Sally, Mildred & Me

By Diane Silver

My new Hope and Politics column is up at Camp-KC.

Ranting about taxes & being gay

By Diane Silver

In my latest Hope & Politics column, I mull over what April 15 means to a lesbian. (Can you say "rant?" Can you say "second-class citizenship?")

The Perils of Assumption

By Diane Silver

Here's my latest Hope & Politics column.

Yes Virginia, there is hope in politics, especially when it comes to treating LGBT people fairly

By Diane Silver

On a happier note than the nastiness of the Paul Morrison stories, my latest Hope & Politics column has been posted by Camp-KC.

Hope & Politics: "You spend a lot of time with your stomach in a knot."

By Diane Silver

My new Hope and Politics column takes on the issues of depression, terror and other emotional "joys" about being involved in lesbian and gay political causes.

When you’re gay and working on LGBT issues, you spend a lot of time with your stomach in a knot. ...Saying the right thing to a reporter can make the difference between a law that helps a lesbian keep her child and a law that takes him away. It can mean that a gay man can get health insurance from his partner’s employer or lose access to health care completely.

The column is up at Camp KC and will be coming out in the August issue of the Liberty Press.

We discover each other

By Diane Silver

I discovered Freedom To Marry's terrific Marriage Equality blog, just about the same time they discovered me. Very cool.

The Marriage Equality blog does a great job of keeping up to date on all the news and commentary on the topic of fairness in marriage laws. I'm impressed by the freshness of their links and the depth and breadth of their material.

And no, I'm not praising them just because they liked my Hope & Politics column, although they do show remarkably good taste in reading material.

The good news out here in Kansas is that it has finally stopped raining, but rivers are still rising. I am lucky to not be near any of the flooded areas. Let's hope it stays that way.

The new Hope & Politics column is now up at Camp KC & despite the rain, life is good

By Diane Silver

Happy Saturday. As we say in Kansas: There are only two kinds of rain in the Sunflower State, drought and flood. Today we've got flood, along with flash flood warnings and full blown flood warnings where the TV is urging folks in some counties to seek higher ground. Ugh.

Today I am delighted to be heading to the wedding of two friends. These wonderful women have already been together for a decade and are now having a commitment ceremony at our church. Once again this shows that voting for marriage equality is a vote for religious freedom. Many churches marry same-sex couples.

Meanwhile, my new column is now up online at Camp. "Why We're Winning" is also being printed this month by the Liberty Press.

Keep dry. Be well.

Courage and Gay Pride

By Diane Silver

I am an unapologetic fan of the 1990’s TV show Xena Warrior Princess. I love the steely look in her ice blue eyes. I love Xena’s confidence and her cocky strength. I love the endless snuggles with sidekick Gabrielle, but most of all I love six little words that introduced every episode.

“Her courage,” an announcer said about Xena, “will save the world.”

Saving the world is in the job description of fantasy heroes like Xena. The hero conquers the bad guys, while the masses (that would be everyday folk like you and me) are either being rescued or applauding.

As we celebrate Gay Pride this month, though, I think we need to acknowledge what each of us has done for the world. Whether we are politicians, generals, community leaders, doctors, lawyers, artists, teachers or janitors, we have all made a difference Every lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgendered person is just as much a hero as Xena. And, yes, our courage is truly changing the world.

What every one of us has done is to make our own heroic journey. Depending on our age, the attitudes of our communities and the religious background of our families, we may well have even battled against great odds for our physical survival. At the very least, we have emerged victorious from a psychological struggle that heterosexuals don’t have to face.

In case you haven’t guessed yet, I’m talking about the act of coming out. Every single LGBT person on the planet has done it. We may only have come out to ourselves, or we may have broadcast the news as Ellen DeGeneres’ TV character did in 1997, but we have all come out.

Each of us has had the courage to accept our own truth in a society that says we are evil, sinful, stupid, immoral, shallow, perverse, criminal, mean, lonely, sad, doomed, twisted, inadequate, sick and on and on.

I came out nearly 30 years ago, and I remember the terror as if it were yesterday. I didn’t know a single person who was gay. We weren’t on TV or in the movies then. There were no models of what my life would be if I admitted I was a lesbian, yet I, thankfully, made a leap of faith.

To come out is to be born from a struggle for authenticity. Today there are role models, books and support groups. Young men and women may find it easier to accept their orientation. Until hate mongers go out of business, though, struggle and fear will not completely disappear from the act of coming out.

To come out is to wrestle an authentic identify away from a culture that wants you to be someone else. That struggle makes us all heroes. More than that, it provides a model for a culture that is in desperate need of honesty.

We are surrounded by people who are afraid to be who they are. They are secret adventurers who toil as accountants because they fear being without a paycheck. They are spouses pretending to love partners they long ago learned to hate. They are 18-year-olds going off to college because they’re too afraid to tell their parents what they really want. They are doctors who yearn to be farmers; lawyers who daydream of becoming ministers; and all the people who live lies because they can’t face who they really are.

