In The Belly of the Republican Beast
A Gay Liberal Attends Denver’s Western Conservative Summit
Rick Kitzman
“HEY, YOU WANNA WIN A GUN?”
Those were the first words I heard as an attendee of the annual Western Conservative Summit held the last weekend in June at Denver’s Colorado Convention Center. Sponsored by the Colo- rado Christian University (CCU) and its think tank, The Centen- nial Institute, the conference has become a national spotlight on causes dear to conservatives’ hearts and anyone interested in funding their run for the Republican presidential nomination.
After three days of being verbally pummeled for being gay, for supporting gun license background checks, for thinking Americans deserve healthcare, for believing in climate change, for knowing war is antithetical to literal Christian tenets by speaker after speaker, hour after hour, I was agog with disbelief, amused by the inmates running their asylum, infuriated, disgusted, depressed. Mostly, my heart was heavy.
I’m a member and former Practitioner (a kind of spiritual coach) of Mile Hi Church, located ironically next door to CCU’s Lakewood campus. Prior to the convention, I met with my own Practitioner. After our discussion and yes, prayers, I decided to attend as an observer. If I engaged with anyone, the watch-word was ‘respond,’ not ‘react. I wanted to attend with an open mind, civility, and respect for different ways of thinking. I was willing to walk my talk knowing we all wear the face of God — no exceptions.
Arriving at the cavernous center Friday afternoon, I descended one long flight of stairs, walked the length of a football field, rode down a two-story escalator,and walked into the three-story Mile High Ballroom that seated thousands of people whose beliefs are diametrically opposed to mine. Lit only with enormous ceiling circles of beguiling twinkle lights, the giant, dark box displayed giant screens with giant mouths spewing giant gobs of verbal gunk. Turns out, I’d followed a circuitous path to one of Dante’s unmentioned rings of hell, the one marked “Abandon all hope of finding common ground with yonder rabid religious Republicans, ye liberals who enter here.”
After thirty minutes, I had to get out, outside into a cloudless, sunny Colorado day with a canopy of blue, a glorious shade like nowhere else in the world. And I breathed. And I opened my bag of goodies picked up at registration, and what do I pull out first? The Top Ten Myths About Homosexuality. (Are you effing kidding me!)
This 50-page brochure, published in 2010 by the Family Research Council, listed the following examples: Myth #1: People are born gay; Myth #2: Sexual orientation can never change; Myth #8: Homosexuals are no more likely to molest children than heterosexuals. Other myths concerned the healthy nature of same-sex relationships and of children raised by same-sex parents, our lack of psychological disorders, even the myth that our conduct is not harmful to our physical health. (I’ve been gay since the age of four — I can’t change my orientation, I’ve never molested anyone, and I feel pretty good. But what do I know?) A plethora of outdated, footnoted, and annotated scientific studies from the 1980s to 2009 supported the counter arguments.
Once more, unto the breach.
Flanking the entrance to the area reserved for exhibitors, Colorado Hispanic Republicans and Librè Initiative greeted every visitor. This calculated placement screamed: “Look how diverse we are!”
After politely declining the offer to “win a gun” from the National Association for Gun Rights, I stopped by Party of Choice. A blaring cartoon video called “I Freakin’ Love Fracking” grabbed my attention. On the table littered with material was a stack of bumper stickers I thought had to do with pet control: “Too many are born, we can’t feed them all. Please spay or neuter your liberal today!” I chatted with the two women behind the table. Topics ranged from biblical verses to child-bearing. I learned that the verses in Timothy I (2:9-15) that admonish women not to wear elaborate hairstyles or gold or “to assume authority over man, but should learn in full submission and be quiet” because woman was deceived (not Adam) and she can only be saved by childbearing — yeah, those verses — had more to do with the fact that women couldn’t hear the sermons in the segregated temples of the time. (Hey, it was like talking to a Stepford wife!) I was informed that because Christ died for our sins, he took care of all those dietary restrictions in Leviticus and those other “wacky” laws that if broken decreed a death sentence by stoning. Oh how the three of us chuckled, good times, good times! So it’s ok now to eat shellfish. But lying with a man like one lies with a woman? Turns out there are some restrictions that Christ didn’t die for. On the subject of abortion, when one of the women found out she was pregnant, she immediately fell in love with her child. Ahhh! She and her husband conceived the right way. I said, “I don’t think it matters what your politics are, everyone conceives the same way.” The woman responded, “No, my husband and I got married before we got pregnant.” Ah, the Right way, indeed.
