“Right now, the LGBTQIA+ community is under attack,” says Seth J. Meyer, PhD, LCSW, assistant professor of nonprofit studies and public administration at Bridgewater State University in Massachusetts. 

Threats to libraries, education, LGBTQIA+ books, and learning about or discussing queerness is taking place across the U.S. “That hurts queer kids,” Meyer says. “It hurts queer people all around.” 

Proposed legislation attacking drag performers and celebrations of queerness also is harmful because it takes away role models, says Meyer. In addition, states continue to pass laws taking away gender-affirming care. “This is why we really need to be talking about this now more than ever.” 

“I have been doing this work for 25 (plus) years and it almost feels like we are going back in time,” says Meyer, who presented the NASW Specialty Practice Section webinar, “How Social Workers Can Create a Queer Friendly Nonprofit.” 

He noted as of June 1, there were almost 500 anti-LGBTQIA+ laws being proposed across the country, according to the ACLU. Meyer explained that “heteronormativity” is when heterosexuality, or straightness, is held up as the “norm” and anything that does not fit into this category is seen as “other.” 

“Heteronormativity is about power,” Meyer said. “Queer theory is often about questioning who has power and who doesn’t and how we use power to treat otherness.” 

Every individual person is different, Meyer explained. “Some people want heteronormative lives so to speak—and that’s great—but some people don’t. And that is also fine.” 

Read the full story in the NASW Social Work Advocates magazine. 

In this decision the Michigan Supreme Court overruled a previous holding that refused to apply the equitable-parent doctrine to same-sex couples who were unable to wed. One caveat to this ruling is that the same-sex couples need to show that they would have married before the child’s conception or birth if there had not been a ban on same-sex marriages.

We also want to thank NASW Michigan Chapter Executive Director Duane Breijak for getting us involved in this matter.

Background

The National Association of Social Workers,  including its Michigan Chapter, submitted an amicus brief on March 10, 2023, to the Michigan Supreme Court as it hears the case Pueblo v. Haas. The case will determine custody rights for separated unmarried LGBTQ couples.

The case concerns Carrie Pueblo and Rachel Haas – partners in a committed same-sex relationship – who chose to have a child together using assisted insemination, with Haas carrying the child. In 2014, the relationship ended before same sex marriage was legalized by the U.S. Supreme Court, but they continued to share custody and parenting of the child.  

In 2017, Haas requested that Pueblo have no further contact with their child.  Pueblo filed a complaint seeking joint legal and physical custody.

The trial court and the Michigan Court of Appeals ruled in Haas’ favor, finding that because Haas and Pueblo were never married, and Pueblo is not a legal parent or related to the child, she has no right to assert custody. Pueblo’s case is now before the Michigan Supreme Court. 

NASW submits amicus briefs to offer the social work perspective in court cases that impact social workers and the communities they support. The amicus brief in this case urges the court to consider the best interests of the child.

Making an unnecessary change to a child’s relationship with their parent can cause serious emotional harm to the child. Social science research confirms that the bonds of attachment are critical for a child’s healthy development. It does not matter whether there is a biological or legal connection between the parent and child. 

NASW supports protecting the familial attachments between LGBTQ couples and their children and recognizes that these familial relationships are of the same strength, depth, and importance to the healthy development of children as the relationships of opposite-sex couples and their children.  

PRIDE (noun):

1) a feeling of deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from one’s own achievements, the achievements of those with whom one is closely associated, or from qualities or possessions that are widely admired

2) consciousness of one’s own dignity.

June is Pride month. Throughout the country, there will be rainbow-bedecked parades, parties, and marches. There will be festivals and merchandising and chants and controversy. Pride is complex and complicated.

Some of you know the origin of the modern Pride is the Stonewall uprising at the Stonewall Inn bar in New York City, beginning June 28, 1969. You may know the first gay Pride began as resistance to police brutality.

