But if they actually read the book instead of scouring a summary for testing purposes, they didn’t just fulfill an assignment for a high school class.  They practiced an important skill in being a proper citizen of the world – listening to others who may think very differently from them.  And here they thought they’d never use what they learned in high school!

I’m currently reading a book entitled A Queer Thing Happened to America.  It was loaned to me by a friend who posted something on Facebook that was opposed to gay marriage, and of course, I compulsively responded.  I’m tempted to look back and chide my then self for getting involved in yet another Facebook debate, but I’m glad I did.  Well, I’ll be glad I did once I finish this tedious book.  My friend told me that it was a well-reasoned argument for his position, and I was intrigued, as I’ve never actually read a well-reasoned argument for that position, and as my friend is himself a fairly logical person, I figured he’d know how to spot such an argument.

So that’s what I went into the book expecting.  Reason.  Logic.  An as-objective-as-possible review of the research on both sides of the subject, followed by the author’s deductive method for coming to his point of view.

So far, it’s been a little over a hundred pages of whining and finger-pointing.  “Look what they said about me.  They say we’re hateful?! They’re hateful!”  Apparently this author is a well-known, much maligned spokesperson for the traditional family, and people who have less traditional families don’t like that (or, by extension, him).  And so far, this book has been nothing but his attempt to convince the reader that he’s the good guy in the scenario – that it’s Those People who are really the hateful ones.  And while some hateful things have been said to him, I’m growing tired of all the rehashing.  I’m beginning to imagine him as a really tall, petulant child, stomping his foot, screaming, “But it’s not fair!!”

This is not all his fault.  If the book had been presented to me or marketed as his memoir (which is what it actually is), the extreme navel-gazing and “please understand me” feel would be acceptable.  But I went in wanting a defense of the position, not a person.  And that’s not what I’m getting.

I am drawing a couple of conclusions thus far:

1.  We need to stop throwing around the word “hate” so much.  Sure, there is hate in the world.  And sure, we could stand to be less uppity with each other where such sensitive issues that affect quality of life are concerned.  We could all stand to be a little more loving.  But someone disagreeing with me is not what hate looks like.  Automatically branding the opposing position (whichever side one is on) as “hate” shuts down dialogue on the subject, and that leaves all of us sulking in our own corners, licking our wounds, and just getting madder and madder, because we’ve stopped listening to the people we now label hateful, so everything coming from them sounds like a resounding gong or a clashing cymbal (thank you, St. Paul, for the imagery).  And they just keep talking, not realizing that their failed attempts at coming across as loving  or open-minded are really just pouring salt into a wound.  And suddenly we’re “us,” and they’re “them,” and we can’t agree with them no matter what, because that violates our pronouns.  It’s a maddening cycle, and it needs to stop.

2.  Church and state need to be separated.  Not just as a neat, inspiring, yay-America concept – for real.  They’re just no good to each other.  Separation of church and state protects the legal freedoms of both.  The author paints this doomsday picture where, if we allow the government to change the definition of marriage, it will automatically change it for the church and what the church is allowed to teach, and he’s not wrong.  In countries where separation of church and state is not practiced, that absolutely happens – all entities under the state, which basically means all entities period, have to comply with state philosophy.  Some might even argue that that’s a good thing, particularly where this issue is concerned.  But I am more of (read: firmly implanted in) the “I may disagree with what you’re saying, but I will defend to the death your right to say it,” school of thought.  Separation of church and state protects the church’s (and other philosophical groups) freedom of speech.

But it works both ways.  If we want government to relinquish control of what the church teaches (and my guess is that Mr. Brown very much does want this), the church has to relinquish control of the government, which is essentially what the opposition to the legalization of gay marriage is, as far as I understand it (like I said, I’ve yet to hear a logical, non-religious support of the position).  Advocates of this position often hide behind the upholding of the legal definition of marriage and the slippery slope that might (I’m being conservative – many of them would substitute “definitely will” in place of “might” here) occur if we expand it.  I don’t often hear any of them opposing the expansion of the legal definition of other things to be more inclusive, which pretty much happens constantly, though.  So what’s different about this proposed definition change?  It offends their religious beliefs, which, under separation of church and state (you know, the thing that’s protecting their right to voice those religious beliefs), should have no grounds for controlling legislation.

What is most baffling to me about this issue is that expanding the legal definition of marriage wouldn’t actually change anything personally for any of the people I know who oppose it.  Their marriages would still be just as legally binding as they are now, and all the rights associated with that legal marriage would stay the same.  No one is asking them to give up any of their rights.  Ultra-conservative citizens have just as many rights as other citizens to vote as they choose, believe as they choose, and live as they choose.  They just shouldn’t have more rights.  Maybe this is the thing that they don’t want to give up – the extra-special privilege that they’ve been enjoying that is special simply because it’s denied to others.  I hope there’s more to it than that, because that seems a little greedy.  I hope that this book answers my bafflement.