Other partner organizations or exhibitors included: Heritage Action for America; John Jay Institute (he was the first Supreme Court Chief); NRA; Americans for Prosperity; The Heritage Foundation; Forged from Honor; HonorBell.org (a veterans group); Reagan Club; Jeffco Prays; Lincoln Club of Conservatives; Citizens of Life; and the Faith and Freedom Coalition. What galls me is how these organizations use words every patriot of every stripe can claim, and yet their definition belies the truth behind the purpose of their organization. Along with the two Hispanic groups mentioned earlier were the Christians United for Israel, Colorado Jewish Republican Coalition, and the American Conservatives of Color. “Look how diverse we are!”
A cardboard cutout of Hillary Clinton stood in front of the Colorado Women’s Alliance stall. Two horns, fashioned from red foil, had been taped to the top of her head. Opposite her was a cutout of Margaret Thatcher. When I stopped, a man chuckled and said, “My wife’s responsible for that!”
I asked, “So why do people hate Hillary?”
“Because she lies.”
My turn to chuckle. “What politician doesn’t?”
“And she steals money.”
My turn to chuckle again. “What politician doesn’t?”
“Ted Cruz.”
I remembered my intention and moved away.
The Supreme Court decision regarding same-sex marriage fired up the attendees with an apoplectic passion to fight the decision made by godless men and women for damned men and women. They sincerely believe God’s displeasure with America will rain ruin upon the nation and its citizens. Those of us who supported the victory with an exuberant passion celebrated the decision made by just men and women for loving men and women. We sincerely believe long-withheld justice will finally be available to all American citizens and make us a finer nation. And celebrate we must and should. But quickly dust off the confetti; do not rest easy — this is just the beginning.
With no number clicker in hand, I estimated that out of the reported 4000 participants, less than 5 percent were noticeably a minority, and I’m being generous. Yet, time after time and disproportionately, minorities introduced speakers, provided debates, and were the subjects of propaganda videos about their local and foreign fights for freedom. “Look how diverse we are!”
In the big black box, Summit Sessions provided the forum for prayers, entertainers, mock (and mocking) debates with liberals, video testimonials, and scheduled speakers. After the first prayer that opened the session, John Anderson, founder of the Centennial Institute said, “We’re not here to support one party or another or tell you how to
vote.” I about choked on my cantaloupe. (A fabulous breakfast was provided!) As an eyewitness, I can tell you falser words were never spoken.
I sat way in the back. It afforded me the luxury to remain silent, still, and seated as wave after wave of cheering and clapping and standing ovations for presenters and comments poured from the audience. It nauseated me. Here’s what I heard or read from brochures picked up at exhibitors’ tables:
Carly Fiorina, who supported same-sex couple benefits during her tenure at Hewlett Packard: “Marriage means something very specific. I don’t think five people, unelected and unaccountable, to think in their hubris, that they have the power to change that.” I don’t think five people in the audience knew what hubris means. I’d pay good money to witness her and Hillary debate … or mud wrestle.
Former Colorado Senator Bill Armstrong, now president of CCU, regarding the Log Cabin Republicans: “I don’t think they’re a good fit with our group.”
Rick Santorum: “We have been bullied into silence.” It’s about time you shut your pie-hole because I’ve been listening to your brand of bullying for more than 50 years.
Ben Carson: “Marriage is a religious service.” Hello, anybody home? Not always, not to everyone.
