From: HRCFCOMM@aol.com Date: Fri, 8 Sep 1995 19:16:43 -0400 Subject: Elizabeth Birch's "Open Letter" to the Christian Coalition: Text ***************************************************************** OPEN LETTER OPEN LETTER OPEN LETTER THE HUMAN RIGHTS CAMPAIGN FUND The Nation's Largest Lesbian and Gay Equal Rights Organization ***************************************************************** To contact the HUMAN RIGHTS CAMPAIGN FUND, please call us at (202)628-4160, fax us at (202) 347-5323 or write to us at PO Box 1396 Washington, DC 20013. ***************************************************************** September 8, 1995 Open Letter to Christian Coalition Members Dear Members of the Christian Coalition: An Open Letter was not my first choice as a way of reaching you. I would have preferred speaking to all of you directly, and in a setting where you would be most comfortable. That was my motivation, some weeks ago, when I asked your executive director, Ralph Reed, for the opportunity to address the Christian Coalition's "Road to Victory" Conference. It is still my motivation today. And it is supported by a single, strong belief that the time has come for us to speak to each other rather than past each other. It took Mr. Reed very little time to reject my request. Perhaps he misunderstood my motivation. But I can assure you that what has driven my request is this: I believe in the power of the word and the value of honest communication. During my years of work as a litigator at a major corporation, I was often amazed at what simple, fresh and truthful conversation could accomplish. And what is true in the corporate setting is also true, I'm convinced, in our communities. If we could learn to speak and listen to each other with integrity, the consequences might shock us. Although your podium was not available to me, I am grateful for those who have come today and will give me "the benefit of the doubt" and be willing to consider what I have to say. I will be pleased if you are able to hear me without prejudging either the message or the messenger. And I will be hopeful, most of all, if you respond by joining me in finding new ways to speak with honesty not only about one another, but also to one another. If I am confident in anything at all, it is this: our communities have more in common than we care to imagine. This is not to deny the many differences. But out of our sheer humanity comes some common ground. Although the stereotype would have us believe otherwise, there are many conservative Americans within the nation's gay and lesbian communities. What's more, there are hundreds of thousands of Christians among us -- Christians of all traditions, including those represented in the Christian Coalition. And, like it or not, we are part of your family. And you are part of our community. We are neighbors and colleagues, business associates and friends. More intimately still, you are fathers of sons who are gay and mothers of daughters who are lesbians. I know many of your children very, very well. I work with them. I worry with them. And I rejoice that they are part of our community. Part of what I want you to know is that many of your children who are gay and lesbian are gifted and strong. Some are famous; most of them are not. But many are heroic in the way they have conquered barriers to their own self-respect and the courage with which they've set out to serve a higher good. All were created by God. And you have every right to be proud of each of them. I begin by noting the worthiness of the gays and lesbians in your family and our community for a reason: it's hard to communicate with people we do not respect. And the character of prejudice, of stereotype, of demagoguery, is to tear down the respect others might otherwise enjoy in public, even the respect they would hold for themselves in private. By taking away respectability, rhetorically as well as legally, we justify the belief that they are not quite human, not quite worthy, not quite deserving of our time, or our attention, or our concern. And that is, sadly, what many of your children and colleagues and neighbors who are gay and lesbian have feared is the intent of the Christian Coalition. If it were true, of course, it would be not only regrettable, but terribly hypocritical; it would not be worthy of the true ideals and values based in love at the core of what we call "Christian." The reason I have launched this conversation is to ask that you join me in a common demonstration that this is not true. I make my appeal as an individual, as Elizabeth Birch, and also as the executive director of the Human Rights Campaign Fund, America's largest policy organization for gay men and lesbian women. This is such a basic appeal -- to human communication and common decency -- that I do not even know how to distinguish between what is personal and what is professional. But my appeal is sincere. I am convinced that if we cannot find ways to respect one another as human beings, and therefore to respect one another's rights, we will do great damage not only to each other, but also to those we say we represent. I recognize that it is not easy for us to speak charitably to each other. I have read fundraising letters in which people like me are assigned labels which summon up the ugliest of dehumanizing stereotypes. Anonymous writers have hidden under the title of "Concerned Christian" to condemn me with the fires of God and to call on all of you to deny me an equal opportunity to participate in the whole range of American life. I have heard of political agendas calling not merely for the defeat of those I represent, but for our eradication. Such expressions of hatred do not, can not, beget a spirit of trust. Nor do they pass the test of either truthfulness or courage. They bear false witness in boldface type. And I believe that they must embarrass those who, like me, heard of another gospel -- even the simple gospel taught me as a child in Sunday School. I would not ask that you, as members of a Christian group, or as supporters of a conservative political cause, set aside either your basic beliefs or your historic commitments. The churches which many of you represent -- Baptist, for example, and Pentecostal -- were also the churches I attended as a young woman. In those days, I heard sermons about justice and sang songs about forgiveness. My greatest hope is not that you will give up your faith, but that it will work among all of us. Neither of us should forsake our fundamental convictions. But we could hold those convictions with a humility that allows room for the lives of others; neither of us may be the sole possessors of truth on every given issue. And we could express our convictions in words that are, if not affectionate, and if not even kind, then at least decent, civil, humane. We need not demonize each other simply because we disagree. I came to my task in the