“Well, you can count on me to do my part. I’m ready to kick some—” I stopped. Mom would not like that kind of talk at all. “I’m ready to do anything that needs to be done to get this thing voted down.” No rights for she-men. No rights for gays. No rights for boys who can’t even pass a simple driver’s license test.
A fleeting thought… “Quit your whining! So you failed. You act as if it’s the end of the world.” That was Mal creeping into my brain. And I didn’t need her right then. Inside, I barked at her, “Go away.” She was not the boss of me, and I was not about to forget this horrible day.
“Great attitude, baby. We need more kids like you. Now, Jacob, go get dressed.”
“I am dressed.” I had on my Wranglers, one of my Chuy’s shirts, and my boots.
“No.” She almost never told me no, especially when it came to my clothes. “We decided we wanted to look unified. Everyone’s going to be in white tops and dark bottoms. So put on a dress shirt and your black slacks.”
I groaned and trudged back in the direction of my room. But if that was the official ass-kicking uniform, so be it.
“And wear your dress shoes!” she called out.
Were we going over there to mix it up with the gays or serve them dinner?
I returned in a few minutes, decked out in the uniform of the day, my waiter’s best, to find Mom straightening her good black skirt.
“Perfect, Jakie! You ready now?”
I nodded.
We headed down to the parking lot with Mom talking a mile a minute. I looked back and forth, to and fro, scoping out a lurking Finn. I wanted to be forewarned if he was there. I would avoid him at any cost.
“Get ready for a fight. We’re going to show the mayor and her minions that we mean business. God-fearing Christians will be heard tonight. In a big, big way. We are not going to be ignored on this. This anti-God, pervert-loving ordinance is going down.”
I liked her resolve. This thing had to be stopped. And if it took God-fearing Christians, even though that’s not me, to bring it down, then so be it.
She held the car keys out. I held up my hand. “You can drive.”
“Are you sure? I would love to be chauffeured tonight by my handsome son.”
Your handsome gay son who is so screwed up he fucked up the one thing he’d been looking forward to forever. I was never going to drive again.
“You do the driving,” I said. And she shrugged.
As she took us downtown, she talked nonstop. “I’ve got our signs in the trunk. Reverend Stillmore said he’d meet us at four sharp. I can’t wait. We’re going to make a difference for the Lord today!”
Normally I’d be annoyed with her chatter. But at that point, I was glad because it kept me from thinking. I’d been doing that all day, despite my feast of trash TV to avoid it, and I wanted relief.
She headed up Lower Westheimer to hang a left toward downtown. I couldn’t help but think about the irony. We were peacefully driving through the heart of Houston’s gay neighborhood on our way to kick some gay butt.
I was enjoying that thought, so I quit registering Mom’s tower of babel. Something about “fight fire with fire; make some noise; push our way through.”
She found the Genesis parking lot with no trouble. There was already a crowd of white-on-black clothed protestors gathering. It looked like an angry mob of restaurant servers, a strike for better tips. We disembarked, Mom spitting fire as she rushed to the trunk. She began pulling signs from it as her friends hurried over to take them from her, one by one.
As promised, Eyewitness News was there. I recognized the reporter, who was doing a live feed to the four o’clock news. As we walked up to Reverend Stillmore, I overheard, “What was planned as a rally to boost enthusiasm for the Houston Gay Rights Ordinance may promise to be a tense situation. The other faction—those who want HERO deposed—are starting to gather here at Genesis Church on Texas Avenue. After a march to city hall, where their opponents are already assembling, there on the lawn in front of the mayor’s office, these folks here will complete an old-fashioned we said/they said debate situation. The mayor and her supporters, including several prominent citizens and members of city council had planned this event to show support and to counter what they term ‘outrageous rhetoric that is just not true.’ The event had largely gone unnoticed, except among those in the gay community, until word got out that a campaign against HERO was being brought out here this afternoon. Now, it is unclear how this will all play out. We will have an update on our six o’clock broadcast, and as always, we’ll bring you breaking news when it happens. This is Mindy Bajaj, Eyewitness News.”
