Because of People like you

It’s 11:03 PM. My wife just ten minutes ago told me goodnight. Our tabby is snuggled in-between us and our German Shepard is making dreaming sounds at the foot of our bed.

Every day I think of how much I love C. I tell her probably more than an enneagram 5 needs to know, but I can’t help it - I love my her, deeply.

When the Supreme Court ruled for marriage equality, I was working for a law firm and very much closeted. I lived in fear of losing my job due to the fact that my employer was an oozing republican. So, there in my grey four-walled cubicle I cried silently. I cried silently as Jim Obergefell received a phone call from President Obama. I wept silent tears all day and held my breath in the hope that, I too, could be equal.

I left my job a year later, as Trump’s first presidential bid began. Finally, I wasn’t weeping in silence. I was completely out. There was no more hiding of any degree in the workplace and beyond. I wrote President Obama that year to say thank you for his support of marriage equality and how his voice and countless others in this movement helped me to live fully into myself. To my shock and surprise, a few weeks later a large envelope from the White House was on my doorstep.

I had received a copy of the proclamation for June as national pride month, a signed photo of the president, and a letter. I cried once more, but not in silence.

That letter from President Obama ended with “because of people like you who are brave…” and I will never forget the first time I read those words. That letter hangs in my work office where I am openly accepted for my sexuality.

Tonight’s appointment of Amy Coney Barrett threatens so much of the peace that has come from historic landmark judicial process on my queer communities rights. It threatens all those who identify as women, our health care rights as human beings, my marriage to the woman I love, and so much more.

All I know in this moment is this offering of pastoral presence - lament is holy. Being afraid is holy. Being angry is holy. Being hopeful is holy. Being unsure is holy. Crying is holy. Expressing and sitting in these emotions is holy. And we are still here and our voices still matter. Rest first. Grieve first.

We weep tonight loudly and tomorrow, because of people like you, we will keep advocating and keep fighting.