| | The proposition that could kill me
If you've seen my pictures then you know what I'm about. I'm a die-hard political activist who focuses on gay rights. So you can probably imagine how I felt when I found out Tuesday morning that Proposition 8 was upheld by California's Supreme Court. At first, I was in shock. Complete shock and utter disbelief. Words cannot begin to describe what I felt. I had been waiting for this day to come because I believed that the American justice system would make the right decision concerning gay marriage. And evidently, I was wrong. My hope of better days was shattered.
Then it hit me. It hit me that I was still a second-class citizen who pays taxes, that my fundamental rights as an American were still denied, that I was still unfit in the eyes of California law to marry the person that I love simply because of my sexuality. And then the tears starting coming and soon, they were pouring. I was crying uncontrollably. It felt like I was suffocating and the air was running out. It felt like someone had taken a butcher knife and stabbed me deep in the heart. My pillow became damp and the sobbing didn't stop.
I laid in my bed lifeless that day as if a part of me had died. A million thoughts and emotions ran through me. Disbelief. Injustice. Anger. Victimization. Despair. Frustration. Inequality. The last time I had cried like that was when my grandpa passed away last October. Simply, I was crushed and my spirit had died.
When six o'clock came around, I knew I had to pick myself up and get ready for the protest. If I didn't, I knew I would never be able to forgive myself. I loaded my remade sign and the rope into my car and off I went to West Hollywood. After about twenty minutes of trying to find parking, I finally made it to the heart of the protest at San Vicente and Santa Monica. Literally thousands upon thousands of people were already at the intersection shouting and chanting. The roads were already blocked off and helicopters were circling the area. It seemed as if the world was about to come to an end.
A little over an hour after the protest officially began, we started to march down Santa Monica towards Highland. Then we went up Highland to Hollywood, and then went west on Sunset back to where we started. The energy was out of this world and there were all kinds of people there. Even people in their homes cheered and clapped us on. It really was a moment being made in history and a protest done right.
After the second hour, my arms and my shoulder started to hurt because of the rope. The pain didn't stop me, though, and it only made me stronger and even more determined. I used the pain as fuel for my fight. My adrenaline took over and I wanted blood. I was marching for something I whole-heartedly believe in, for equality and justice, and I wasn't about to stop because of some muscle pain. I was marching not just for myself, but for my friends, my entire community, the younger generation behind us and those fearless gay individuals before my time who had paved the way for all of us with their sweat and blood. And so I marched.
Another hour went by and another.
The march finally ended around 11:30. My entire body was hurting and I was beat. But you know what, it was worth every minute. I believe civil rights are worth the physical pain. I even believe they're worth my death.
You might think I'm crazy for thinking that but this is something I believe in and something that I've dedicated a part of my life to. Fighting for global social justice is a passion of mine and that is why I wouldn't mind being a martyr to it. I've always told myself that if I ever made a little difference in the world, then I will have lived a meaningful life and that my passing will not be in vain.
I do hope that one day my parents will be proud of me and what I've done, even though I know I wasn't the son they had hoped for in the beginning.
- Jimmy Chen |
| | Posted 6/2/2009 2:06 PM - 86 Views - 12 eProps - 5 comments
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