“And we’re clear,” I heard the cameraman say.
As Stillmore held out his hand for me to shake, I was struck by how many people had turned out for this thing. If there were indeed strength in numbers, then this group was mighty strong.
“I’m so glad you’ve joined us, Jacob,” intoned Reverend Stillmore. I’m not sure if the man was capable of speaking in a normal voice. He always sounded like he was in the pulpit. “We can always use young people to help spread the word of God.”
I managed to control my gag reflex by looking away from him. I was never in the pastor’s presence that he didn’t turn my stomach. I wasn’t there to spread any of his God shit. I was there to show that normal people do not support perversion.
With a bullhorn, the good reverend said, “Okay, folks. Shall we pray and then get on our way?”
I didn’t listen to his prayer. All I could think was, he’s a poet and doesn’t know it. I’m sure Mom wouldn’t have found that funny at all.
As we approached city hall plaza, the pro group was gathering. Some had a good ten, twenty, or thirty years on me. Others could have been me. Signs said things like Gay Rights Now! and Equal Rights and Banish Hate and Transgenders Have Rights Too and My Daughter Has Rights.
What’s that supposed to mean? Your daughter wants to share the toilet with a man? She likes being molested? All those other signs made sense to me. I didn’t agree with them, but they made sense. But My Daughter Has Rights?
I saw someone I didn’t expect directly across. D’Andre. My team member. The guy who came on to me. He held a sign that read, Equal Rights for All.
I felt like he had knifed my gut, then twisted it. This fight had just become personal. That morning, I had been a total loser, but this evening, I would be the victor.
I was so fucking mad that I took a deep breath, hoping to calm down before I burst a blood vessel. It didn’t help. How dare he show up here. Right across from me. Spewing his crap.
Our group moved closer and closer to theirs. The grassy plaza was filling up. The mayor and her group were on the steps in front of the crowd. There was a great divide between the two factions, philosophically and physically, but the physical gap was closing just because of the sheer numbers showing up.
A tension swelled, a heat that was palpable.
I scanned our group. Sticking out like a sore thumb was a beer-bellied, cigar-chomping redneck who hoisted a sign overhead that read God Hates Fags. He was definitely not there with us, because our signs were fairly innocent, compared to the nastiness this guy was displaying.
Reverend Stillmore must have seen it the same time I did because he stepped over to the guy.
“Take that down,” he commanded. I suddenly found some respect for the reverend. He might be antigay, but he apparently had some sense. He didn’t want his church associated with this goon’s open disdain. Whether good PR or a true feeling in his heart that God didn’t really hate “fags,” Reverend Stillmore got my vote in this minibattle with the redneck.
“Who’s going to make me?” the guy shouted. “I gotta right to be here, and I gotta right to my opinion.”
“I’m going to tell you one more time to take down that sign.” There were times when that preacher voice came in handy. Reverend Stillmore sounded like he meant business.
“Or what?”
“You
don’t attend our church, do you?” He sounded almost benevolent again. “And you don’t know our deacons, I’m sure. But two of them you may have seen on television. Do the names Duval and Carter mean anything to you? The Christian trial lawyers? Perhaps you’ve seen their commercials.”
The guy just stood there, totally defiant.
“Now, I don’t know if you have a right to hold up that sign or not. I’m not a Bill of Rights scholar, as you claim to be. But you see, the Duval/Carter law firm knows everything there is to know about constitutional law. And all I have to do is make a call. You might win in the end—like I said, I’m not a lawyer. I’m just a humble preacher—but I would bet that Tom Duval and Jackson Carter can keep you tied up in motions, court appearances, and legal maneuvers for two or three years. My church has the resources to pay for all that. Do you?” He paused to let it all sink in. Then he smiled. “Now, brother, don’t you want to get rid of that sign?”
The guy slowly lowered his handiwork, rolled it up tightly, and slunk away.