I don’t think it’s an accident that the phrase “coming out” has become a kind of code for being authentic. I’ve heard people talk about coming out in ways that have nothing to do with sexual orientation. I’ve even heard people talk about “coming out as a conservative” or “coming out as a Christian.”

Whether you attend gay pride, hang out a rainbow flag or ignore the celebration completely this month, take a moment. Think about your own heroic journey, and thank yourself for having the courage to be.
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This column is being published this month by The Liberty Press and Camp KC. Regular blogging resumes soon.

Responding to Fred Phelps & the Westboro Baptist Church with decency

By Diane Silver

You can’t be gay and not know about Fred Phelps and the Westboro Baptist Church of Topeka, Kan. Actually, it’s hard to be alive and not know about the church, and its ever-present protests at the funerals of troops killed in Iraq.

Their latest infamy (as of the date of this column) is a threat to picket the funerals of those murdered at Virginia Tech. Perhaps by the time you read this, the Phelps will have made good on their threat. They almost always do.

The LGBT community has been dealing with Westboro’s vileness for 20 years. The Phelps Gang – and the 70 church members are largely family – first gained notoriety for picketing anything in Kansas they thought was gay. That included a performing arts center and a Topeka restaurant where blue-haired grandmothers met for lunch.

I ran into the Phelps my first week in Kansas. They were picketing the KU Union for a reason that remain obscure. What stuck in my mind was their sign declaring: “Bob Dole Gay!”

I had two reactions. First: “Huh?” Second was an outraged cry of “Dole isn’t one of ours; we won’t take him!”

Their reasons for claiming Dole was gay, their pickets at the funerals of soldiers, and the victims of AIDS and murder makes little sense, and I’m not going to repeat it here.

As absurd as the Phelps seem, though, there is nothing funny about the fact that they picket funerals. They hurt people at the most vulnerable moments of their lives.

As decent human beings, how should we respond to their awfulness? Should we heap as much venom on them as they heap on us? Should we limit their right to speak? Should we throw things at them?

In the decades I’ve been around their pickets, I’ve seen all those methods attempted. I personally tried arguing with Margie Phelps once outside the Lied Center at KU. I’ve shouted at them.

Once in Lawrence, I slowly walked into the middle of their protest and stood surrounded by their fury for what seemed like an eternity, thereby terrifying my friends. I have never quite understood why I did that. Perhaps I needed to stand in the middle of all that hate and know I could survive.

After the Virginia Tech shootings, many people visited my blog to read about the Phelps and vent. So far, I’ve deleted three comments listing their personal phone numbers. These commentators exhorted people to harass the Phelps by phone and “let them know how much you disapprove of them.”

I deleted those comments because I don’t endorse harassing anyone, even people who have done so much to hurt others.

From a practical point of view, nothing anyone can say or do will change these people’s minds. By harassing them, people give the Phelps “proof” that the world outside their church is hateful and full of anger. (And yes, I know they prompt that anger, but we’re not talking about rationality here.)

If the purpose of such harassment is to inflict as much pain on them as they heap on others, then I have to not-so-gently suggest that this is a lousy idea. If we act like them, we are no better than they are. By focusing on name calling and anger, we also descend into the same hell the Phelps inhabit. That’s not a place where I want to live.

Like many, I’ve thought about the fact that family patriarch Fred Phelps is not young. Someday soon it will be time for his funeral. Wouldn’t it be sweet justice if all the people from all the funerals Westboro has ever picketed show up that day? Perhaps they could hold obscene signs and jeer like the Phelps do.

As hateful as the Phelps are, that doesn’t feel right. All of us deserve to be treated decently.

Even the man who preaches hate deserves to be given love once in his life.
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This column was originally published in The Liberty Press in May 2007. Regular blogging will resume after Memorial Day.

Committing Family

This column was first published by The Liberty Press in April 2007. Regular blogging will resume after Memorial Day.
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By Diane Silver

I hurt.

I suffered a loss this month. It’s the kind of loss that makes you suddenly pack a bag and go online to buy airline tickets to fly to a family funeral.

This is personal, but sadly people will also try to make it political because this loss illustrates how those of us who are LGBT are never allowed to just be family. Even explaining who died could be seen as a political act. Despite the usual focus of this column, though, I don’t want to do that.

The people who pursue us with a single-minded obsession force every aspect of our families into the political arena. I’m just as tired of it as I’m sure you are if you’re LGBT or part of one of our families, but I digress.

The person who died was named Marge. She was 87. She had been in failing health for several years, and she was my mother-in-law. And here is where things get sticky.

