Milk, Obama

In NY, people have perfected the art of ignoring one another. With a population upwards of 8 million, we simply don't have the time or energy to really see each other. But on November 4th, when the election results came in, New York City suddenly became a city of friends. We poured out of bars and apartments, dancing, drumming, and chanting in the streets. If it could be used to make noise, we used it to make noise - cabs honked, trash can lids banged, and thousands of voices chanted "Yes We Did!" and "Obama, Obama, Barak Hussein Obama!" We hugged strangers and high-fived cabbies and pizza delivery guys as they passed. We wept with joy.

Last night I went to see Milk with Cz and Tim. I couldn't help but hear the parallels in the speeches of Harvey Milk and the speeches of Barak Obama. And I couldn't help but notice how similar the exuberance expressed in San Francisco when Milk finally won felt to the exuberance we felt in NYC when Obama was elected president. But mostly I felt sad. Achingly, heartbreakingly sad. The people in the movie seemed so happy, felt so victorious, yet just a few months ago, as we celebrated Obama's victory, Prop 8 passed in California, and the adoption ban for gay couples passed in Arkansas.

In that light, the celebrations of Milk and his supporters seemed heartbreakingly naive. Today, more than 30 years after his election an subsequent assassination, my friends still can't get married, still have to be careful when and where they kiss, still have to face stares and anger should they choose to have children. It makes me wonder what will happen in the next several years. I don't want to downplay what either Barak Obama or Harvey Milk achieved - it is huge, but at the same time, we have such a very long way to go. In twenty years, will we look back on our celebrations of election night and mourn our own naivete? Or will our children raise their eyebrows and shake their heads at what a backwards world their parents lived in?