Reflections on National Coming Out Day
I got my first political job in the summer of 1994, knocking on doors for the Human Rights Campaign, urging Oregonians to vote no on Measure 13 – one of the awful, homophobic ballot measures pushed by the Oregon Citizens' Alliance during the 80s and 90s.
We won that fight with the OCA – and every one after that – by bringing Oregonians together for a common good: making sure that in this state, love is love.
I learned so much that summer. I learned that building a movement by appealing to people's better nature is more difficult than stoking their fears, but it's far more gratifying and enduring.
I learned the power of joining a movement led by folks fighting for their rights. I learned how to listen and how to use my privilege as a straight white man to amplify others' voices.
And I learned that, at its best, politics is a venue to make the world better.
Those lessons, and the values they embody, have guided my entire career.
And while I don't want to take for granted all the progress we've made since 1994 – I'd like to believe that were it proposed today, Measure 13 wouldn't stand a chance – there's still so much to do.
There's still too much ignorance. Too much hate. Too much fear.
I'm saddened - and frankly, enraged - to know so many LGBTQIA+ kids and adults in Oregon who have to hide who they are from their families and communities or risk their own safety. In the upcoming legislative session, I’ll be introducing a bill to outlaw the “gay panic defense” in Oregon. It’s a pathetic legal tactic in which criminal defendants claim that they committed a violent crime because they were upset or frightened by someone else’s sexual or gender expression. It’s a perversion of justice, and we absolutely must prevent anyone from using it in Oregon courtrooms.
As always, I am honored to fight by your side.
Rob