Because some low-handed, desperate politician whose morals must certainly come into question has slandered her to get your vote? So, am I to conclude that the sleaziest of political shenanigans has worked?
46
Rosie is not an experienced politician. She’s a humanitarian and public servant by nature. She’s the kind of person I would be proud to have as mayor. I will be very much ashamed if we allow the despicable political machinery of this town to sway us from the right choice. Rosie deserves your support. As an ordinary, middle-class citizen, wife and mother of two, my vote goes unhesitatingly to Rosie.
“Not bad,” I said. “Looks even better in print.” Jerry was watching me, I saw, warily.
He finished his coffee and stood. “I’ve got to go get that window replaced.” He took hold of my hand and rubbed his thumb lightly over the most obvious bruise. “What are your plans?”
“I’ve called Faye. She’s giving me a lift to the office, so I won’t need your car.”
Faye and I arrived at the office before Rosie who, a few minutes later, came in grinning and holding a copy of the newspaper. “Jean, you clever girl,” she said. “What a beautiful letter. So sincere, so full of earnest appeal. And the part about being a wife and mother—brilliant!”
“Well, it’s true,” I pointed out.
“Yes, so it is.” She looked momentarily sheepish. “Doesn’t quite capture you, though, does it? Well, it’s a strong hit at the conscience of the voters, and I thank you, but I don’t think it’s worth throwing the punch.”
“I’m just so angry,” I said.
“I know you are. Get over it. It won’t help. But I appreciate the effort.”
“We need to find a way to deal with this issue, put it behind us and move on,” I said. “Your refusal to answer questions about it may be keeping it alive.”
“What do you suggest?”
“I don’t know. I’ll try to think of something.”
Monday morning, we got a call from a representative of the National Gay and Lesbian Alliance. Rosie agreed to take it and was on the phone about fifteen minutes.
“What did they want?” I asked when she emerged from her 4
office.
“They wanted to take up my cause. They wanted to launch a media blitz, put my story in newspapers, magazines, that sort of thing, put a face to the problem. You know, isn’t it a travesty that this kindly old grandmother couldn’t get elected as her hometown mayor because she’s a lesbian.”
“Kindly old grandmother?” I asked.
“Okay, I’m exaggerating. But you get the idea.”
“What did you say?”
“I said no, thank you.” Rosie sat at the empty desk next to mine. “I know that such stories need to be printed, and I considered it, but that sort of publicity wouldn’t be good for this town. I don’t want our city to be portrayed in the media as a symbol of homophobia.”
“I don’t understand why you’re so concerned about a city that’s treating you this way.”
“I know you’re angry right now, but the town’s been good to me, Jean. I’ve always known that this wasn’t San Francisco, or even Sacramento. This town is having its share of growing pains these days. Sexual orientation is not the only issue that these people are struggling with. Sometimes we’ve had a tough challenge to convince people that the town needs things like an arts commission, for instance, or that it should pay for a museum exhibit when crime and unemployment rates are high. They don’t understand the connection. I thought I could really do something for this city as mayor.”
She was more forgiving than I was in the light of all of the insults we were encountering, but it occurred to me that Rosie, having been gay all her life, had a lot more experience with homophobia than I did and had probably learned a little bit about how to let it roll off. That was not an easy life, I imagined. It was certainly not the path of least resistance. Nothing like mine, in fact. I had
46
Rosie is not an experienced politician. She’s a humanitarian and public servant by nature. She’s the kind of person I would be proud to have as mayor. I will be very much ashamed if we allow the despicable political machinery of this town to sway us from the right choice. Rosie deserves your support. As an ordinary, middle-class citizen, wife and mother of two, my vote goes unhesitatingly to Rosie.
“Not bad,” I said. “Looks even better in print.” Jerry was watching me, I saw, warily.
He finished his coffee and stood. “I’ve got to go get that window replaced.” He took hold of my hand and rubbed his thumb lightly over the most obvious bruise. “What are your plans?”
“I’ve called Faye. She’s giving me a lift to the office, so I won’t need your car.”
Faye and I arrived at the office before Rosie who, a few minutes later, came in grinning and holding a copy of the newspaper. “Jean, you clever girl,” she said. “What a beautiful letter. So sincere, so full of earnest appeal. And the part about being a wife and mother—brilliant!”
“Well, it’s true,” I pointed out.
“Yes, so it is.” She looked momentarily sheepish. “Doesn’t quite capture you, though, does it? Well, it’s a strong hit at the conscience of the voters, and I thank you, but I don’t think it’s worth throwing the punch.”
“I’m just so angry,” I said.
“I know you are. Get over it. It won’t help. But I appreciate the effort.”
“We need to find a way to deal with this issue, put it behind us and move on,” I said. “Your refusal to answer questions about it may be keeping it alive.”
“What do you suggest?”
“I don’t know. I’ll try to think of something.”
Monday morning, we got a call from a representative of the National Gay and Lesbian Alliance. Rosie agreed to take it and was on the phone about fifteen minutes.
“What did they want?” I asked when she emerged from her 4
office.
“They wanted to take up my cause. They wanted to launch a media blitz, put my story in newspapers, magazines, that sort of thing, put a face to the problem. You know, isn’t it a travesty that this kindly old grandmother couldn’t get elected as her hometown mayor because she’s a lesbian.”
“Kindly old grandmother?” I asked.
“Okay, I’m exaggerating. But you get the idea.”
“What did you say?”
“I said no, thank you.” Rosie sat at the empty desk next to mine. “I know that such stories need to be printed, and I considered it, but that sort of publicity wouldn’t be good for this town. I don’t want our city to be portrayed in the media as a symbol of homophobia.”
“I don’t understand why you’re so concerned about a city that’s treating you this way.”
“I know you’re angry right now, but the town’s been good to me, Jean. I’ve always known that this wasn’t San Francisco, or even Sacramento. This town is having its share of growing pains these days. Sexual orientation is not the only issue that these people are struggling with. Sometimes we’ve had a tough challenge to convince people that the town needs things like an arts commission, for instance, or that it should pay for a museum exhibit when crime and unemployment rates are high. They don’t understand the connection. I thought I could really do something for this city as mayor.”
She was more forgiving than I was in the light of all of the insults we were encountering, but it occurred to me that Rosie, having been gay all her life, had a lot more experience with homophobia than I did and had probably learned a little bit about how to let it roll off. That was not an easy life, I imagined. It was certainly not the path of least resistance. Nothing like mine, in fact. I had
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