Some of you have listened to podcasts like Making Gay History that interview some of the history makers like Sylvia Rivera who were present that hot summer night, when the respectable and the homeless, the butch, the Black, the Latine and transgender people present all said “No,” to being beaten up and arrested for “crimes” such as masquerading as the opposite gender or serving alcohol to “known homosexuals” (both illegal in New York at the time). The date of this riot was observed a year later as the Christopher Street Parade, and thereafter, as Pride Parades and festivals throughout the United States and the world.

But this is not the “happily ever after” of Pride. It is not the ending any more than it was the beginning. Find our struggles in the U.S. even earlier, with the Homophile Movement, the Compton Cafeteria Riot, the Indigenous identities that preceded the gender binary and heteronormativity brought by European colonizers, and so on.

While Pride is about accomplishments, Pride is also about dignity, and that is not a finished product. Pride is not a tidy ending to a tale, where we can dust our hands together and say, “Well, we’ve got that sorted out.” I wish it were so. I wish that we knew how to undo the kinds of active hate, simple ignorance, and passive bigotry that make the lives of folks in my community today undignified at best and dangerous at worst.

In my home state of Missouri this year, more anti-LGBTQIA2S+ bills were advanced than in any other year: at an astonishing 48 anti-LGBTQIA2S+ bills. This made Missouri second in the nation for hateful legislation. I spent my days in our Capitol testifying against so many of them: the two most powerful pieces of anti-trans legislation passed.

It was crushing.

But standing side by side with almost a thousand people on the lawn of our Capitol protesting for transgender rights reminded me that this fight is not over. Missouri Sen. Greg Razer spoke to the crowd and emphasized, “This is not over. They don’t know our history.”

Razer is a gay man. When I read this article, I recognized some of my story in his. We both come from Missouri towns with populations under 600 people. We both came out in the 1990s – a time when that meant seeing no one “like you” out and proud in your community.

I agree with Razer that to know the history of this community is to have pride. We have survived and accomplished so much. We have continued to recognize within ourselves the human dignity and the rights to life, liberty, and happiness while much of the world has sought only to oppress and harm us.

LGBTQIA2S+ folks are not the only or the primary community facing injustice in the United States today. And we live in intersectionality. Those of us living in multiple marginal identities suffer greatly.

But we do find ourselves being dehumanized and becoming a “wedge.” Take note: we aren’t an issue one can take exception to or a thing whose existence is up for debate. We are people.

This June, I ask you to take Pride to its basics: accomplishments and dignity.

Take the time to learn about this community, whether a part of it or an ally. I do encourage you, no matter your sexual orientation or gender identity, to spend some of this month researching LGBTQIA2S+ history. Read. Listen. Watch. Find the LGBTQIA2S+ people throughout human history: we have been there. And invest yourself in what we still need to accomplish!

This month, and every month, recognize and affirm that you are, in the words of the National Association of Social Workers (NASW) Code of Ethics, treating every LGBTQIA2S+ person (perhaps including yourself) “in a caring and respectful fashion, mindful of individual differences and cultural and ethnic diversity” (NASW, 2021).

And if you are part of my community– assert your dignity. I see you.

This is Pride, everyone! In the midst of so many struggles, we can and do have PRIDE.

Cassie E. Brown, MSW, LCSW (she/her/hers) is the executive director of the NASW Missouri Chapter. Her career has included direct social work services, in- and outpatient therapy, adjunct teaching, and program development and evaluation. She has been an in-demand speaker on topics such as self-care, compassion fatigue, LGBTQIA+ best practices, and the stigma of mental illness. She has worked in advocacy for the LGBTQIA+ community in Kentucky and Missouri at the micro, mezzo, and macro practice levels and serves as a member of the NASW DEI Committee. Cassie is a native of rural Missouri and is the first of her family to graduate college. She is passionate about underserved communities, intersectionality, and finding connections between people’s stories. In addition to social work, Cassie is a published author of poetry, essays, and short fiction and a tea aficionado.

Prejudice to Pride: Moving from Homophobia to Acceptance describes a journey, moving from ignorance and falsehoods about gay men and lesbians toward understanding and acceptance of the gay community. The book contains the knowledge and experiences of lesbian and gay people meant to educate people about who gay people are, in the hope that people will understand and support the gay community.

