Last month, the Supreme Court effectively ended what had been for two decades a pitched battle in the nation’s so-called culture wars. When their ruling in the Obergefell vs. Hodges case found a constitutional right to marriage, they crowned victorious a movement that had been gathering steam, state by state, since the early 1990s. Amid the jubilation among LGBTQ people; their friends, families, and allies; and champions for progress ranging from President Obama to Gandalf, a narrative began to emerge from political and historical commentators. Mostly, the internet filled with breathless praise for the cunning and perseverance of the leaders of the movement for marriage equality. Many also returned to a refrain about the movement: that it happened so quickly.
As the dust settles, it’s important that we – those for whom building movements for social change is daily work – stop, take stock and recognize both the limitations of this narrative and the often unsung heroes of the fight. The marriage equality movement is history largely because of a silo-smashing coalition of organizations that crossed issues and ideology to work toward a common goal. And, though many of those heralding the victory in the last few weeks don’t mention it, it was successful in no small part because those doing the fighting and those being fought for were – whether in fact or in perception – people of privilege.
It’s no secret the LGBT equality movement has most often had white leaders. The boards of Freedom to Marry and the Human Rights Coalition (HRC) are mostly white and cisgender. The staff of HRC in particular has come under criticism lately for its overwhelmingly white and male ranks, and for its hostility to trans and gender nonconforming employees. Both organizations have for over a decade courted and won the support of wealthy, powerful elites. The movement, by and large, has been led by the least marginalized representatives of the LGBTQ community: white, well-educated, cisgender men. Their privilege has redounded to the movement’s benefit.
More broadly speaking, the movement has often portrayed LGBTQ people as nonthreatening – be it economically, socially or politically. The gay and lesbian couples featured prominently in movement messaging were presented as just-like-us, value-driven, usually white folk who only wanted to be included in what is a very conservative institution.
All this and more made the fight for marriage equality immensely different from the other social justice campaigns on our shared horizon. The leaders and the issues behind movements to dismantle the incarcerative state, protect Black citizens from police violence, win a national living wage and otherwise improve the lives of marginalized Americans should not, cannot, and will not be so easily mainstreamed. These movements will be by and for people of color, poor people, and people on the outside looking in. They will be more threatening to the status quo, and they will probably not have the heft of whiteness and wealth behind them either.
To its credit, the movement for national marriage equality united progressive groups across issue areas and constituencies. Faith-based organizations, labor unions, immigration activists and others came together under one banner because those leading the fight knew a united front was the only way to build a resilient movement that could win. When we lionize the marriage movement, this aspect deserves much of our praise.
It’s important, though, that funders and others who seek similarly just outcomes recognize that, while it is vital we study the playbook of the engineers of the marriage victory, it’s equally important to recognize that many of the battles yet to come will more heavily involve the poor, people of color and other disempowered citizens in a way the marriage fight very often did not. Just as crucial, movements for racial and economic justice must follow the example of the marriage movement and reach across barriers of identity and ideology. We, the philanthropic sector, must look outside our comfort zone and down from our place of privilege and ensure that movements for justice are inclusive and that we are prepared for the unique challenges future battles will bring.
Ryan Schlegel is research and policy associate at the National Committee for Responsive Philanthropy (NCRP). Follow @NCRP on Twitter.
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