While flying to Austin for a meeting the other week, I realized that over the years, I have formed a rather biased opinion about Texas without ever having been there. J.R. from Dallas, an episode of Charlie’s Angels where Kelly and Chris go undercover as Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders to take down a conniving southern belle murderess (aptly played by Audrey Landers), the big boss in the white suit from Smokey and the Bandit with his little side-kick, and of course George W. Bush have all been instrumental piecing together a rather negative opinion of “the great state of Texas.” Gas guzzlers, ten-gallon hats and bull horns on Cadillacs all race through my mind when I think of Texas.
My opinion on Texas has of course been tempered over the years. My folks went to Corpus Christi in the 80′s, and they came back in one piece. My friends Susan, Eden, and Steve are all from Texas, and they’re good fun. Ann Richards was a Texan and I admired her. Michelle Shocked, Nanci Griffith, and sexy Matthew McConoughy all come from Texas, so clearly Texas can’t be such a bad place.
Still as a man from north of the Mason-Dixon line with limited exposure to people south of that divide, I find my preconceived prejudices are difficult at best to overcome, and stereotypical images of Texas, Inc. fly in the face of many of my own values. “Everything’s Big in Texas!” embodies the overall excesses that Americans have become famous for: big land, big cars, and an unapologetic attitude against economy. While this behavior happens all over the US, when it is coupled with “Good Ol Boys” and “Don’t Mess with Texas
” bumper stickers, it’s hard to separate the wheat from the chaff.
It was on my flight from Chicago to Austin that once again, I was forced to reconsider my anti-Texas sentiment. Seated next to me was an incredibly talented photographer, Nathan Addison , a photojournalist who also shoots weddings. Nathan is from Texas and lives in Austin. Like all my friends from Texas have already pointed out, Austin is different than the rest of Texas. It’s got the Capitol, a university, great music, great bars and culture. A bastion of liberalism in the red sea of Texas.
Nathan was returning from shooting a wedding in Virginia. His compact flash cards had been acting up, so we commiserated about the stress that corrupt cards create and discussed some trouble-shooting tips for PhotoRescue, an amazing application that has saved a number of my own shoots. Nathan also carried a floppy teddy bear. While at first it seemed odd for a grown man to be holding stuffed toy, when I asked what the bear’s name was, he said he didn’t know, as it was his four-year-old son’s bear. No further explanation was required, as his smile said it all. Traveling with the bear was a sweet reminder of his wife and son waiting for him to return home. We discussed photography, our families and politics. We even discovered our shared passion for long distance running. What? Could this be yet another Texan that appeared perfectly normal? Indeed, I forced to accept that my imagination is far more biased than when faced with reality. Nathan and I exchanged emails and he sent me on my way with a few top tips for my Austin visit.
When I got to my hotel, the Renaissance Hotel Austin, it definitely lived up to my expectations of Texas: it was a huge hotel with a large entrance and an even bigger center atrium. My room was spacious and clean and the bed looked like it could sleep ten. What a change from compact London, particularly since Lee and I have been in the middle of the dusty job of restoring our Victorian home. Ahhhhh….it was nice to be in America. I’m such a hypocrite!
On my last evening in town, I decided to venture out and see the city. Austin, in an odd sort of way, reminded of St. Paul. A smattering of old buildings interspersed with skyscrapers. What struck me most was the number of parking lots in the middle of the city. My cab driver had suggested a few sites to see, but it was clear that the Austin bats were a great place to start.
The Congress Bridge Bats
The cabbie dropped me off at Congress Bridge, and I made my way down to Lady Bird Lake where a small crowd was beginning to form–all waiting for the bats. There was a family sitting on the grassy hillside, and I asked them if they knew when the bats would be out. Like me, they were on their first visit to Austin and had no idea when the bats would emerge. I ventured along the path under the bridge where I chatted with a woman from New York. She too wasn’t sure what time the bats would come out. She had an old Nikon camera and was shooting film, a proud luddite through and through.
A woman on her evening walk passed by and mentioned that the bats didn’t start stirring until quite late, probably 9:45 at the earliest. It was only 7:00, so I opted to take a walk around town. Back up to the street, I headed north on Congress Avenue to see the Capitol Building. It was a lovely walk. The heat of the day had soaked into the buildings and pavement, and as the sun went down, they continued to emanate warmth. It wasn’t too humid, so I figured I was lucky.
My first observation was how empty the street was. Though there were a few people on foot, by and large, most of the people whizzed by in their cars, and even then, it seemed pretty quiet. A nice change from the madness of London. Venturing up the east side of the street, I passed a number of little shops, freshly closed for the evening. I hit a bit of a crowd when I came to the theatre. It was the premier of new movie and the star himself there wearing a smart hat and looking very Hollywood in this Texas town.
Coming to the itself, I looked for the steps where Charles Durning sang that fantastic song, Dance a Little Sidestep in the Best Little Whorehouse in Texas. Sadly, the steps too were just Hollywood, leaving me to hum the little number in front of a ground level entrance.
