But I Wanted to Write about How We Cried when Obama Won

One sunny day in 1997, I was taking a walk with my friend. She told me that she heard Ellen Degeneres was going to come out of the closet, and that she was going to make the main character on her show a lesbian. I was 24, and had been out for 3 years already. I pretty much knew Ellen was a lesbian (duh!) but I was surprised by the latest rumors about her TV show. I told my friend that I doubted that would happen. In fact, I told her that I didn't think a show about a lesbian starring an out lesbian would happen "in my lifetime." Of course, I was incredibly incredibly wrong. My laughable myopic statement was uttered just over a decade ago, but it seems like a lifetime. Out t.v and movie characters and public figures are commonplace. States legalized gay marriage. And, yes, our President-Elect explicitly included gay folk in his historic acceptance speech.

And yet.

So many of us had our celebration on Tuesday take a sadder tone when we learned the news of Prop 8. Lovely and I watched the returns, the speeches, the incredibly moving images of people dancing in Chicago, Kenya, Spellman College, Ebenezer Baptist church. We cheered, cried, and drank champagne. When Obama talked about what changes his daughters might see in America if they lived to be 106, I thought of my own daughter. She was nestled in Lovely's lap, wearing an Obama onesie, oblivious to the fact that her country had been changed forever. She slept through my happiest moment as an American. Then Lovely left the room and I checked the Prop 8 news. Not good. Terrible. I decided not to tell Lovely, who worked her ass off fighting an anti-gay amendment in our Home State in 2004, only to be crushed. I wanted her to continue to savor this night of hope and feeling included in something wonderful. She walked up to me and I tried to close the computer browser. But she looked at me and said "I just looked up the same thing in the other room."

I tried to focus on Obama and what it meant. I still celebrated all day Wednesday and felt jubilant, especially when seeing pictures of the First Family. I struggled with the idea that I might be missing the bigger picture of the election since it was "my' group that was screwed. But you can't totally shake it when a majority of people vote to take away your rights, the rights of people you love, and the rights of a community you call your own. I hurt for my friends in California. I thought of Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon and what the people in California were saying about their beautiful inspiring marriage. It is hard to feel excited about inclusion when you are excluded. It is difficult to feel hope when yours dashed in state after state. It is nearly impossible to feel giddy about progress when you see a major step back.

So many people have remarked that Obama's win was something they would never see in their lifetime. How moving it is to hear the stories of people who toiled in the civil rights movement talk about what this election means to them. They talked about how impossible and far off this moment once seemed. They mentioned scars, pain, and losses.

As I despair about Prop 8 and what it means to my family, I'm going to try to keep these heroes in mind. To keep my eyes on the prize. To remember my conversation about Ellen and how change can come sooner than we think. To think about what beautiful and amazing changes my daughter will see if she lives to be 106. To hope it doesn't take that long. To work for it, even when victory seems impossible and far off.

Deep in my heart, I do believe, we will overcome. Someday.