It's incredibly difficult being queer in the South. I have thankfully never experienced discrimination or harassment as a gay man and while some of that lies in my privilege as white, gay, and middle class, I take it as a sign that attitudes may finally be shifting. Legislative attitudes, however, lag far behind in my home state of Kentucky.
Much like other conservative states, Kentucky has experienced a painful lurch to the right during the Obama years. During campaign season television ads leave you with the impression that the candidate is running against President Obama himself rather the person on the other side. We even elected Republican (and Yankee) Matt Bevin as governor last fall despite his plans to tear apart our extremely successful implementation of the Affordable Care Act. This came as a shock due to Kentucky's reputation as a stronghold for Southern Democrats in state politics.
Also much like other red states, numerous anti-LGBT* bills have been proposed in the backlash to progress made for national LGBT* rights. It's more than just Kim Davis here. After reading about the handful of extremely harmful bills proposed during this General Assembly, I decided to reach out to my state representative. I wanted to be heartfelt, nonpartisan, and as open as I could possibly be to my Republican, pro-life, NRA-approved, "family values" espousing state representative Kim King. This is what I sent her:
I write to you today out of desperation. Until recently I have been able to make peace with differences in opinion over LGBTQ rights that I find in my community and in the Kentucky legislature. I realize that these beliefs are as sincerely held as my own and are often rooted in an individual's interpretation of their own religious texts. While these opposing opinions often come at my expense as an openly gay man, I remind myself of the Martin Luther King, Jr. quote, "The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice." However, with the litany of bills proposed in the Kentucky House and Senate these past few weeks, I am beginning to realize that this same moral arc will likely extend beyond my lifetime.
As a 24-year-old, I have come to accept in my adulthood that cultural attitudes will always lag behind in my home state, but I had hoped that at least legislative attitudes would ensure the recognition of my rights and protections as an equal citizen. This legislative session dispelled this hope.
Senate Bill 180 would allow for discrimination of LGBTQ individuals across the state and in the eight communities that have voted to protect these citizens with fairness ordinances. It is also redundant in its protections of religious people, as those measures exist in abundance already.
Senate Bill 5 creates a "separate but equal" situation for same-sex marriages with its two different marriage license forms (unless amended). This sentiment is only extended by Representative Fischer's egregious proposals in House Bills 571 and 572 which seek to create distinctions between marriage and "matrimony" across all Kentucky law. Finally, House Bill 364 misdirects good intentions at tackling bullying in schools and instead takes aim at transgender children who already feel unsafe and unprotected. I am honestly appalled at the breadth of efforts to create distinctions in the law that label me and other LGBTQ Kentuckians as separate and unequally protected citizens.
I am a proud Kentuckian and my family's roots in Washington County extend as far back as family memory can go. I was fortunate enough to attend Transylvania University on a full tuition scholarship and graduate with a BA in Psychology, and this fall I am excited to return to Boston University to complete my master's degree in Gastronomy/Food Studies.
I had to return last year halfway through my degree to take care of my father's estate after his passing. I don't list my accomplishments to brag on myself, but to highlight the fact that I feel I'm gaining knowledge and skills that could really positively impact my community and my state. I hope to work in a nonprofit or local government organization aimed at promoting healthier cultural relationships with food and to promote local food cultures and landscapes.
After having lived in another state for some time and returning to Kentucky, I now understand more deeply the value of living near your family but simultaneously I learned the value of living in a state that values me in its legislation. Currently I'm left with the feeling that I'm not welcome in my own home state and with the feeling I'm being legislated out of it.
I have yet to have a representative in state or national government that I'm 100 percent confident would vote to protect my rights as a minority citizen. It is truly an overwhelming, disheartening position to be in. All of my family resides in central Kentucky and I don't inherently want to move far away from them, but I feel I have no other choice. In this one life I have to live I don't want to live with the fear of being fired from my job and with the knowledge that my state legislature and government sees me, my life, and hopefully my future marriage as lesser than.
I am not alone in this position. Nearly every member of the LGBTQ community I know has some desire to leave Kentucky for states with more inclusive laws. Even good portions of my heterosexual friends lament the antiquated attitudes in Frankfort barring diversity and inclusion of all peoples. I have faith in Kentucky and see its potential, but I am not seeing anything coming from Frankfort to promote and protect young, talented, and progressive pools of people and to entice them to stay and work in and enrich Kentucky. Why wouldn't Kentucky want to disprove its national stereotype and be at the forefront of inclusive social policy? Only good can come from it.
I don't seek special treatment, I really don't. I simply seek equity and justice for myself and for the LGBTQ community. This isn't a war on religion or culture or any rebuttal I hear from the conservative backlash. I'm not asking you compromise anything in your beliefs. I simply want to live and work with the assurances that I am an equal citizen. Will you help ensure that as you vote during this General Assembly?
I thank you for reading my letter, for your time, and for your service to our county and our state. If you have any questions for me or would like to meet either in Frankfort or elsewhere, I am more than open. Thank you again.
Within a few hours, to my surprise, she wrote back:
Alex,
Thank you for sharing your first-hand experiences with me. It's always good to hear from folks in the district. Best wishes as you complete your studies.
Take care,
KimSent from my iPhone
And that's it. I couldn't fathom how dismissive and curt her response was. I tried to tell myself that I should be lucky she even read it or that she was probably busy going from meeting to meeting in Frankfort, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I had been told in politican-speak that she didn't care about me. Here I am, a constituent, being open and honest about the love for my state and the pain I feel from its politics, and I couldn't even get a "bless your heart." There's a way to disagree with someone and still acknowledge the validity of their existence and their opinion. I only hope other politicians see the harm in these bills and vote accordingly. Maybe even Kim will have a change of heart. I have to have faith because she's up for reelection this year and no Democrat is even running against her.
It's hard being queer in the South. It's even harder wondering if your elected officials will ever care about you.