Be Afraid – But Don’t Be A Coward

It seems people are afraid in the wake of the marriage ban.

I’m hearing gay men saying things like, “I’m so over this marriage business!” , or “It’s only the dykes that want marriage.” I’m hearing of gay venue owners ordering prominent and hardworking activists to whom the community owes an incalculable debt to “Get off my stage!” and shut up with the politics, we’re here to enjoy ourselves.

That is the sound of fear.

And as a tactic it’s about as useful (and possible) as Kim Beazley trying to be a "small target".

Yes, there is the danger of a backlash.

Yes, the government’s shameful behaviour invites bigots and hate-merchants to attack us.

So yes, there is reason to be afraid. But no reason for cowardice in the face of that fear. Cowering in a corner and squealing at Mr Howard, “Please don’t hurt us any more,” is only going to fuel the bullies’ pleasure in sinking the boot in. We have to give him a bloody nose. This is a time for coming out, not retreating back in.

That man who’s “over the marriage business” is in deep denial: he’s really saying he’s scared his lover might leave him, and to talk of marriage – even for other people, or in the abstract – risks driving him away.

Let me tell you, people, cringing away in a corner is not going to silence your fears, or keep a lover hanging round. Your lovers will stay with you if they really care, and leave you just exactly when they want if they don’t.

The man who told The Age newspaper “it’s only something lesbians want” really means, “Hit them, they did it! Not me!”

But telling the bully boys to go beat up the lesbians only means they’ll be one less ally when they come for you – and maybe one more enemy.

I know the Melbourne ghetto venue owner means, “Oh God, if there’s trouble people will be too scared to come and spend money in my business, and then what do I do for my retirement? Don’t attract attention or the place might be attacked.”

But banning politics from the pub won’t affect what’s happening on the street outside: the drunken hoons will still hang around hoping for a window to smash, or worse, a poufta to bash. They already know where we are.