Wandering the grounds in the twilight, I was struck by the prominent Civil War memorial , commemorating the soldiers who fought and died during the war between the States. What stood out the most was the language used to describe the war. Nowhere did the word “slavery” appear and I don’t recall the terms Confederate or Union either; the only commented on States Rights.
Upon reading this, it was the first time that I really considered the Civil War as a battle over States Rights. I suppose my history teachers had impressed upon me that this was a driving force behind the conflict, but for me, and probably a sizable population, the conflict was much more basic–not the rights of States, but the rights of individuals who are part of a State. In preserving the Union, the Federal Government established what I believe is one of the most important aspects of the US society—creating a civil liberties baseline for its citizens of what will and will not be tolerated across the land.
On a general level, yes, individual States should have authority to determine laws governing their domains; however, the beauty of the Federal government is its ability to regulate issues that transcend regional boundaries, creating the overarching fabric that defines America. Whether we agree or disagree with every aspect of patchwork, by and large it forms a collective security blanket.
While back in the States, two topics, both concerning States Rights dominated the media. In Arizona, the legislation ordering immigrants to carry their alien registration documents at all times, and authorizing police to question people if there’s reason to suspect they’re in the United States illegally was looming; while in California, the debate over gay marriage heated up as the referendum faced a tough appeal, this time to a federal court. While the Arizona situation certainly raises a number of questions about the overall pallor of America (e.g. ethnicity), it should come as no surprise that the court’s action in California comes a bit closer to home for me.
It has been four years since Lee and I moved back to Britain. We met at the end of 2002 and have been together ever since. Lee moved to Seattle with me in the fall of 2003 on a student visa, but when his course was completed and he finished a year of practical experience, he was forced to return to the UK because US immigration doesn’t recognize same-sex couples for visa reasons.
At that time, we hired an immigration attorney in Seattle to explore our options for Lee and I to remain in the US together. After an hour of consultation, we left knowing our prospects for remaining in the US were depressing: we couldn’t get a partner or fiancé visa, the H1 Visas had already been divvied up for the upcoming year, and the only options we had were to either get him an E visa or marry him off to a woman.
The E Visa is an investor visa, but for us even that was out of reach. The visa allows a UK citizens with “a substantial amount of money” into America under the premise that they invest that money and hold 51% or more equity in it. We had to show the cash up front, provide a business plan and then the US government would consider granting such a visa.We asked how much a “substantial amount of money” was, and our attorney indicated that this was a gray area, with $300,000 being the bare minimum. While this figure may not cause much trouble for some, neither Lee nor I had a spare $300k just lying around. We thought about selling Lee’s flat in London and using the cash as seed money, but as there was no guarantee that US immigration would grant a visa at all, the risk was too high. By then the flat would be sold, he’d be off the UK property ladder, and we would be forced to move back to Britain without a place to go.
Next we considered finding Lee a wife to secure a spouse visa. We eyed a couple of good candidates and even had a cursory offer; however, after full deliberation of the potential consequences of “Marriage Fraud,” we decided remaining in the States wasn’t in the cards and resigned ourselves to having a great last year in the US and then return to Lee’s home country. In contrast to the US policy, the UK has two visas for same-sex couples, an unmarried partner visa or a civil partner visa—both of which provide the same immigration rights to same-sex partners as heterosexual couples.
In the year after we completed our education, our Seattle-based businesses took off, but we knew our time there would ultimately come to an end and we would have to pack our bags and return to the UK–not that London is a horrible place at the end of the world, but when you find your stride and then are forced to give it up, the prospect of starting can be a bit disheartening. Together we adopted the British “stiff upper lip,” and in the summer of 2006, we packed what we could, sold what we couldn’t carry, and then retreated to London.
As the sun dipped behind the horizon, and the words on the Civil War monument faded into dark, I glanced at my watch. 9:30—only fifteen minutes until the bats would. Down Congress Avenue and back to Lady Bird Lake. When I got to the bridge, a group of Segway tourists had just pulled in and were waiting. The crowd, which had been relatively empty an hour earlier, was lined with observers waiting for the bats to emerge. I passed the revelers at TGI Fridays and found a place nestled next to a group of school teachers from across the country who were in Austin attending a leadership conference at the University. We shared some idle chit-chat about where we were all from and our impressions of Austin, all the while, our eyes were transfixed on the bridge.
Back in 2004, when Lee and I were still in Seattle, like so many others in the US, we were taken by Barack Obama’s speech at the Democratic National Conference. Powerful, moving, insightful and invigorating were the adjectives used to describe this great man. Why isn’t HE the nominee we mused, particularly when comparing him to the milquetoast candidate they chose. Still, as the years progressed and Obama won the nomination and then the presidency, I was haunted by my own prejudice—that of being a liberal who doesn’t trust other liberals.
In January 2008, I was back in the US for a few days. While there I watched the debate between Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama and noted their distinct silence on gay rights. At the time, as an American living in the UK, I was constantly questioned by my British friends whom I supported for President—Hillary or Obama? Though the battle would ultimately be between a Democrat and a Republican, to socially progressive Brits, Hillary and Obama were the only two options. At the time I openly discussed my disappointment with both Hillary and Obama on their silence, and even pondered voting Republican. McCain was emerging as the candidate and I took comfort in his opposition to the federal ban on same-sex marriage. Giuliani also seemed like a viable option, particularly based upon his noted friendship with out gays. My thinking was quite simple–liberals do a fantastic job showing empathy for a cause, but when their feet are held to the fire, they always seem to be the first to scream and run the other way.
