Gay rites; New Hampshire's Bishop Gene Robinson is about to enter into a civil union
Gene Robinson
“I always wanted to be a June bride.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew there'd be trouble. I'd just delivered an hour-long lecture on the relationship between religion and public discourse, and why religious fervour over homosexuality plays such a large and negative role in the securing of full civil rights for gay people.
During the question-and-answer period, someone asked me about the forthcoming civil union between me and Mark, my partner of 20 years. The audience had been welcoming and sympathetic, full of laughter and understanding, and for one moment, I forgot that the C-SPAN cameras were rolling and that every word I said would be parsed by my critics. Within hours, those eight words had made it around the world, thanks to conservative bloggers and the magic of the internet.
No context; nothing about the preceding hour of carefully constructed comments; nothing about my defence of - and love for - the Scriptures; nothing about the loving God to whom I constantly pointed. Just this one sentence.
Surely no one thinks that I'll don a wedding gown and wear flowers in my hair. But I suspect that a lot of people are uncomfortable with me using the word “bride” - a word associated with women as property - to describe a man. For many centuries marriage was about the transfer of property (the bride) from one man (the father) to another man (the groom), in some places accompanied by the payment of a dowry or bride price. Is calling myself a “bride” offensive because it relegates a “privileged” man to the status of a woman? I'll be the first to admit that it would have been better if I'd never uttered those eight words - not because they aren't true, but simply because they gave the conservative forces something else to use against me. It was a stupid thing to say, and I should have known better.
What I should have said was something like this: “Gay and lesbian people grow up with the same hopes that other people do - that they'll be able to celebrate their love for one another with family and friends gathered around, pledging their support for the faithful, monogamous, lifelong-intentioned, holy vows they've just taken. I, too, have always longed for such a day.”
The worst part is that it's reminiscent of the years and years that I had to self-censor everything I said, so as not to give away the fact that I was gay. Gay and lesbian people learn at an early age to filter every single word before uttering it, straining out anything that might indicate who we really are on the inside. I know from my own experience, and from that of countless others, that this is an exercise in self-alienation. In a nanosecond we listen in our heads to what we're about to say and, before speaking, edit out anything that might indicate to the listener that we're gay. We get really, really good at it, until it becomes second nature. But it takes a toll on our souls.
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In a new book the Anglican clergyman explains why
he wanted to formalize his 20 year relationship
he wanted to formalize his 20 year relationship
“I always wanted to be a June bride.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew there'd be trouble. I'd just delivered an hour-long lecture on the relationship between religion and public discourse, and why religious fervour over homosexuality plays such a large and negative role in the securing of full civil rights for gay people.
During the question-and-answer period, someone asked me about the forthcoming civil union between me and Mark, my partner of 20 years. The audience had been welcoming and sympathetic, full of laughter and understanding, and for one moment, I forgot that the C-SPAN cameras were rolling and that every word I said would be parsed by my critics. Within hours, those eight words had made it around the world, thanks to conservative bloggers and the magic of the internet.
No context; nothing about the preceding hour of carefully constructed comments; nothing about my defence of - and love for - the Scriptures; nothing about the loving God to whom I constantly pointed. Just this one sentence.
Surely no one thinks that I'll don a wedding gown and wear flowers in my hair. But I suspect that a lot of people are uncomfortable with me using the word “bride” - a word associated with women as property - to describe a man. For many centuries marriage was about the transfer of property (the bride) from one man (the father) to another man (the groom), in some places accompanied by the payment of a dowry or bride price. Is calling myself a “bride” offensive because it relegates a “privileged” man to the status of a woman? I'll be the first to admit that it would have been better if I'd never uttered those eight words - not because they aren't true, but simply because they gave the conservative forces something else to use against me. It was a stupid thing to say, and I should have known better.
What I should have said was something like this: “Gay and lesbian people grow up with the same hopes that other people do - that they'll be able to celebrate their love for one another with family and friends gathered around, pledging their support for the faithful, monogamous, lifelong-intentioned, holy vows they've just taken. I, too, have always longed for such a day.”
The worst part is that it's reminiscent of the years and years that I had to self-censor everything I said, so as not to give away the fact that I was gay. Gay and lesbian people learn at an early age to filter every single word before uttering it, straining out anything that might indicate who we really are on the inside. I know from my own experience, and from that of countless others, that this is an exercise in self-alienation. In a nanosecond we listen in our heads to what we're about to say and, before speaking, edit out anything that might indicate to the listener that we're gay. We get really, really good at it, until it becomes second nature. But it takes a toll on our souls.
full article
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