Things are silent here. It’s the silence of grief.
I’m not sure how to explain what I mean, but, here’s an attempt:
When the Beav first came to the States with me in 2002, I was struck by and realized, in a way that I’d never come close to realizing before, that our relationship was illegal, that caught in an odd moment or an odd place, we could be subject to law and that the law would consider our relationship to be unnatural and punishable. So when the Supreme Court later decided in Lawrence v. Texas that homosexuality could not be criminalized that decision mattered to me profoundly. From that point forward, the Beav and I could travel to the states with less fear and uncertainty. Yes, we would still endure the scrutiny of border guards and have to decide whether to present ourselves together as a couple or apart as “just friends.” But however unpleasant these individual moments of exposure, we had the confidence that comes from knowing finally we were legal. Now, years later, same-sex marriage has also be declared legal, and I’d begun to assume that things were getting (and would continue to get) better for everyone.
Which is why Trump’s election comes as a punch in the gut. It feels like the deck has been shuffled and the rules changed. Suddenly an ugly politics of racism and sexism openly bellows its support for an abhorrent white nationalism that I had naively—oh so very very naively—hoped was being steadily shuffled off into the dustbin of history. We’re not debating options for how to improve things anymore. We’re watching whole swaths of people be scapegoated, demonized and spoken about as if they were less that fully human. That’s how bad things are.
And I was a white male fool to have thought we were past that point and couldn’t go back.
It’s a terrible, discouraging moment.