The book is divided into five sections and 16 chapters covering a range of issues, including: Heterosexist parents’ influence on their gay children’s lives; how gay people remain closeted or come out; coming out; the role of organized religious leaders in preventing equality for gay men and lesbians; the past labeling of homosexuality as a mental disorder and its effect on gay people’s mental health; damage caused by homophobia; and attitudes and beliefs and gay advocacy and equality.

Identifying Moral Panic

Using the sociological framework of moral panic—periods of exaggerated public fear triggered by high-profile incidents linked to feared social groups—Michael H. Eversman illuminates historic and contemporary moral panic episodes to show how political discourse and stereotyping lead to policymaking and enforcement that maintain social inequalities. Those most affected by these harsh and reactionary policies tend to be vulnerable populations known as “folk devils”—young people, public assistance recipients, immigrants, LGBTQ individuals, those with mental illness, and illicit drug users—groups that have long served as feared targets of moral condemnation.

Today, social work and human services professionals must be prepared to deliver knowledgeable and unbiased services to lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender persons. For the first time, an unprecedented new resource sheds light on effective practice with LGBT populations. Presented in a thorough and sensitive style, Affirmative Practice delivers an extraordinary study of the history, knowledge, theory, and techniques that provide a framework for affirmative and nonjudgmental practice.

Affirmative Practice chronicles the history of LGBT communities and provides an intimate understanding of the LGBT lifestyle from individual, family, and community perspectives. Drawing from extensive research and using clear, crisp writing, the authors examine the cultural, social, political, and legal issues within each community and address special groups along racial, ethnic, and age criteria.

Social justice is the fuel that drives social workers and what sets social work apart from other professions. Social workers form the front line of defense for their clients and make up the threads of society’s social safety net. The strength of that net, however, depends not just on the strengths of social workers, but also on the social policies that undergird their practice, defining the horizons of possibility – for themselves and their clients – in specific situations.

In Social Work Matters: The Power of Linking Policy and Practice, Elizabeth F. Hoffler and Elizabeth J. Clark bring home the truth embodied in that title for practitioners and researchers in a comprehensive range of settings. At heart, the book argues that social work matters because the profession is absolutely necessary to the healthy functioning of society.

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For more information about all NASW Press titles, including books, eBooks, reference works, journals, brochures, and standards, visit the NASW Press website. If you have questions, please send an email to NASWPress@BrightKey.net or call 1-800-227-3590.

May 17 is recognized as International Day Against Homophobia, Transphobia and Biphobia, a day many people around the globe celebrate gender and sexual diversity — and collectively confront oppression, discrimination, intolerance, and violence that many LGBTQIA2S+ people experience daily.

The significance of May 17 is that on that day in 1990 the diagnosis of “homosexuality” was no longer recognized in the ICD 10 — the 10th revision of the International Statistical Classification of Diseases and Related Health Problems, a medical classification designated by the World Health Organization.

Over time it has evolved to become more inclusive in representation to also honor transgender, nonbinary, gender expansive, intersex, bisexual identities, differing characteristics and expressions. Some perceive it as an intersectional movement, and as many things in the queer+ community, there is no singular definition or representation nor is one necessary. Social workers honor those they work with as experts on their cultures.

As social workers represent the greatest volume of mental and behavioral health professionals, perhaps it makes sense for us to be leading conversations about whether using terminology such as homophobia, transphobia, intersexphobia, biphobia is best practice. The word “phobia” commonly has clinical and diagnostic associations and implications. Therefore, it seems reasonable to question the societal impact of using the word “phobia” when it is most commonly used to describe prejudice and intolerance that might be more accurately defined as heteronormativity and heterosexism.

Is this an opportunity for our profession to provide education as we take a nonjudgmental and dialectical stance when advocating in solidarity with those in the LGBTQIA2S+ community?

Social workers tend to be familiar with calls to action and recognize the importance of advocacy, social justice and its role in changing minds and policy. Education and awareness and ongoing commitment to growing as a professional are some of the reasons social workers empower others to break barriers.

Jo Seiders, LCSW, CDE, is the Senior Human Rights Policy Associate of Diversity, Equity & Inclusion for the National Association of Social Workers.