I was glad Stillmore did that. He defused a volatile situation. All we needed was for a riot to break out.
I kept an eye on D’Andre. He was mesmerized by the mayor and hadn’t seen me.
The mayor spoke. Her voice reverberated through huge loudspeakers.
“We’re glad to see this unexpected crowd. The more people who listen to us, the easier it will be to keep HERO on the books.” She spoke with genial authority. I could see why she’d been voted into office so many times.
D waved his sign, whistled, whooped.
“There’s been so much said about this ordinance. Both positive and negative. I believe that our good citizens will prevail. HERO will become the law in Houston. It is a good thing. Not only will all our citizens gain newfound, local protection and rights, but Houston will be seen as a city that practices what it preaches. We are already one of the most diverse cities in the nation. We shelter people of all ethnicities, all religions, and yes, all sexual orientations. HERO offers protections to all these classes plus punishes discrimination based on age, gender, disability, pregnancy, and even military status. That’s a good thing.”
A faceless voice shouted from our faction, “But that’s already protected by federal laws.”
The mayor flashed her toothy, “let me kiss your baby” smile. “You’re right. About some things. But this goes beyond federal protections, plus it adds a layer of protection for the federally protected rights. It will make it easy to prosecute and ultimately stop discriminatory behavior.
“Nowhere in our country where an ordinance or law like this has been passed has suffered.
“And be very aware of this—the nation is watching. My office has already been contacted by several groups who have explored bringing meetings here, worried that their gay employees will be harassed if HERO fails. Businesses looking at property in our city have expressed concern that we won’t be an open environment for their own expressly stated nondiscrimination policies. And finally, sports leagues are even grumbling that they may lose money if their fans are afraid to come to Houston for games. Is this the image we want to promote?”
Her followers let out a collective roar in support. D hung on her every word, a premature triumphant smile gashing his face as he joined his friends’ battle cry, “Yes equal rights! Yes equal rights!”
A slow rumble started among those on our side. It rose to a roar. “No equal rights! No equal rights!”
Houston Police moved between us and them and just stood. After a minute of shouting, the crowd uneasily calmed.
The mayor started to speak once again, and the police officers retreated to the sidelines. “We all know this ordinance can bring out strong emotions, positive and negative. Please, let us maintain our—”
She was interrupted by Reverend Stillmore’s bullhorn. “And what do you say about the safety of our daughters? Our wives? Are they to tolerate men in their restrooms?”
The mayor was unflappable. “That, sir, is a total falsehood, concocted by those who oppose gay rights. They felt they couldn’t kill the idea of human rights for all, so they latched on to a notion that is not even part of HERO. Yes HERO will grant those who are transitioning to use the public facility where they feel the most comfortable. But I remind you that men going into women’s restrooms to commit crimes has always been illegal. They, these people who are spouting lies, simply want to bring this ordinance down.” She paused and stared.
She used the word “they,” but it was obvious she knew Stillmore was the loudest voice spouting the fact that women would not feel safe if they shared a bathroom with men in dresses.
The crowd broke into chaos. Her supporters cheered her on. The pastor’s supporters revved him up.
“It’s an abomination,” Stillmore roared through his megaphone. That word again.
“What, sir? Being gay? I assure you we are normal and sane.” She said that like we, her opponents, were insane. “And as for the transgender-rights clause you go on about. I repeat, it doesn’t exist. And criminals don’t have to dress up to commit their crimes. If they want to attack women in a public toilet, they will just do it. All we’re doing is trying to make all our law-abiding citizens comfortable.”
Again the crowd roared, some in support, some in protest. Some on each side even tried to start the “Yes Equal Rights/No Equal Rights” thing again, but most wanted to hear her response as she continued.
“Sir,” she added, “this idea you and your followers cling to is founded on nothing but fear. But I tell you, these transgendered citizens walk in fear every moment of every day. All they want is acceptance, yet there are those out there who want to harm them. Hurt them for being who they are.”
