Duck, Duck, Goose...

This isn't a post about running.  It’s 100% an opinion post.  You've been warned. 

Roughly 24-hours ago, I started seeing headlines about a fella from Duck Dynasty , Phil Robertson, and the fact that he gave his opinion about homosexuality in a magazine interview.  I have not read the articles – not the original article or the articles about the article.  I also don’t watch the show not for any particular reason that it’s just not my cup of tea.  My husband and my son are regular viewers. 

This post isn't really about his opinion because I believe he’s entitled to it.  Just as I’m entitled to my opinion that Mr. Robertson is a bit small-minded.   This post is about the parallels in today’s arguments against homosexuality and the past (and unfortunately current) arguments against interracial relationships.   

It all started with a text exchange yesterday with my husband:

Mark:    Um, doesn’t **John Doe*** have a couple of gay relatives?

GRT:      Why?

Mark:    He’s on FB agreeing with the homophobic and otherwise disparaging comments made by the patriarch of the duck dynasty family.

GRT:      I think his son just came out.

Mark:    That’s just awful.  Not sure how you could feel that way about something you help create.

GRT:      Not sure how you could feel that way period.

Mark:    Well said.

After that is when I saw the Phil Robertson headlines.  Then I noticed a ridiculous amount of social media posts about Mr. Robertson’s opinions.  Truth be told, I’ve been more than a little shocked at the number of my friends and family members that are praising his “Godliness” and openly backing Mr. Robertson – even those folks who have openly gay family members and friends.   What is it the Bible says about judging...?

Between that text exchange and the onslaught of social media messages about Mr. Robertson, who apparently is either the devil for being homophobic or now has a seat reserved beside Jesus in Heaven because of his very Christian views, my mind has been spinning.

Let me be clear.  I do not agree with Mr. Robertson.  I have very simple views when it comes to other people’s relationships:  be kind to children, be kind to the elderly, keep the church out of my government and keep the government out of marriage.  I have a damn good reason for the last part of that opinion.   

My husband is black.   Our 16^th wedding anniversary is tomorrow.  Forty-six years ago, our marriage would have been illegal.  Sixteen years ago it was frowned upon.   Forty-six years ago, Mark and I would have been jailed.  Sixteen years ago, we lost friends because we decided to be together.  Forty-six years ago, we would have been told our marriage was against God.  Sixteen years ago, we heard the same.  Forty-six years ago, interracial couple Mildred and Richard Loving won a civil rights case that started in 1959 when the couple pled guilty to miscegenation – or simply put, being married – and ended with a U.S. Supreme Court decision which overturned laws prohibiting interracial marriage.  Sixteen years ago, our marriage was still ‘illegal’ in several states.   South Carolina removed its constitutional ban on interracial marriage in November of ’98 – a year after Mark and I were married.  Alabama waited until November of 2000 – a month after our son was born. 

Black and white together was disgusting.  

Black and white together was nasty. 

Black and white together was unnatural. 

Black and white together was un-Godly.

Proclaiming your disdain for interracial marriage proved that you were a good Christian, with Godly strength and strong character.    

Sound familiar?   

Today, those same things are said about same-sex couples.  Two men together is disgusting.  Two women together is nasty.  Two men together is unnatural.  Two women together is against God’s will.   Mr. Robertson is a good Christian man that all Christians should look up to because of his beliefs.  Blah, blah, blah.  (For a moment, let me point out the hypocrisy of men who don’t approve of women getting married but certainly don’t mind the homosexual acts of two tarted-up women doing “un-Godly” things to each other in porn.  Tell me I’m wrong…)

In the fall of ’94, Mark and I were sitting in the living room of my college apartment when a friend from home called to see if the rumor was true…she’d heard I was dating a black guy and wanted to know if it was true and made her opinion clear on the subject – it was not an opinion that was pro-interracial relationship.  It was the first of many awful conversations with a lot of different people.  We had been outed and our coming out was not much different than the stories I have heard from my gay friends. 

I often hear people talk about homosexuality being a choice and that makes me giggle a little.  I had a discussion with someone who told me she thinks being gay is a choice and you can change it when you want.  My response was, “Think about that for a second.  Why would you choose a life of pointed fingers and judgment?  Why would you choose to risk losing your family and friends?  It’s not a choice.  People instinctively choose what’s easiest not the road of resistance.”   

I know a little something about choices (or lack of) and hard paths.  I didn’t choose Mark.  Mark didn’t choose me.  Something much larger than either of us brought us together.  Something stronger than us decided that we were going to have a tough road.  In the beginning, although it was unspoken, neither of us wanted to deal with the fallout that came with the two of us being together.   We fought our own hearts but in the end, there was something magnetic between us and we couldn’t walk away.  Eventually, we stopped fighting and became one and here we are.  We believe that all is as God intended.  We believe it’s very natural. 

Now, as I listen to all of the homophobic rants and judgment spewed throughout the media, it’s all so familiar to me.  It’s like having flashbacks only the players have changed a bit – not the haters but those that are condemned and judged.   The haters have stayed a pretty consistent group.  My heart aches to think that anyone in any relationship could have their new-love butterflies taken away by fear of what others might say or how others may react.  My heart aches for the couples who aren’t treated as a couple because a government says they can’t be. 

For the record, I’m not mad at Phil Robertson.  I feel sorry for him but I don’t hate him.  I wish more people were open with their opinions as long as they’re not preaching them.  I would appreciate knowing what I am dealing with instead of having folks hide behind being politically correct.   If you hate black people simply because they’re black, say it.  I don’t need to know your reasons because I’ll never understand them but I’ll also know not to bother with you.  Same holds true if you hate gay people.  We won’t agree, but I’ll know where you stand and life will be easier for both of us. 

Many people have heard me say over the years that I don’t judge people.  I don’t.  I’ll talk about you all day long and twice on Sundays but I won’t judge you.  I’ve walked in the shadows of judgment and, simply put, it sucks.  Mr. Robertson has to live in his skin of judgment.  That’s his burden.  I just pray that people like Mr. Robertson don’t confuse their religious views and opinions with other people’s individual and civil rights.  I hope that this year’s Supreme Court rulings in favor of equality doesn’t take thirty years to trickle down to the states like the 1967 Loving decision did. 

I hope the day will soon come that acts of love, kindness and generosity get more media time than acts of hatred, judgment and condemnation.      

Be kind to children.  Be kind to the elderly.  Hell, be kind to everyone in between.  Keep the church out of my government.  Keep the government out of my marriage.  

Running TALL - on the road and in my heart & soul, 

Julia

© Copyright Julia Vertreese, December 2013