A perfect example of fair weather liberals is Senator Patty Murray. A long standing Washington Senator from Seattle, Murray was elected a socially progressive “mom in tennis shoes.” She touted equality and great things on the campaign trail, but when push came to shove, she donned those sneakers and left us high and dry by voting for the Defense of Marriage Act back in 1996. Since then she continues to hem and haw about equality, but quite frankly when when my Washington State ballot came in last week, I filled it in all but in her race. I couldn’t vote for her with a clear conscience. When Lee and I were in the process of trying to sort out his visa, I put a call into her Seattle and Washington offices and both times was promised a call back, but none came. I filled in the online form and SIX MONTHS LATER, I got an autoreply about Mexican Immigration issues. Again I called to set the record straight with her DC office, and again I spoke with someone who promised a call from the Senator herself. Funny, I’ve been waiting now for four years. I wonder if she has misplaced my number.
OK…so I’ve had my rant. Patty Murray–boo.
This all brings us back to Obama. When push came to shove in the election, I did side with Obama. I listened to his platitudes of , “I believe marriage should be between a man and a woman” knowing full well that it was a delicate line to keep his constituency while hoping not to piss off the rest of the electorate. When he as elected I did have great expectations for what his Presidency might hold, particularly for Lee and me. When he won the majority in the House and the Senate, for a brief moment, I could actually envision them actually doing something progressive to help gays and lesbians across the country.
I saw a couple of bats fly out. Zoom. Zoom. Then nothing. The night got a bit darker. Zoom. Zoom. Zoom. A few more. The crowd tittered when three or more bats exited the bridge. “It is going to be soooooo fantastic!” squealed one of the teachers. I saw it about fifteen years ago and it was just like a giant cloud. We waited.
After the election of Obama, we waited. The recession, the war in Afghanistan, Iran’s nuclear capabilities, more of the recession filled the news and clearly the President had a lot on his plate. The gays could wait. They have waited a long time, they helped usher him into the White House and they would be there again in 2012.
Zoom. Zoom. Two more bats flew overhead. “That one nearly hit me,” said the teacher from Alabama. Zoom. Zoom. And then there was a break. No more bats. A few people started to pick up their blankets and bottles. Zoom. One by one, the crowd began to dwindle. “Let’s get a margarita,” one of the teachers suggested. “That is a great idea,” said Marcy from Michigan. Zoom.
Over the course of the last two years, I have kept faith. Though I shed tears of joy at the election of Obama, it became clear that it wasn’t because of him personally, but rather what change he MIGHT be able to affect through his judicial appointments. Zoom.
Cheryl from California and Abbey from Alabama and I were the last three on the shore. As the last remnants of sunlight disappeared, they said their goodbyes, leaving me alone on the bank of Lady Bird Lake looking for bats. Zoom. Zoom. Zoom. Zoom. Zoom. Zoom. It was a small spectacle of bats, just for me. Nothing on the scale a giant plume, but enough to make me smile.
At last I got tired of waiting for that mythical cloud of bats. I what I came for, I got to see a bunch of bats—still, I was left a bit disappointed. I made my way back up the bridge and to a bar called Oil Can Harry’s, a gay bar not far from the bridge. While ordering a beer, my bartender cheerfully asked how my night had been. “It was OK. I was at the bridge looking for the bats.” “Oh,” as his smile faded. “I did that once. It just stank of piss and it was too dark. Still, I saw some bats. $4 please.” I handed him a twenty and waited for my change.
I appreciated his candor and willingness to tell it as it was. While kicking back my pint on my last night in Texas, I sifted through the events of the last couple of days. Lovely people, complicated history, media stereotypes and the reality of it all. No one was bad. No one was really larger than life. The people I met were just regular folks getting on with their day, but magically we all came together to try and witness something special. The gay and lesbian community is now very much like the crowd on Congress Bridge, we’re all just trying to get on with our day but also hoping to share something special. Lee and I certainly are. At the same time, we’ve come to accept that although the platitudes may trickle out, we still haven’t seen that plume of bats billowing into the night. While I would surely welcome it, I’m sure there are plenty of bat-o-phobics out there who would fear such an onslaught would only be a premonition for the end of marriage as they know it. Straight people still get married in Massachusetts, don’t they? Has Boston experienced the Rapture yet?
So now here I sit, back in London waiting for the bats. I have heard their little noises. I have seen signs of movement. I’ve even experienced what the plume of equality can mean, thanks to the British government. That all said, I still hold hope that someday in my lifetime I will see the plume of bats emerge in their full and beautiful glory.
It gives me great pleasure to know that finally, FINALLY! the issue of gay marriage has been addressed in a Federal court. It is a first step. Zoom. Will it result in a plume? I cannot say.