Most people probably wouldn’t have called her that. I suspect Marge might have been uncomfortable with that title, but that is who she was. Marge was the mother of my late life partner, and the relationship I had with my late partner was a marriage in all but name.

Marge was never completely comfortable with that relationship. However, she did something that millions of mothers do every year. She accepted her daughter and her choices. Marge didn’t disown her, and she always welcomed both of us home for reunions.

When my partner had a son and I eagerly took on the role of co-parent, Marge doted on her grandson and accepted me farther into the family. When my partner died of breast cancer and my son was only 7 years old, Marge could have torn us apart. She could have demanded custody of my son, and given Kansas law, both then and now, she would have won. Instead, she did what loving grandmothers should do: She thought about the needs of her grandchild.

My son had already lost one parent. Marge and other members of the family didn’t compound that by tearing him away from the only other parent he had ever known. As a result, my son knew security. He survived the tragic loss of one parent and grew into the fine man of 21 he is today.

You see how this could be seen as political, don’t you? To call Marge my mother-in-law, to even say that I’m going to a family funeral, is to claim to have been married. To some people, that’s a sin. To honor Marge for considering what was best for her grandson is to call into question every lie the anti-gay right tells about LGBT parents. Even to be invited to Marge’s funeral is to destroy the myth that lesbians are always shunned.

Oh yes, LGBT people face many trials, and my late partner and I even faced a couple of them with Marge and other members of the family. But to the credit of this incredibly tight-knit group of people, they have always done with the best families do: They made decisions out of compassion. They followed the Golden Rule and treated others as they themselves would want to be treated.

In a few days, my son and I will board a plane, fly down to Florida and share our grief with the rest of the family.

When we’re attending services, laughing about the fun times and sharing tears, we won’t be making a political point. Instead, we will be doing what millions of other LGBT families do every day: We will be living our lives.

Perhaps, that is the most radical act of all.

Kansas: A little science fictiononal daydreaming

By Diane Silver

I have a confession: I love science fiction.

I’m one of those crazy people who never met a story about a space ship they didn’t like. I also love to speculate about the future, whether I’m mulling over the impact of new technology or changes in society.

That is why I want to engage in a science fictional exercise right now. I want you to imagine a future Kansas. Flying cars zip through the air. Shiny skyscrapers crowd the downtowns of what have become the densely populated cities of Topeka and, let’s say, Salina.

This far-off future is an age where same-sex couples can legally marry. The laws of the state treat us as fairly as they treat other Kansans. Our families and children are legally supported. Prejudice has all but disappeared as more people have learned the truth about our lives.

In this daydream, LGBT Kansans and our straight allies are organized in every part of the state. Politicians who campaign against gays are voted out of office. Our lobbyists are active in the Statehouse. Reporters seek out our representatives and publicize our viewpoints. If bigots attack, people have a place to turn for help.

Alas, fair laws, marriage equality and support for our children are as much science fiction in Kansas as skyscrapers in Salina. The rest of that daydream, though, isn’t far fetched. In fact, some of it is already happening thanks to the Kansas Equality Coalition

Just under a year old, the Equality Coalition has the potential to turn all of that daydream into reality.

The coalition has already begun organizing around the state. The group’s lobbyist worked the Statehouse during the last legislative session. Reporters are calling the group’s leaders for comment. When the owners of a Meade, Kan., hotel were harassed for flying a rainbow flag and Topeka’s anti-discrimination commission was threatened, the coalition was there to help.

I’ve either watched or been involved in gay rights work in this state for more than 20 years, and I’ve never seen anything like the Equality Coalition before. The group is already larger, is more geographically diverse and has a wider range of volunteers than past Kansas groups.

The coalition is also the first Kansas gay rights group to be organized in chapters. This allows the group to build strength in lawmakers’ home districts.

“With seven chapters around the state -- and more on the way – we’re able to have a local presence everywhere from Liberal to Overland Park,” said Thomas Witt, the group’s chair. “We have the ability to respond to local events and statewide issues in a coordinated way across Kansas.”

The coalition has established a PAC to elect candidates who will vote for equality, and defeat those who don’t. Plans call for an educational foundation to teach Kansans about the issues and needs of their LGBT neighbors.

One of the group’s strengths is its straight volunteers. Anna Kraxner, secretary for the Lawrence Chapter, said she is involved because she doesn’t like injustice.

“Expecting – forcing -- any segment of our society to live under a different set of rules because they're supposedly different divides us from ourselves, and that divisiveness generates misunderstanding and hate,” she said. “We are ALL ‘different’ in some way. The goal should be to see how we are alike.”

The organization is already getting attention from national groups. Cyd Slayton, a member of the Human Rights Campaign’s Board of Governors, said HRC “strongly supports KEC’s work.”
"Because of the actions of a few fanatics in the state, Kansas has come to symbolize prejudice and extremism in the minds of too many Americans,” Slayton said. “Thankfully, fair-minded Kansans are standing up and speaking out so that rational voices rise above the polarizing rhetoric.”