Rick Perry, handsome, presidential, incoherent: “Ronald Reagan gave us hope, the Colorado Club, and the jelly-bean-guessing contest.” What Reagan didn’t give gay men was the time of day as deaths from the plague decimated our communities. For three years!
Arthur Brooks, president of the American Enterprise Institute: “Whining is the liberal short end of the stick in liberal media.” Oh yeah, well, I’m rubber, you’re glue; whatever you say sticks on you. The Right won’t stop whining until Pat Robertson is president.
Tony Perkins, fearing retaliation and abandoning true conservative values: “Some want to be on the right side of history. I want to be on the right side of the one who will write the final chapter.” Did he mean Stephen King or God? Please, please rapture out!
Warren Smith, veep of World News Group, whined about NPR’s $120M-dollar budget compared to his paltry $10M and unashamedly asked for support. He also talked about the lost art of storytelling. “The liberal media tells false stories. The Harvey Milk story is largely false.” If only the part where Milk was murdered was false …
Mike Huckabee was introduced as “insightful, funny, interesting, likable.” (That got a laugh.) He ranted about “disgusting judicial decisions and judicial tyranny, an extreme court who rewrites the laws of nature and the laws of God,” and about an “imperial court.” Was he referencing our wonderful, drag organization that has raised tens of thousands of dollars for charity? Or was he channeling J. Edgar Hoover?
I never once heard any complaints about the SCOTUS decisions on Citizens United nor Hobby Lobby. Of course, that court was just and enlightened.
During one session, Melanie Sturm, writer of a bi-monthly column for the Aspen Times, said their principles (right-leaning) are big hearted, and ours (left-leaning) are black hearted, and, AND, wait for it, wait for it: “We have a morally superior plan for humanity.” Suddenly, a picture came to me. Substitute the cross with the swastika, God for der Führer, gays for Jews, Huckabee, Santorum, Fiorina for Himmler, Speer, Eva Braun, Denver for Berlin, 2015 for the 1930s. Hyperbole? Fearing thought police would soon drop a net over me, I almost ran from the center.
Attention religious Right Republicans: There is no war on Christianity! There is, however, a war on your ignorance, your arrogance, your hypocrisy, your perverted dogma of power and control based on one of the most loving souls — whom you deem your personal savior — ever to visit Earth. Liberals — frankly, any fair-minded individual — won a major battle with the success of Obergefell v. Hodges, but the real war is far from won. My America, your America, their America will never be the same. The reason I felt heavy-hearted many times at this convention was because I wished for a future when America will be our America. The last time I remember an America this divided was during the Vietnam war, a national, soul-gutting travesty of injustice to a country, and then to the vets who fought it. (If you want a historical perspective, read One Nation Under God: How Corporate America Invented Christian America by Kevin M. Kruse, emphasis on invented.)
But who will decide what the future of America will look like? The young, and the minorities. The aging party of white, male evangelicals knows this is its last chance to embed its dogma within the national psyche. During the hours spent listening to speakers, mostly middle-aged white males, the conference leaders trotted up teenage or millennial boys and girls to introduce the next speaker. Civic and academic leaders, God-fearing and freshly scrubbed, the youth spouted the tenets of their pastors and parents. When I spoke several times to young attendees, I got a different picture.
Three young teenagers, all blond and of varying height like Russian nesting dolls, each wearing a polo shirt of pink, green, or tan color, paced the long corridor with clipboards in hand engaging passersby.
“Hey guys, what are you doing?” I asked. “We’re taking a poll.”
I answered their questions and said, “I saw you yesterday. I call you the Spumoni gang.”
Uncomfortable giggles. They had no idea what I meant. “You know that ice cream that’s strawberry, mint, and chocolate?” More giggles as they understood my gag.
I asked them what they thought about the conference. They were so bright and cheery and optimistic. The planet needs our help. Healthcare was important. Same-sex marriage? Weeeeell, not really a big deal, but not quite sure.
Logan, a Washington State college student and a young Zac Efron, wasn’t quite sure about same-sex marriage either. He wanted to read all he could before he “made a bold statement.” Fair enough.
