When I was managing editor of the Daily last spring, we ran an editorial urging New Jersey Gov. Chris Christie not to veto the state's newly passed same-sex marriage bill. I was not surprised when the governor did not adhere to our recommendation, but I was stunned by one response the editorial elicited from within the Tufts community: a letter from a student admonishing us for wasting editorial-page space on "the political happenings of New Jersey" rather than focusing on issues "that directly affect the lives of students on campus."
The student who wrote the letter had no way of knowing that the author of the editorial - me - had come out as gay not even a month earlier or that he had spent a great deal of time since then obsessing over the kind of life he would lead after graduation. What states could I live in where I had a hope of starting a family? How much would those limitations constrain my job options? Would I ever be able to give my parents the grandchildren about whom my mom had been intermittently badgering me since before I hit puberty?
The answers to these questions may depend, in large part, on the Supreme Court's decisions on the two cases it heard last week. And as thrilled as I am to see so many of my peers come out in support of civil rights, I was disappointed to see the response from some Tufts students echo the argument I first encountered in that letter to the editor: that gay marriage should not be a focus of campus dialogue. They claim that civil rights activists' focus on gay marriage is misguided and that a victory on the matter would not be nearly as meaningful as some LGBT organizations would have us believe.
The counterargument to my indignation is painfully obvious. I'm a white, male Tufts student from a staunchly Democratic family in a staunchly liberal, middle-class New York suburb. Whatever ordeals I'll endure from my status as a gay person will be dwarfed by the magnitude of my privilege. I get that. And I get that I'll never experience the horrors unique to being gay and poor, or gay and black, or gay and from Georgia, or trans.
But marriage rights benefit every member of the LGBT community, not just its most privileged members. Starting a family and providing for it still form the bedrock of the American dream, and it is absolutely central to the LGBT rights movement. It's hard to fathom the American people moving forward on other issues confronting the LGBT community - such as homelessness, violence and job discrimination - without first acknowledging that marital bonds and familial commitments founded on homosexual love are equal to those based on heterosexual love.
Ever since the United States elected a black president, there's been a temptation to declare settled the matter of black civil rights, and there's a risk that the same complacency will take over among LGBT advocates once marriage rights are achieved. It's important to remember that these Supreme Court cases are the beginning, not the end, of a fight. They can pave the way for other changes much in the way that Brown v. Board of Education (1954) helped launch the black civil rights movement.
To me, a Supreme Court victory would be an acknowledgment that the family I hope to start is as legitimate as anyone else's. That's hardly an exhaustive measure of progress, but it's a dream shared by millions of other Americans. If that day comes, even bearing in mind all the progress we won't have yet made, I hope you'll be celebrating with us rather than telling us how hollow our victory is.
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Craig Frucht is a senior majoring in political science and psychology. He can be reached at Craig.Frucht@tufts.edu.