I’m not going to pretend to be objective about the coalition. I helped organize the group and served as its first vice chair.

Despite that, I won’t tell you the group is perfect, or can immediately solve all of our problems. We have a long way to go to build the strength we need to protect our community.

Flying cars and other science fictional ideas may never become reality, but fairness under the law can be more than a daydream in Kansas. The Equality Coalition may well give us the tools we need to turn that fiction into fact.
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ILLUSTRATION: The infamous Space Babe of Tiptree Award fame is used by special permission of the Tiptree Literary Award Council. All rights are reserved. Ole' SB was designed by the incredible Jeanne Gomoll. I had the privilege of serving on the Tiptree Award jury this year. That was a fascinating experience that I'm still mulling over and hope to blog on soon.

This column was published in the Liberty Press in 2006, and this is the first time it has appeared online. Regular blogging will resume after Memorial Day.

The biggest secret in Kansas politics

By Diane Silver

This column was first published in the Liberty Press in 2006, so the election I discuss is long past. The advice about getting involved in elections still holds, though. Because of the hard work of many fine people, some of the worst of the anti-gay crowd like then Attorney General Phill Kline and Congressman Jim Ryun were booted out of office last year.
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When I first helped lobby the Kansas Legislature for LGBT rights, I was floored by the response from lawmakers.

It wasn’t the opposition that surprised me. What amazed me was the support.

The year was 2004. I was one of many volunteers working to stop lawmakers from sending a proposed ban on same-sex marriage to voters. That year we won. Even though we lost the marriage fight the next year, our margin of defeat in the Legislature was narrow.

All of which brings me to the point of this column: The biggest secret in Kansas politics today is that fair laws for LGBT Kansans can win in the Statehouse.

I won’t deny that many lawmakers are enthusiastic members of the religious right, but many others are fair minded. They want to vote for fair laws and decent treatment for LGLT Kansans. They want to protect our children and our families, not destroy them.

The problem, though, is that a number of these folks vote against their own beliefs. They do so because they are frightened of the religious right’s political muscle.

Believe it or not, this is good news.

Think about it: The problem isn’t the rightness of our cause or figuring out how to make our case, it’s our political power. This means that you and me can change the situation, and we can do it today.

It’s election season in Kansas. The primary is Aug. 1. The general election is Nov. 7. By getting involved, you can put fair-minded people into the Legislature and other offices.

You don’t have to be rich or have huge blocks of free time. That is particularly true in a state as small as Kansas. Here a seat in the House of Representatives, for example, can be decided by a few hundred or even a dozen votes.

What can you do?

First, register to vote.

Oct. 23 is the last day to register for the November election. Advance voting begins on Oct. 18. Learn how to register at www.voteks.org or at your county clerk’s office.

Second, educate yourself.

Learn where candidates stand on fair treatment for LGBT Kansans. Fortunately, this year that task is easier than ever before.

The state’s new gay-rights group, the Kansas Equality Coalition, is reporting incumbents’ voting records and the results of candidate questionnaires at www.kansasequalitycoalition.org.

Third, get involved.

Give money. Even the smallest check can make a difference. Give directly to the candidate of your choice, or send a check to the new Kansas Equality Coalition PAC at PO Box 3736 Topeka, KS 66604.

Give time. Even one or two hours walking door to door, participating in a phone bank or stuffing envelopes helps. Don’t worry about knowing how. Campaign staff will tell you what to do.
Most importantly: Vote. On Nov. 7, get yourself, your family, your friends, your straight neighbors and your coworkers to the polls.

Actually, I lied.

Going to the polls is vital, but it isn’t our most important task. What do we really have to do to win? We have to believe we can.

I’ve watched Kansas politics for more than 20 years. Too often I’ve seen the results of our fear.
Despair paralyzes. It keeps us from doing the work that is required to win elections.

I’m not saying that the road will be easy. I not saying we’ll get everything, or even half, of what we want in this election or the next one or the one after that.

We suffered a huge defeat in 2005 when voters approved the ban on same-sex marriage and civil unions. However, the significance of that campaign is much different than many people think.

Our percentage of defeat was large, but few voters actually went to the polls that April. Only 24.6 percent of registered voters cast a ballot against us. For the first time in Kansas history, 179,432 of our neighbors stood up to support fairness for LGBT Kansans. We received support in every county in the state, even the most rural.

When we launched the campaign against the marriage ban, we didn’t have a dime. Activists from across the state hadn’t even met. We hadn’t identified our straight allies. A geographically diverse gay rights organization didn’t exist. Today, all that has changed.

The political landscape is undergoing a transformation. The pace may seem glacial, but we are stronger today than ever before.

The only thing that can truly stop us is us.