Gay Marriage on the news today.


The Catholic, Anglican, and Greek Orthodox churches are uniting against it.

They had nothing more to say than “You just can’t change it. If you do change it, then bad things will happen, and it’ll be in our schools. Marriage is between a man and a woman.”

You know, I read it on the net all the time and it doesn’t get to me so much. There are morons on the net. There are morons in the real world, but I never really run into them.

Somehow, actually hearing someone say it- their actual voice, as I sit and watch their actual face on television- causes me great pain. It’s not like reading it on the internet. On the net, people are faceless. I can ignore them. When they’re right there and I can see them, and see that they are human beings, it hurts me. I recognise them as other human beings. I know, if I hadn’t heard them say that, I could be friendly to them. I could treat them with respect. I could smile and charm and we might have something in common.

I like to believe that all people have some good in them.

Watching their faces and hearing their voices as they protest so loudly, so ignorantly, against marriage… Against letting people who love eachother to swear to eachother their eternal devotion, to visit eachother in hospital, to have children, to feel safe…

Listening to them say that, it takes a moment, but I realise that it’s me they’re talking about. That it’s my closest friends they’re talking about. My father, my mother, my family. My sisters. Good people. Good, true, strong, honest people, who love just like they do. People who might even believe in the same god, and go to the same church as them. People who breathe the same air. People who deserve the same level of respect as these people on the television take for granted.

The person in the screen is someone I would go out of my way to treat kindly, and he is telling me and mine that we are wrong.

That we do not deserve to be treated like he and his wife, his children, and grandchildren are.

That we are threats.

That we are abominations.

That if we were somehow born to fall in love with someone with different genitals to our own, that only then would we be worthy of kindness and respect.

That because we were born (or made) as we are, we are less than human.

And all I can do is sit there and try not to cry, and wonder, “What did we ever do to you?”

It’s just love. Just… love.

What is so scary, so threatening, about love?


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