By David DeWitt, Ohio Capital Journal, Used by Permission
I’ve lived in Ohio for nearly four decades and for that entire time, LGBTQ+ lives have been treated by our politicians as little more than a convenient political punching bag. Every year I ask myself, why can’t they just leave us alone?
I turned 18 in late 2002, so my first non-local election as a voter was in 2004, when the George W. Bush campaign juiced his reelection prospects by putting same-sex marriage bans on the ballot and passing them in 11 states, including Ohio.
Welcome to politics, kid, you’re a second-class citizen. That’s the message Ohio welcomed me with as a voter.
It was easy in 2004 to scapegoat and victimize the entire LGBTQ+ community, not just segments of it as we largely see today. We were going to destroy traditional marriage. We were — by seeking the same legal benefits of marriage afforded to opposite-sex couples — going to destroy the entire country. Marriages to farm animals are coming next, they shrieked. “Fire and brimstone… Forty years of darkness… Dogs and cats living together — mass hysteria!”
It took 11 years for Ohio’s same-sex marriage ban to be overturned by the U.S. Supreme Court in its 2015 Obergefell v. Hodges decision, a case originating out of Ohio.
The state of Ohio, under then-Attorney General Mike DeWine, cost taxpayers more than a million dollars working to keep myself and the rest of my LGBTQ+ family second-class citizens, undeserving of the same legal protections as everyone else.
But over those years, the tide had begun to turn. One of the most significant things I learned after 2004 was that many people changed their minds on the issue of LGBTQ+ rights when somebody close to them came out as LGBTQ+. Of course, plenty of others reject their LGBTQ+ family members: disowning us, kicking us out of our homes, or even doing violence to us. But as enough of us came out and showed that we are normal, everyday people with real humanity, the mood of the country slowly changed.
Ohio’s same-sex marriage ban of 2004 was passed by 61.7% of voters. A 2012 poll by the Washington Post showed 52% of Ohio residents saying that same-sex marriage should be legal. A 2016 Public Religion Research Institute poll showed a 56% majority in favor of same-sex marriage in Ohio. A 2022 survey by the same institute showed 70% of Ohio respondents supported same-sex marriage.
And yet, still, Ohio Revised Code Section 3101.01 states “Any marriage between persons of the same sex is against the strong public policy of this state. Any marriage between persons of the same sex shall have no legal force or effect in this state.”
So if the current right-wing U.S. Supreme Court decides to overturn the Obergefell decision and return it to the states, LGBTQ+ Ohioans would once again be relegated to second-class citizenship against the wishes of 70% of the public.
In the last several years, because of this shift in public opinion, right-wing operatives have decided it’s more politically convenient and publicly palatable to shine their spotlight of hatred, lies, and intolerance not on the LGBTQ+ community broadly, but on our transgender brothers and sisters specifically.
Since 2015, the U.S. has seen a sharp increase in anti-trans legislation, with record-breaking numbers the last four years. In 2023, 550 anti-transgender bills were introduced across the U.S., more than in the past eight years combined.
Ohio’s unconstitutionally gerrymandered state legislature has gone full-bore into the play: introducing anti-trans athlete bills, anti-transgender health care bills, and even anti-drag and bathroom ban laws. They passed the youth athlete and gender-affirming care ban just before the end of the year. DeWine vetoed it, but the lege now looks to make their first order of business in 2024 attacking trans people next week with a possible override of DeWine’s veto.
DeWine said during his press conference last week that, “Parents looked me in the eye and they said, ‘My child would be dead if they had not received this care.” DeWine did his research, he listened to families and doctors, and he showed more honesty and compassion in a 30-minute presser than I saw out of Statehouse Republican lawmakers in all of 2023.
The fact that this is a matter of life and death is obvious to those of us who know and love and care about trans and other LGBTQ+ people in our lives. I’ve heard too many awful stories. My heart has been broken over and over knowing what those in my LGBTQ+ family have had to endure: the fear, the lack of safety, the horror stories of pain, violence, and rejection from a society that has historically not given a damn about us or our lives.
But our LGBTQ+ family is strong. We’ve created communities for ourselves. We’ve worked with medical professionals to create health care spaces for ourselves, when much of the rest of the world was dismissing us and laughing at us, even amid the AIDS epidemic. We created spaces for ourselves where we could live in peace, not fearing for our safety and security, but lifting each other up in acceptance and love.
So no matter what happens next week, I want to send a very clear message to my LGBTQ+ family and especially our trans sisters and brothers: You are loved. You are accepted. You are appreciated. You are wanted, needed, and valued in our communities and in our families. Your individuality is a gift, and your lives are precious. I will never abandon you and I will never stop fighting for all of our rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
To our allies, thank you. Truly, thank you. Your strength and alliance carries far more weight than you might conceive.
And to the small-minded, closed-hearted bigots who seek to rob us of our inalienable rights, to scapegoat us, to ostracize us, to “other” us, to exclude us, to lie about us, to victimize us, to use our lives as a political cudgel whether out of cynicism or ignorance — perpetuating or being duped by propaganda: You’ve never cared about us, and we don’t need you, so honestly, why can’t you just leave us alone?
Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
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