That set everyone off. It was as if her opponents hadn’t heard a word she said. I heard her message. I even almost believed her. But I saw D’Andre and thought of the last twenty-four hours of my life. The combination propelled me. I shouted right along with the naysayers, the good Christians.
As the crowd became more and more unruly, I saw, through the building chaos, someone I never expected to see. Across the way stood Alex. She had two fingers between her lips, whistling, with the other hand holding a sign that blared, Let the girls pee!
Before I could even try to get to her, to tell her she didn’t belong in this madhouse, that this was something she couldn’t possibly understand, coming from a different place and all, a verbal riot broke out.
The HPD officers returned to the middle, but they had a hard time controlling what was happening.
The shouting got louder and louder. The call for equality—“Yes equal rights!”—rose once again, bursting from the crowd, screaming their perverted cry of liberty.
Our side retaliated with their countercry. I felt like a long dormant volcano erupting. I ranted, “No equal rights! No equal rights! No equal rights!” The chant was boiling inside me. I bellowed the black smoke and spewed the flaming lava of my message. D saw me and broke through the police phalanx. He ran up to me, and an inch from my face, he shouted, “Yes equal rights! Yes equal rights!” over and over and over.
My anger became a frenzy. His voice echoed in the stifling July heat. And I roiled, each “Yes equal rights!” branding me, making me ready for a fight, wanting a battle, aching to bring this to a head.
I heard Reverend Stillmore say, “Be peaceful for the Lord. But stand your ground.” I don’t know if he was talking to me or if he was making a general statement. At that point, I didn’t know what the crowd was doing. I just wanted D and his “Yes equal rights!” to stop. To get away from me.
I wanted to beat him into the ground. I would stop his “love me like I’m normal” shit. I was not normal. I’d thought I was for a fleeting moment. But normal people don’t live in fear. Normal people don’t fail tests they can easily pass.
My fist balled up, my arm jerked back, and I cracked his chin. He was stunned, but only for a brief moment. He came at me, knocking me to the ground. He was hammering th
e shit out of me. I struggled to turn him over as the crowd parted, stunned at what was happening.
Suddenly two cops pulled us apart.
Struggling to break free of the cop, D screamed, “You ought to be ashamed of yourself.” He broke from the policeman’s grasp. He stood perfectly still. So still that the cop seemed to hesitate—he started to grab him, then stopped. “Look at us. Fighting over something we should agree on. We’re not like them.” He pointed to the crowd, the older people, the Christian fanatics, the hundreds sporting Proud to Be Gay T-shirts. I got his message. D and I were team members. We should be acting like it. We shouldn’t be here fighting each other. “We’re alike, you and I. We will lead this nation someday. People like us, you and me.” What he said wasn’t specific. He was not telling the world that he and I both were gay. But I knew that’s what he meant. “Our whole lives, it’s been drilled into us everyone has rights. Yet, here we are. We should be brothers, you and I. But you’re full of nothing but hatred. You should be ashamed.”
And I was. How did I let myself into this? I had no reason to punch D. If anything, he should have let me have it, not with his words but his fist. I deserved it. He didn’t.
A policeman turned to follow him as I shouted, “No, officer.” The patrolman turned back to me. “Let him go. I know him. We go to school together. He’s one of the good guys.” A giant leap for that to come out of my mouth. But the officer looked at me with wonder, and then he shrugged. “All right, folks, time to go home,” he said.
Mom, who had fallen to my side, looked at me like I was crazy. “Jakie, you’re bleeding. We’ve got to get you to the hospital. And that boy needs to be arrested,” she said sternly. She pressed her palm onto my forehead. “Look at this gash.”
“I’m fine. Let’s just go home.” I hurt, but the pain wasn’t physical. I was ashamed. I was wondering if I ever could forgive myself. I was wondering if Finn, if Alex, if Mal, would ever forgive me. I wanted to get up, go home, crawl into bed, forget this horrible day. But the defeat I felt kept me lying on the ground.
Titanic Summer Page 21
