Gay-rights advocates mark 1965 march
James Obergefell still isn't used to being a celebrity, to the constant handshakes and hugs, to people thanking him for being the lead plaintiff in last week's Supreme Court ruling that legalized same-sex marriage.
James Obergefell still isn't used to being a celebrity, to the constant handshakes and hugs, to people thanking him for being the lead plaintiff in last week's Supreme Court ruling that legalized same-sex marriage.
At Sixth and Chestnut Streets on Thursday, he was surrounded as he placed a wreath at the site of one of the nation's first big gay-rights demonstrations, held on Independence Day 1965.
One admirer wanted an autograph. A woman broke down as she spoke to him. Everyone snapped Obergefell's photo as he stood with three elderly original marchers from that long-ago protest.
"I stand on their shoulders," Obergefell said.
He said something else too: Despite the Supreme Court ruling, the battle for gay equality is far from over.
"The fight continues," he said. "We still have a lot of work to do."
In many states and municipalities, he said, gays can be fired from their jobs because of their sexual orientation. Violence against transgender people remains common, homophobia rife.
In some Southern states, he noted, clerks and judges have sought ways to avoid complying with the court ruling, and officials have quit rather than issue same-sex marriage certificates.
Obergefell, a Cincinnati real estate broker who has become the face of the gay-marriage movement, came to join a huge 50th anniversary celebration of the 1965 demonstration.
That polite protest - the women wore dresses, the men suits - was extraordinarily risky. Being identified as gay could bring insults and punches. Psychiatrists classified homosexuality as a mental illness, with the potential "cures" including lobotomy.
Today, many see that 40-person march as the birth of the modern gay-equality movement, occurring four years before the Stonewall Inn riot in New York City.
By marching in Philadelphia, home to Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell, protesters linked the aspirations of gays to the ongoing American struggle for individual liberty.
"It is right that we celebrate, it's crucial to remember the history," said Ted Martin, executive director of Equality Pennsylvania in Harrisburg. "But also there is still plenty of work to do."
Pennsylvania remains the sole Northeastern state where an employer can fire someone based on their sexuality, he said. While local governments in places like Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, and Erie offer workplace protection, roughly 70 percent of Pennsylvanians can be dismissed at will, he added.
Gay advocates say that lack of security hurts population growth and economic development - that people and companies don't move to places averse to diversity and acceptance.
"It's a time of celebration, but the strong lesson we learned from the black civil rights movement and the women's liberation movement is that one court decision does not change the situation for all time," said Chris Bartlett, director of the William Way LGBT Community Center in Center City..
An estimated 45 percent of homeless youths are gay, bisexual, or transgender, he said. Bullying remains a reality in schools. And gay senior citizens can face discrimination in housing and services.
Last year, Philadelphia cheered the opening of the John C. Anderson Apartments, the first senior housing built by and for the lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender community in Pennsylvania.
But even gay-friendly Philadelphia has troubles.
In April, a judge upheld charges against two men and a woman accused of beating a gay couple in Center City last year. The case drew national attention and prompted City Council to pass an LGBT-inclusive hate-crime law.
"The ultimate issue is homophobia in our society, and how that impacts internally and externally," said Malcolm Lazin, executive director of Equality Forum in Philadelphia.
Unlike, say, women or African Americans, whose gender and race are apparent, sexuality is not immediately known, he said.
"The downside of that is you end up hearing a lot of homophobic comments," he said.
Last week's Supreme Court ruling outraged some conservatives who insist that marriage must be between a man and a woman.
In Alabama, more than a dozen judges initially refused to issue same-sex marriage licenses, and some Texas clerks delayed marrying gay couples on procedural grounds. Clerks in Arkansas and Mississippi quit.
Obergefell's lawsuit sprang from his effort to be named as surviving spouse on a death certificate. The State of Ohio refused, saying same-sex marriage was illegal there.
Obergefell's partner of more than 20 years, John Arthur, died of ALS in 2013, three months after the couple were legally wed in Maryland.
On Thursday in Philadelphia, Obergefell politely fielded request after request for his time.
"Thank you, Jim!" someone called out from the crowd of 50 people. "It's the law of the land!"
Obergefell said he was "humbled" to be widely recognized.
"My husband and I fought for ourselves," he said, "and fought for our marriage. . . . Standing up for our love and our marriage helped make the world a better place."
Schedule of 50th-anniversary events: http://lgbt50.org/
215-854-4906@JeffGammage