The case concerns Carrie Pueblo and Rachel Haas — partners in a committed same-sex relationship — who chose to have a child together using assisted insemination, with Ms. Haas carrying the child. In 2014, the relationship ended before same sex marriage was legalized by the U.S. Supreme Court, but they continued to share custody and parenting of the child.  

In 2017, Ms. Haas requested that Ms. Pueblo have no further contact with their child.  Ms. Pueblo filed a complaint seeking joint legal and physical custody. The trial court and the Michigan Court of Appeals ruled in Ms. Haas’s favor, finding that because Ms. Haas and Ms. Pueblo were never married, and Ms. Pueblo is not a legal parent or related to the child, she has no right to assert custody. Ms. Pueblo’s case is now before the Michigan Supreme Court.  

NASW submits amicus briefs to offer the social work perspective in court cases that impact social workers and the communities they support.

The amicus brief in this case urges the court to consider the best interests of the child. Making an unnecessary change to a child’s relationship with their parent can cause serious emotional harm to the child.

Social science research confirms that the bonds of attachment are critical for a child’s healthy development. It does not matter whether there is a biological or legal connection between the parent and child. 

NASW supports protecting the familial attachments between LGBTQ couples and their children and recognizes that these familial relationships are of the same strength, depth, and importance to the healthy development of children as the relationships of opposite-sex couples and their children.  

Other organizations filing amicus briefs were ACLU of Michigan, the Family Law Section of the State Bar of MI, GLBTQ Legal Advocates & Defenders (GLAD), Lambda Legal Defense & Education Fund, LGBTQA Law Section of the State Bar of Michigan, Affirmations LGBTQ+ Community Center, the American Academy of Matrimonial Lawyers, MI Chapter, and the National Center for Lesbian Rights.

The court has until July 31, 2023 to issue an opinion on the case.

NASW’s involvement in this case was coordinated by its Legal Defense Fund (LDF). Since 1972, the LDF has provided financial legal assistance and support for legal cases and issues of concern to NASW members and the social work profession. LDF supports educational projects and programs to improve the legal status and knowledge of the social work profession.

Learn more about NASW’s Legal Defense Fund.

Read more about this case

• LGBTQ child custody case goes before Michigan Supreme Court (MLive)
• Custody rights for separated LGBTQ couples could be affected by Michigan Supreme Court case (USA Today)
• Read the brief in NASW’s Legal Defense Fund amicus brief database (NASW members only)

What sex are you? The answer to that question was assigned to you at birth. You did not choose it, and the answer shapes much of the course of your life.

For nearly everyone, biological and gender distinctions are aligned. However, experts say, 1.43% of adolescents aged 13-17 and 0.52% of all adults aged 18 and older in the U.S. identify as transgender. Less than 0.3% of adolescents meet criteria for gender dysphoria and request or receive gender-affirming healthcare, according to the study, Size and Distribution of Transgender and Gender Nonconforming Populations: A Narrative Review.

Since 2021, 30 states have banned gender-affirming healthcare despite research demonstrating improved mental health and well-being for youth who receive treatment. Experts say that most professional health organizations support gender-affirming care.

On March 28, three days before the 2023 Transgender Day of Visibility, the National Association of Social Workers issued a news release that joined with other professional organizations opposing bans on gender-affirming healthcare, calling upon “all members of the social work profession to support, promote, affirm and ‘protect the rights, legal benefits, and privileges of people of all gender identities and expressions.”

Nevertheless, the NASW proclamation needed to go further and emphasize the organization’s ethical commitment to challenging social injustice and social workers’ ethical responsibilities to the broader society, as stated in Section 6 of the 2021 NASW Code of Ethics. I do not identify as transgender, although I am a woman who transitioned, with gender-affirming surgery in 1996, ending years of a chronic eating disorder and suicidality after a gay psychiatrist had the wisdom to help me begin transitioning during a hospitalization following an attempted suicide. Not receiving gender-affirming healthcare in adolescence led to physical masculinization that was terrifying and repulsive.

