The Republican National Convention in Cleveland made history, but just what kind is still up for debate. Never before had a national convention featured LGBTQ rights in such a prominent yet simultaneously bewildering play.
The default setting for lesbian, gay, transgender and queer Americans is “liberal,” and most of us will stay that way until the right proves it has anything to tempt us (discrete postings to the Casual Encounters section of the Cleveland Craigslist page aside). Cleveland could have been a bright opportunity for the Republicans to prove that they have something to offer. But the conservative — and exclusively male — gays who were given the podium could hardly be considered a credit to the cause.
Peter Thiel, the Silicon Valley entrepreneur and cofounder of PayPal, began his speech with a declaration of pride. It might have been a moment of accomplishment had Thiel not a minute later reduced the dialogue to a conversation about toilets: “Now we are told that the great debate is about who gets to use which bathroom,” Thiel said.
Gay provocateur and conservative blogger Milo Yiannopoulos hosted a “Gays for Trump” rally hours after being permanently banned from Twitter for his virulently racist remarks against actress Leslie Jones. Yiannopoulos then lost no time in arguing that censorship and the inclusivity of the left promotes Islamic extremism.
The biggest remarks came from party bigwigs.
“If our enemies had their way, gays, lesbians and transgender citizens would be put to death as they are today in the Islamic State and Iran,” said former speaker of the house Newt Gingrich in his own half-assed gesture of acknowledgement. It’s unclear exactly what Gingrich was hoping for with that remark, other than perhaps to remind LGBTQ Americans that we should feel fortunate we cannot legally be done away with.
And then there was Pence.
Pence’s record on gay rights is abysmal. He opposed a bill that would ban discrimination against LGBTQ individuals in the workplace. He opposed the repeal of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, and he supported the Religious Freedom Restoration Act (RFRA), which permitted businesses to deny services to customers on the basis of their sexual orientation and gender identity. Speaking as a representative on the floor of the US House of Representatives in 2006, Pence favored a constitutional amendment to define marriage as existing only between a man and a woman. “It wasn’t our idea; it was God’s idea,” he said — a sentiment he later echoed during the state’s brief-lived resistance to marriage equality.
Pence believes in a God who can create or at least permit the cosmos and everything within it, from electrons to black holes to Bundt cake, but who can make love travel only on a single path.
Pence likes to identify himself as a “Christian, a conservative and a Republican, in that order.” Yet his reasons for denying LGBTQ equality show an astounding lack of faith, imagination and critical thought. He can believe in a God who can create or at least permit the cosmos and everything within it, from electrons to black holes to Bundt cake, but who can make love travel only on a single path. As a political statement, Pence’s defense holds up as well as “Devil made me do it.”
The rights of LGBTQ Americans cannot be given equal treatment to the testament of God. For one thing, our existence is provable. For another, God does not vote.
Pence was notably silent on the question of gay rights during the convention. Whether it was a personal choice or a party decision, it was a smart move. We’ve generally reached a point as a nation where silence can be interpreted as acceptance until action proves otherwise. It doesn’t do any good to demand loyalty oaths and that every straight man and woman proclaim themselves an ally, but it means a hell of a lot more coming from someone in power. And if you’re going to talk about gay rights on the national stage, you’d better be coming out for them. It’s doubtful that Pence is about to do any such thing.
The VP candidate aside, the Republican party is making moves toward acceptance, but acceptance is not enough. Acceptance of LGBTQ Americans is among the easier ways to seem radically inclusive by adopting the status quo. Like changing a profile picture, it’s a lazy way of gaining cool points, without really stirring controversy. For those who dwell upon the rainbow, we’re not about to congratulate anyone just for saying they’ve come to terms with our existence. Coming out as a straight ally in 2016 packs as much clout as coming out in support of women’s suffrage in the 1960s. We need more than allies, and we need advocates.
For his own two cents, Trump declared he would “do everything in [his] power to protect our LGBTQ citizens from the violence and oppression of a hateful foreign ideology.” (This presumably leaves the same citizens fair game for the violence and oppression of a hateful domestic ideology.) There was no talk of antidiscrimination legislation and no discussion of gun control. But there was plenty of talk about traditional marriage, conversion therapy and the threat of the Islamic State.
A year after marriage equality and only a month after Orlando, and the best the Republican party could offer is to admit that it’s wrong to kill us.
While it’s tempting to offer some kind words for the GOP’s nominal inclusivity of gays and lesbians in this year’s convention, the only thing the convention did for LGBTQ Americans was mention us. There’s nothing commendable in encouraging a sexual minority to discriminate against a religious one. Cleveland showed that the GOP is less interested in being an advocate for LGBTQ Americans as it is in recruiting one more ally against Islam.
And in this case, sometimes it’s more of an honor not to be considered.