campaign for human rights with this conviction: if we, in the name of civil rights, slander you, we have failed our own ideals, as surely as any Christian who slanders us in the name of God has failed the ideals of Scripture. Some of those who asked me to serve at HRCF may believe that I am naive, that it is foolish to appeal to "the enemy" for common decency, let alone to ask for trusting conversations. But those who wonder about my ideals may not know my childhood. I am an American, born on American soil, but raised in Canada throughout my formative years. Even from a distance -- perhaps especially from a distance -- the American ideal and the centuries-old American dream captured my imagination and my spirit. When I saw America, I saw responsible freedom being exercised everywhere from the picket line to the voting booth. When I learned of the values rooted at the heart of the American Spirit, I felt undying hope. That hope is also rooted in the Judeo-Christian tradition of this nation. From my vantage point on the Canadian prairies, the promise of America tugged at my soul. I could fight it, but I could not win, and America quite literally won my heart. More remarkable still, all this happened during my adolescence, when we are most subject to peer pressure, and in the 1960's during the height of Canadian nationalism. It was, in those days, as daring to publicly acknowledge your love for America as it was to come out of the closet as a lesbian. But I could not hide my affection for my homeland, even though I saw its obvious failings and shortcomings. I believed then, and I believe no less staunchly today, that no other nation in the world offers all its citizens such promises of fairness and equality, principles that are equally reflected in the Christian tradition and the American Constitution. What surprised me when I first became active in America's gay and lesbian communities was that, in this idealism about America, I was not alone. Gay men were beaten with baseball bats, and they went off to find justice, confident that the American ideal would protect them. Lesbians were fired from their jobs, and they said to one another, "We'll be protected by the law." So keen was confidence in the American hope that it took the gay and lesbian communities decades to conclude, regretfully, that civil rights are as likely to be withheld as granted, despite the Constitution; and that true believers are as likely to engage in cruel discrimination as in compassion, even in the name of Christ. Many of us in this community have a long history with the church. Gay men I have loved deeply and lesbians I've known well have talked long into the night about their love for God and for God's church. For some of them, the church had provided the one message of hope they knew as children. The promise of good news was seized gladly by adolescents who did not understand why they were different, or what that difference would mean. For some, the deepest agony of life is not that they risk physical abuse or that they will never gain their civil rights, but that they have felt the judgment of an institution on which they staked their lives: the church. What they long for most is what they once believed was theirs as a birthright: the knowledge that they are God's children, and that they can come home. And it is not only those of us who are gay or lesbian who have suffered on the doorstep of some congregations. Parents, fearing what others at church might whisper, choose to deny the reality that their son is gay or their daughter is a lesbian. Brothers and sisters suffer an unhealthy, and unwarranted, and un-Christian shame. They bear a burden that cripples their faith, based on a fear that cripples us all. This means, I think, that we are still a long way from realizing the ideal of America as a land of hope and promise, from achieving the goal of religion as a healing force that unites us, from discovering that human beings are, simply by virtue of being human beings, deserving of respect and common decency. And so, I have come today -- in person, bearing this letter, and in writing to those who will only receive it -- to make three simple, sincere appeals to those of you who are members of the Christian Coalition. The first appeal is this: please make integrity a watchword for the campaigns you launch. We all struggle to be people of integrity, especially when we campaign for funds. But the fact that we are tempted by money is no excuse. We need to commit ourselves to a higher moral ground. I do not know when the first direct-mail letter was issued in your name that defamed gay men and abused gay women, that described us as less than human and certainly unworthy of trust. Neither do I know when people discovered that the richest financial return came from letters that depicted gays and lesbians with intentionally dishonest images. But I do know -- and I must believe that you know too -- that this is dishonest, this is wrong. I can hardly imagine that a money machine is being operated in your name, spinning out exaggerations as if they were truths, and that you do not see it. But perhaps you do not. In which case, I ask that you hear my second appeal: I ask that, as individuals, you talk to those of us who are gay or lesbian, rather than succumb to the temptation to either avoid us at all cost, as if we are not a part of your community, or to rant at us, as if we are not worthy of quiet conversation. We are, all of us and those we represent, human beings. As Americans, you will have your political candidates; we will have ours. But we could, both of us, ask that our candidates speak the truth to establish their right to leadership, rather than abuse the truth in the interest of one evening's headline. We may work for different outcomes in the elections, but we can engage in an ethic of basic respect and decency. Finally, I appeal to you as people who passionately uphold the value of the family. You have brothers and sons who have not heard a word of family affection since the day they summoned the courage to tell the simple truth. You have sisters and daughters who have given up believing that you mean it when you say, "The family is the basic unit of society," or even, "God loves you, and so do I." Above all the other hopes with which I've come to you hovers this one: that some member of the Christian Coalition will call some member of the Human Rights Campaign Fund and say, "It's been a long time, son" -- or, "I'm missing you, my daughter" -- and before the conversation ends, someone will hear the heartfelt words, "Come home. Let's talk to each other." In that hope, I appeal to each of you. Sincerely, Elizabeth Birch ***************************************************************** 1101 14th Street, NW Suite 200 Washington, DC 20005 phone:(202)628-4160 fax:(202) 347-5323 *****************************************************************