After years of ongoing therapy, I earned my MSW and became a licensed social worker. I have never been “out” before, ordinarily confining my disclosures to clinical supervisors, diversity venues, and certain healthcare professionals. As a licensed social worker who has transitioned, I have the lived and professional experience to understand the suffering and repulsion of living with a body discordant with one’s experienced and expressed gender. I recognize the importance of the support from professionals that alleviates mental health issues with gender-affirming healthcare. I call upon all social workers to fulfill their ethical responsibilities to promote social change and take action to oppose bans on gender-affirming care and work to repeal them in states where they have been enacted. Fulfilling your ethical responsibilities will help save the lives of transgender and gender-diverse adolescents.

Disclaimer: The National Association of Social Workers invites members to share their expertise and experiences through Member Voices. This blog was prepared by Robin M. Mathy in her personal capacity and does not necessarily reflect the view of the National Association of Social Workers.

Robin M. Mathy is a volunteer therapist at A Home Within. It provides free, ongoing therapy for current and former foster children — a disproportionate percentage of whom are LGBTQ. You can reach Robin at rmathy@capellauniversity.edu.

America, seemingly suddenly, finds itself in the middle of the most existentially threatening crisis of racism and intolerance since the events leading up to and including the Civil War. As was the case over 160 years ago, the present-day neo-fascist and white supremacy crusade is directly driven racial enmity — compounded by deep animus toward religious minorities (Jews and Muslims), the LGBTQ+ community, as well as women’s reproductive rights.

This threat to democracy did not rise out of a vacuum. It has existed as a philosophy and a movement for many years. However, the candidacy and ultimate ascension of Donald Trump to the presidency, effectively opened the door to normalizing racism by enthusiastically inviting white supremacists to have a visible leadership role in his campaign.       

More recently, Governor Ron DeSantis has perpetuated the disparagement of communities of color, religious minorities and the LGBTQ+ community for political purposes. The truth is, DeSantis and Trump are relative newcomers to aggressively undermining racial and social justice progress in the United States. A furtive movement toward repressive authoritarianism and overt assaults against Blacks and other communities has been multifaceted, and has played out in the shadows for a while.

For example, Trump and DeSantis have thrived in a political environment that already included a fully formed voter suppression drive that began with gutting of the Voting Rights Act  by the Supreme Court in 2013. That decision opened the flood gates for steadily expanding voter suppression laws in many states. When we add in the anti-female reproductive rights Dobbs decision by the Supreme Court, and many draconian ant-abortion laws that followed that decision, we can see gravity of the situation.

Many national political leaders, civil rights, religious organizations, and social justice groups have begun to ring the alarms about what is truly an existential crisis that threatened democracy as we know it. These groups agree that this threat to the African American community and others is both real and—if left unchecked—imminent. Indeed, the socio-economic impact of the attacks by America’s far-right is already being felt by  millions of Americans being targeted by nihilistic right-wing zealots.  

While the ominous resurgence of white Supremacy poses a danger to racial and religious minorities, we must not lose sight of the resurgence of white male authoritarianism that seeks to relegate women to second-class citizenship by denying them body autonomy.  Such repressive reproductive health policies and laws have already reached a level of dangerous hysteria by far-right legislators. This hysteria has resulted in extreme laws that criminalize abortion, including the death penalty. Relatedly, the State of Wyoming recently became the first state to impose criminal penalties to  “prescribe, dispense, distribute, sell or use any drug for the purpose of procuring or performing an abortion.”

The point is that criminalization of abortion, the precipitous rise in racism/ethnocentrism, and extreme anti-LGBTQ+ movement are all intersectional. What draws them together is that collectively they are targets of well-funded and well-coordinated political and socially conservative factions that have declared war on so-called “woke” values.

Truth be told, the term “woke” has been cynically and purposefully re-inserted into national lexicon by the far-right factions, led by Gov. DeSantis. As used by the far-right, the term has been weaponized by not so subtly linking the word to the 1960s Civil Rights Movement and the more recent Black Lives Matter activism. Thereby reinforcing Black resentment among whites, including white Supremacists.

