Dear Mr. Kluwe,
I'm having a sort of rough morning. My children are playing with Lalaloopsy dolls - do you have the unfortunate pleasure of knowing those? They're these Neil Gaiman-inspired plastic demons with pink hair and black button eyes. Someday, I will find one in my bed and that will be the end of me. But that is, I suppose, neither here nor there. The dolls have the stomach flu. This essentially means my children rip off the dolls overly ruffled, Japanime-inspired clothes and force me to redress them. Over and over. Ad infinitum. Ad nauseum. I was tired of listening to the repetitive chatter of the game. Sure, the first time you hear, "Mommy! Cookie Crumble has poop on her dress!" the adrenalin is enough to sustain you. By the thirteenth time, the game has lost its patina.
That is how I came to read your article this morning. A diversionary expedition into the world of Facebook, a quick glimpse at George Takei's page, and suddenly I wished for the sweet banter of compulsive doll vomiting.
I wanted to say thank you. And, I promise, I won't be too long-winded in doing so. I recently had a bouncy baby boy of my own (he will never be an NFL player at all, most likely) and when he was three months old I sat him down for an important talk. I told him that it was okay with me if he had a girlfriend when he got bigger. Or a boyfriend. He could be as asexual as Sherlock Holmes or a Kinsey six and he would always be welcome and loved in my home. And, to be fair, I've had this talk with all my children at some point in their infancy. My husband and I want our children to know - from very early on, apparently - that we accept them and we love them. I would honestly have a harder time raising a staunch conservative than I would a gay child (obviously, from a personal perspective. Society would be far more accepting of the former, despite the recent rise in popularity of Glee and Modern Family). We all have our prejudicial crosses to bear.
When you first started writing about gay marriage rights, I began to have hope, for the first time in a long time, that equality in this capacity was possible in my lifetime. Your values, your prowess with a well-placed expletive, your calling out of those so vocally vile on the subject - these things warmed my heart. These are values that are important in our family; we believe that marriage rights are not exclusive to the straight population. We also believe you need to stand up for what you believe is morally right. Especially when it isn't easy for you to do so. We don't always practice what we preach, but we do try. And we work exceptionally hard not to make anyone feel like a second-class citizen. Even if they like country music or Chris Christie.
We're also from the liberal northeast. There are many more like us up here than there are in other places. Perk of geography, I suppose.
I thought what you were doing was brave. I also suspected you probably didn't see it that way. But, at the time, I was an unmarried mother of two, living my own small version of a non-traditional lifestyle and afraid of public retribution should my bastard babies become common knowledge. A professional football player being outspoken about the subject of equality was a courageous novelty, indeed.
The last few weeks I've been a little down. Several of my "friends" on Facebook have been highly supportive of Phil Robertson's "freedom of speech." "Listen to what he's saying - he isn't judging! He just doesn't believe gay marriage is right! Everyone is entitled, nay, FREE to have their own opinion!" they'd clamor. Then they'd quote Sarah Palin or Ted Cruz or someone else I find politically and morally vile and they'd sit smugly back, confident that Phil should be revered because it gives him the heebie-jeebies to imagine two men having intercourse.
They ignored the fact that Phil Robertson also made a pretty (pardon the horrific pun) off-color remark about "slaves" "smiling" before they were emancipated. And certainly none of those people are championing his right to marry a girl under the age of sixteen to avoid statutory rape charges. Or, if they are, they're not posting crappy memes about it on Twitterland.
I hope they are truly happy that they've hitched their stars to his batshit crazy wagon.
This was the Chik-Fil-A debacle all over again. Only, instead of people clamoring that the right to eat truly delicious fried chicken was on par with the rights of two same-sex people to marry, we have a dynastic duck patriarch as the misplaced idol.
So, when I read your post this morning, the first thing I thought was: I wonder how many people will support Chris Kluwe. I expect, as I'm sure you do, many people will hold fast to the belief that you were fired for your performance, despite what the numbers say and despite what you remark about sacrificing your numbers for the betterment of the team. They'll cling to this version of facts because it's easier that way for them to keep their steadfast belief that two men or two women in love are somehow less than they are.
They won't see you as a Phil Robertson, because they disagree with your politics. They'll use some ad hominem attack or reverse the logic that you getting fired for your political activism is, somehow, the same as Phil Robertson getting a paid vacation for his. The words "discrimination" and "faulty syllogism" mean nothing to these people; it isn't worth trying to explain it to them.
But, again, I digress.
The long and short of it is: in activism, often times, whether intentionally or not, people get thrust into the limelight as faces of the cause. This has been your lot, I'm afraid. While, perhaps, it came at the cost of your NFL career, it has opened doors for you that otherwise would have been closed. I suspect you'll write, you'll tweet, you'll game, and you'll support gay rights.
That sounds like a pretty good life to me, too.
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