When folks on opposite sides of the gay marriage issue come together, they agree on little.
By BRADY DENNIS
Published February 25, 2004
TAMPA - So this is how the debate plays out in the neighborhoods of America.
An angry 59-year-old man named David Heckman marches on a Tuesday night into the Madstone Theater, where dozens of people have gathered for a screening of commercials aimed at increasing voter participation among gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people.
Most people in the theater fit one of those descriptions.
Heckman, of Valrico, listens while activists talk about gay marriage and equal rights in the workplace. Finally, he can't stand it.
"You are a bunch of sick people," he says as he storms out.
In the hall, Heckman talks about how the founding fathers based the Constitution on the Bible, how they would be appalled at the idea of gay marriage.
"Homosexuality is an abomination," he says. "It's abhorrent behavior. It's unconstitutional, and it's against the Bible."
Another man stands nearby listening. His name is R. Zeke Fread, 52, and he wears a shirt that reads: "Marriage is a human right, not a heterosexual privilege." He challenges Heckman and gets an earful in return.
"You can go to hell," Heckman shouts, "because you're going there anyhow!"
The theater owners have called the police. Heckman finally huffs out the door and disappears into the rainy night.
President Bush on Tuesday backed a constitutional amendment banning gay marriage. Pundits bickered on talk shows. Legislators prepared for the inevitable wrangling in Congress. Lawyers and judges readied for the sure court battles to come.
But out here in the "real" America, the debate isn't always so sterile. It is passionate and personal. It involves, as it did Tuesday night, both shedding tears and shouting.
Like abortion or the death penalty, very little middle ground exists.
"The vast majority of Americans believe marriage is between a man and a woman," Bill Stephens, executive director of the Christian Coalition of Florida, said Tuesday.
To folks like Todd Pressman, a lobbyist and conservative political consultant in Clearwater, Bush's stance comes down to principle.
"There are still principles that I think people have to stand up for," Pressman said. "One of those is the sanctity for the institution of marriage. I have no qualms saying it belongs to a man and woman."
Also, he said, the push for an amendment will prove a smart political move for Bush.
"It's a no-lose for him," Pressman said. "People who are going to support gay marriage were never going to support George Bush, anyway. On the other hand, it does force the Democrats to (waffle). A lot of them don't support gay marriage, but at the same time they know their constituency does."
About 50 members of that constituency gathered Tuesday night at Madstone Theater to sip wine, share cookies and watch television spots that portray discrimination that gay people face in the workplace.
The ads, which can be found on the Internet at www.TurnOut.org were sponsored by the Gill Foundation, a Colorado-based nonprofit equal rights group.
Those who showed up had plenty to say about the president's announcement.
Janice Josephine Carney, executive director of the Florida Gender Equality Project was quick to point out uncertainty in Bush's proposed amendment. "How are they going to define men and women? Where is that line with transgender people?"
Fread, who was smiling and relaxed before his quarrel with Heckman, said gay people only want the privileges to which any American is entitled.
"I've been with my partner for 24 years; I don't need a piece of paper to show my commitment," he said. "But I'd certainly like to have the same rights and benefits married people have. I'm hoping that by my 25th anniversary, we'll be married legally."
He fears that might never happen.
"(The amendment) would be devastating. It would take rights away from Americans," Fread said. "We need to get out and participate now more than ever. We can't have the only voices being heard those of the people who oppose us."
Minutes earlier, Heckman had left the theater sweating, red-faced and angry. Fread stood inside, sweating, red-faced and angry, too. They had that much in common.
