What am I going to do, with nothing to scream about? Who am I, without a cause? What are you doing, Mister President? Are you trying to win me over?
This week, I’m going to track down The Obama Headquarters. This week, I’m going to volunteer. This week, I’m going to begin weaving-in the small steps of taking the huge leap in re-electing Barack Hussein Obama to the presidency of the United States of America.
When I think of all the gay kids who finally have a president willing to stick his neck out for them, when I think of all the gay couples who can stop waiting for the president to “evolve,” when I think of Ed Campanelli, the first friend I ever had who came out to me, and forced me to ask myself not what I believe, but why I believe what I believe, I feel history winking at me.
I would ask President Obama to meet with Vice President Biden; I would ask President Obama to meet with Vice President Cheney; both leaders have expressed a desire for marriage equality. Their reasons are different, but just as beautiful. Dick Cheney wants marriage equality because his daughter is gay and what parent wants their child to be second-class? Joe Biden wants marriage equality because he’s Joe Biden, and when he was asked about gay marriage, he couldn’t bottle-up the lie anymore. How sweet is that?
I LOVE JOE BIDEN.
The relationship between Joe Biden and Barack Obama is everything you could hope for in Washington. It’s clear these men couldn’t be more different. And yet, they listen to each other. Their needs and interests mirror our needs and interests. It doesn’t matter if Joe is known for gaffes and Barack is known for eloquence. This week, for a change, it wasn’t about style. President Obama listened to Vice President Biden, and in doing so, brought all of us into a debate more meaningful than anything else, a debate more important than anything else, a debate about equality.
I lived in New York City for 15-years. I stayed 4-years too long. I became cynical. I moved to Chicago. Over the course of 8-years, I became a non-practicing optimist. But not anymore. Things have changed. I recognize what it is: change I can believe in.
As if queer was anything but a different way of looking at something we’ve grown too accustomed to calling “normal,” for lack of imagination. As of Wednesday, May 9th, 2012, for the first time since I was an easily wounded teenager, once again, I’m proud to say, I’m an optimist.
Thank you, Mister President.