Matt, a potential Randy Blue star with his buzzed sides and pompadour haircut, tended the Tea Party table. I tried to engage him about the Supreme Court decision, noting that I’d heard the attorney general for Georgia, his home state, was the first to declare the decision the law of land and had made its county offices available for same-sex marriage licenses. He really wished he could chat but as long as the line was behind the table, he couldn’t. I chuckled and said, “So come over to my side of the table.” He laughed and declined, but I sensed he was supportive.
I stopped off at the Log Cabin Republicans booth, graciously shared with the Colorado Republicans. I spoke to Andy and Travis. Of course, they were elated with the SCOTUS decision. Their reception by people who stopped by was respectful and mostly out of curiosity. The guys felt they were putting a face to homosexuality to people who might not know any and how they share many conservative values. I congratulated them and a member of the other group. I mentioned the brouhaha over their application for their own table being denied. “Shameful!” said Barbara. Ok, Barbara. “This group supported my son when he ran for state attorney general. They’re wonderful and deserved their own table. If you really want to talk to an extreme group, go to the Eagle Forum. That’s Phyllis Schlafly’s group.” Remembering Schlafley’s extreme positions, I thought I’d better not. I’d maintained my civility and respect so far, but didn’t want to push it.
A surprise meeting with a former colleague of mine led to our chat about the conference. He’s a type of chief-of-staff for a local politician. I was encouraged that this brilliant conservative was very disappointed about what he was hearing at the conference and from his boss. “Can’t we just move on to important issues?” Apparently not.
If you need proof the war wages on, on July 4th The Denver Post reported that two new measures have been introduced to the Colorado legislature. If passed, one redefines the relationship between any same-sex couple married in Colorado or in another state as a civil union, not a marriage. The other, resulting from several bakery-related incidents, allows wedding- related businesses opposed to gay marriage to hire a contractor to serve the couples from a list of willing businesses maintained by the state. This opening salvo by conservatives portends the war will continue. What a waste of time, energy, resources.
Stupefied every day from the effects of being a stranger in the strangest land, I had to get back to reality, my reality. Friday, I went to Lannie’s Clocktower to watch a Dame Edna impersonator, and enjoy my kind of standing ovation for the announcement of the same-sex ruling. Saturday, at a murder-mystery dinner sponsored by members of an Episcopalian church, I played Nico Rodriguez, a pro-baseball wanna-be and chick magnet in love with Maria — and a prime suspect in her brutal murder. We made love in a coffin. She turns out to be my half sister. Only time I’ve ever been a chick magnet, yet that was more realistic than my day at the conference. Sunday, I watched Edward II, Derek Jarmon’s 1991 modern film of Christopher Marlowe’s Elizabethan play, starring a stunning Tilda Swinton. Brilliant Jarmon died of AIDS in 1994. The gay king died with a hot poker up his ass, the metal kind. Committed in the name of God and country — like so much of what I’d heard the past three days — the regicide seemed a fitting diversion. The story is actually about corruption, power, riches, and control — like so much of what I’d heard the past three days.
Another hero of mine who died too early from AIDS is Paul Monette, author of Borrowed Time and Becoming a Man, winner of the 1992 National Book Award for Nonfiction, both chronicles of being gay and fights against AIDS. He wrote, “Go without hate, but not without rage. Heal the world.” As a survivor of the plague years, I feel his words challenging me. I don’t hate the attendees, never did. I still know they all wear the face of God. Yes, I raged against their world views. But the jury is still out about whether or not I will help heal the world.
Leaving Sunday afternoon, after talking with the young men, I felt hopeful which was light years from what I’d felt the past three days. And I thanked God for my lighter heart. In the parking lot, a rusting, diesel pick-up displayed a Romney for President bumper sticker and another with these words: Tolerance is the virtue of a man without convictions. I took out my Sharpie and scratched out the letters ‘o-u-t.’ Always the good boy and so unlike me, at the time, I feared the owner would catch me. Then I prayed (if caught) that he or she didn’t win the lottery for a gun.
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