The Supreme Court’s decision to overturn state bans on same-sex marriage spawned vigorous commentary on both sides. It also launched another round of analysis into how support for marriage equality grew so much faster than other civil rights movements. Most focus on the importance of coming out, personal conversations, the power of social media and the universality of love, all of which no doubt played a role. They also avoid the more difficult discussion of the advantages, or privilege that was somewhat unique to the LGB equality movement: easier access to the structures of power and close allies not similarly situated.
The medical school admissions process couldn’t hold my sexual orientation against me, because I hadn’t even realized it yet. By the time I knew I was gay, I was well almost done and had learned when and how to discuss my orientation. Those who infiltrated the system before me changed academic medicine, making sexual orientation a sought after element of diversity at many residency programs.
Some LGB people no doubt had a harder time than I did, with water cooler whispers leading to rejections and missed promotions. But the ability of some to remain closeted, through choice or delayed realization of sexual orientation, allows LGB people to move up the ladder further and faster than other groups that face discrimination. Fair or not, healthy or not, remaining unrecognized simply isn’t an option for most people of color or women. Transgender individuals face a similar difficulty, with applications flagged or limited by pronoun mismatches in resumes and recommendations.
Realizing that LGB people could advance quietly until it was time to build on a wave of acceptance makes the rapid shifts by business and academia less of a surprise. A CEO who doesn’t want to advance women won’t have any on his leadership team. One who dislikes homosexuals may have entered a meeting Friday to find half his board wearing pink ties. Yes, consumer pressure and the “pink dollar” played a role, but that is in part because of higher paying jobs. (It’s worth noting that the pink ties could lead to pink slips in the many states where it is legal to discriminate against LGBT people in the workplace.)
There may also have been PFLAG members on those boards, which brings up a second advantage. Discrimination based on race and ethnicity affects families for generations and reaches into numerous aspects of life. The straight parents and families of LGBT individuals typically suffer less discrimination in their own lives. They weren’t denied access to housing, education and finance even if their children were, leaving them better poised to provide and advocate for LGBT relatives when the opportunity arose.
Obviously, these are generalizations. Not every LGB person had the option of the closet or supportive families, and some belong to multiple groups that face discrimination. There are also heroic women, immigrants, transgender activists and people of color who have been breaking glass ceilings for years. That some LGB people had privileges does not mean their struggle is manifestly different from other civil rights struggles. Rather, they brought different weapons to the fight. The question now is how to use them to keep fighting for equality.
One way is to effectively arm others. The fight for reproductive rights, for example, might benefit from finding effective ways for women who have had abortions to “come out.” (Voluntarily.)
The harder, but far more important duty is to use any status we have for others. Privilege has taken on a bad connotation, but is only a problem when it is arrogantly denied or used only selfishly. Whatever piece of the brass ring the LGB community may have reached with marriage equality, grabbing it only takes one hand. The other needs to be reaching back through whatever doors were opened to bring everyone else through. It would be great to celebrate June 26 as a national holiday, but we can never forget how we felt June 25, or stand by while others face the same discrimination.
