And if the last paragraph doesn’t drive home the definition of privilege, then I don’t know what will.
From Republic of T:
Add it all up, and inequality is expensive for black same-sex households. Cannick is right that there are too many Blacks living at or below the poverty line, or living just this side of it. For Black gay families, inequality adds another economic burden.
Inequality exacts a different price when a loved one dies unexpectedly.
Wesley Mercer, a gay Black man, died on September 11, 2001, while helping evacuate the World Trade Center. His partner of 26 years, Bill Randolph, also a Black gay man, struggled to get equal recognition for their relationship. Morgan Stanley, Mercer’s employer, gave him $700 to cover immediate expenses, and later a check for $10,000. Though Mercer supplied half the household income, Randolph does not receive Social Security benefits, workers’ compensation, or Mercer’s 25-year army pension. Only spouse are eligible.
Randolph has spoken up about what he faced as a gay, man losing a partner on 9/11, without the benefits and protections of marriage. I doubt he believes he or any of the Black gay couples who were plaintiffs in the state marriage lawsuits — Corey Davis & Andre LeJune (CA), Mikki Mozelle & Lisa Kebreau (MD), Alvin Williams & Nigel Simon (MD), Takia Foskey & Jo Rabb (MD), Alicia Heath-Toby & Saundra Toby-Heath (NJ) — would agree that that inequality is a “secondary issue.”
Sometimes the cost cannot be calculated in dollars and cents.
This weekend, while we were downtown, we ran into a friend of ours and his son. While the two boys played together, we chatted about the election, and he told us that he had spent election day volunteering, doing voter defense in Virginia.
We’ve known him for almost six years. We celebrated with him and his partner — a Black gay couple — when they adopted their son after several disappointments, and again when they married. Two years ago his husband — a healthy man by all appearances — collapsed at work, and was rushed to the hospital. Our friend arrived at the hospital only to be told that without proof of their relationship he could not see his husband or receive any information about his husband’s condition.
Without knowing what was wrong, or whether his husband would survive until he got back, he drove home, retrieved their legal documents, returned to the hospital and was allowed to see his husband, and had time to say goodbye. His husband died a few days later, of a brain aneurysm, without regaining consciousness.
I told that story to our white, heterosexual neighbor. She told me what happened when her husband was rushed to the hospital. She arrived at the hospital and only needed to say three words: “I’m his wife.” She got three words in response: “Right this way.”
(Via sex, art, and politics on Tumblr)
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