"The personal is political" is a maxim from the ’60s and the ’70s that still resonates with me.

It is most relevant to the struggle for human rights, especially for women and sexual minorities, because, prior to that era, there was a culture of denial that discrimination existed against those groups; even if it was acknowledged to exist, there was not much impetus in the body politic to legislate against it. It was vital to change the nature of the then male-dominated public discourse by bringing highly subjective and personal experience into the public domain. Women talking about their lives, discrimination, sexism, fertility, childcare, rape and domestic violence changed history, because their insistence on telling their stories created an unstoppable momentum for change. More than ever before, political change sprang from the repercussions of powerful incontrovertible personal testament, fuelled and amplified by television, of course.
Similarly, the more gay people made themselves visible, and talked about their personal lives, coming out to friends, family and their work colleagues, the more attitudes changed in society, and the more success we have had in fighting discrimination and hate. However, there is a cost to this sacrificing of privacy for political gain. In the future, I hope that it will be no longer necessary. But there’s one thing that needs to be established before this writer will hang up his boots, and that is the introduction of full equality in the eyes of the law in this land, and that will only happen when a person has the right to marry the person they love, regardless of whether that person is male or female.
It would be politically persuasive if I could make a passionate, intensely personal argument in support of gay marriage using my personal life as an example. If I had a live-in lover of a (reassuringly non-singular) number of years, with whom I would wish to stay for the rest of my life, I could wax lyrical about the happiness, security and joy the relationship brings me and my friends and family. “As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters” is my life-long parental refrain, which is usually translatable into the suggestion/directive: “We hope you find someone nice to settle down with”. I guess I have to live with their disappointment. However, if I were so usefully partnered, I could rage fervently at the lack of respect the state shows us as a couple, list the number of ways we are directly discriminated against and vulnerable, in terms of tax, inheritance, next of kin issues, and general relational and social status, compared to the married couple next door. I could fulminate juicily against the sense of injustice that I feel, that I and my partner are not really equal in the eyes of the law, through no fault of our own, merely because of our sexual orientation. No doubt we would be available to the media for interviews.
Mercifully, this boyfriend doesn’t exist, so he doesn’t have to endure this ordeal pour le cause. “If you love me enough, you will go on Pat Kenny.” It’s too much pressure to place on a relationship: prove yourself, take my hand and climb the barricades, wave the rainbow flag; have our love put under the media spotlight to test whether or not it’s The Right Stuff for marriage. Happily, Katherine Zappone and Ann Louise Gilligan have already bravely blazed the trail and, through their winning appearance on the Late, Late Show, changed the hearts and minds of many Irish people. But, of course, the more gay couples who follow in their footsteps and walk the media fire, the more minds will be changed – because when it comes to human rights, the more people can see for themselves that the people being discriminated against are ordinary, pleasant, non-scary people, the harder it is to hate or hold prejudice. (When I say people, I would suggest that the one sub-group of people most in need of this humanising process are government, especially Fianna Fáil, TDs. Have a word with them, if you know any. Write. Send a postcard. Every little helps.)
When it comes to single gay men, however, it’s a little more complex for us to argue in favour of gay marriage. As so many of us are single, it may seem like there’s not much demand. But that’s to think only in terms of marriage as a consumer issue. It is, of course, far more important than that. The constitution affords it special protection, and I, for one, take that very seriously. Most importantly, to extend the institution of marriage to include gay people is not an “attack” on marriage – it bolsters and strengthens it. This argument is effortless to support if one truly believes two things: that gay people are equal to heterosexual people, and that marriage is a good thing. It also makes perfect sense if one looks at the problem of single men. We don’t do very well on our own, poor things. On all scales of mental health and emotional well being, marriage is good for us. Anything that acts as a persuader to get into relationship can only be a good thing. Eloise McInerney of LGBT Noise in Monday’s Irish Times looks at this argument, the jaded promiscuous gay man (sorry, what was I thinking? I meant the jaded stereotype of the promiscuous gay man):
“The argument is a tautological one – gay people don’t commit, therefore they should not be allowed to commit, but without the legal mechanisms and expectations of commitment, how are they supposed to do so in the first place?”
I believe it is more difficult for men to form long-lasting relationships with each other, and to a large degree this is because we simply haven’t been socialized into them. For most of us, it only clicked as soon as puberty disturbed us that we had to imagine a different future for ourselves to the rest of our peers, and we often had to do it secretly. I say: an end to all that.
If we do not achieve equality this year, I could take a light-hearted slant, painting the picture of the proposal my fictional (and therefore passionate, poetic, reliable yet adventurous) boyfriend would have to make, were he to subtly engineer me to a highly romantic spot with music playing in the background. “Will you civil union me?” he might have to say to me, in dulcet (but manly) tones. “Will you unite with me, civilly?” he might croon. Or he might choose to yell from the rooftops: “Will you become my civil partner?”
If it were ever put it to me like that... I’d feel the need to be uncivil, I think. It’s marriage or nothing at all. The argument is about equality, nothing more and nothing less. “Our sexual orientation is not an incidental attribute. It is an essential part of who and what we are. All citizens, regardless of sexual orientation, stand equal in the eyes of our laws. Sexual orientation cannot, and must not, be the basis of a second-class citizenship. Our laws have changed, and will continue to change, to reflect this principle.”
Those words, spoken by none other than Taoiseach Bertie Ahern, can, if taken to their logical conclusion, only mean one thing: marriage for all, no second-class “civil partnership”. This is the year it can happen, this is the year when everyone who believes in equality for gay people has to speak out for it.
It’s personal. And it’s right.