All of which can sound like being just juvenile dirty tricks. However, what this coordinated ultra-conservative effort is by no means child play. These comprehensive attacks are deadly serious and are intent on escalating, leading up to and beyond the 2024 presidential elections.

Many far-right organizations are very experienced and singularly structured to mobilize against their perceived enemies. We should further remind ourselves that these groups are expert at mobilizing their members and keeping their members’ energy and commitment at a fever pitch.

As a result, it is without a doubt that the far-right is in full mobilization and strategy mode for their most important objective—winning the Office of the Presidency. Should they capture the Presidency (as well as the U.S. Senate), the far-right will have control of all three pillars of government.  The situation becomes more ominous when we realize that the Republicans also control 55% of  state legislative bodies.

It is far from clear that those of us who are in opposition to the far-right’s agenda are anywhere near as prepared when is comes to neutralizing this threat to democracy—especially when it comes to tightly coordinating their opposition with allies.

Such coordination has its challenges in that the necessary planning, mobilization and messaging among such a diverse stakeholder group will be expensive and logistically difficult. But, given that American democracy itself is hanging in the balance with the results of the 2024 elections,  stakeholder organization and advocacy group must make every effort to overcome those challenges.

Finally, it is important that social work leadership—especially NASW—become fully committed to respond to this threat by joining in coalition with national civil rights, human rights and religious organizations. With the social work professions long and storied history of social justice activism, we must take our rightful place in preventing resolving this existential crisis for American democracy.

Disclaimer: The National Association of Social Workers invites members to share their expertise and experiences through Member Voices. This blog was prepared by Mel Wilson in his personal capacity and does not necessarily reflect the view of the National Association of Social Workers.

Mel Wilson, LCSW, MBA, is the retired Senior Policy Advisor for the National Association of Social Workers. He continues to be active on a range social policy area including youth justice, immigration, criminal justice, and drug policy. He is a co-chairperson on the Justice Roundtable’s Drug Policy Reform Working Group.

I live in a tiny town in a rural county, and I advocate for LGBTQIA+ folks like me. I fly rainbow flags on my home. I stand out, because going back into the closet isn’t an option. The school buses pass my house every morning on the way to the same school I attended, terrified, where I heard threats, veiled and openly violent, that kept people like me silent.

I hope that the kids who sit on the right side of the bus notice them.

I am me now, for me and for the people who come after me.

One of our ethical social work values is Social Justice—that we exist as a profession to fight social injustice. I believe in this value to my core. My colleagues do, too, I have found. We reach out to each other when things are hard. We collaborate and strategize to make things better. We celebrate the sunshine of our hard-won victories together.

From where I sit, looking out at a blue December sky, I feel the cold creeping in and the winter holidays coming. I know that like winter weather, while storms leave, they come back, too.

My trunk has a first aid kit, basic car tools, a spare tire, and a winter blanket, because I know that winter weather can strike here in Missouri when we least expect it. A beautiful day can turn dark and dangerous with a quickness.

When I came out in 1998, I was afraid for my life. I shared with my mother and a number of people that could be counted on one hand that I was not heterosexual.

When I came out in 1998, I thought the kind of life expected where I grew up – rural Missouri, where the Ozarks kiss the prairies – was over. If I was outed, I would lose my opportunity for physical safety and a productive job.

I would never have a home within a faith community. I would be an outcast. I couldn’t imagine finding love where I lived.

And marriage was out of the question.

Two years prior, President Bill Clinton (D), signed the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) passed by the 104th Congress which “specifically defined marriage as the union of one man and one woman which allowed individual states to not recognize same-sex marriages that were performed and recognized under other states’ laws.”

And in 1998, the year I came out, two states (Hawa’ii and Alaska) passed constitutional amendments that barred marriage equality.

It was clear that as the LGBTQIA+ rights movement raised its profile, so too did resistance to equality. My existence became a wedge issue. The fundamental rights of my friends to be granted the dignity of equity by the state (including faith-based weddings) was subject to public discourse. Our lives were up for debate.

Reasonable people, I was told, could disagree.

Why are they asking for marriage? I heard this over and over again. Why this word? Can’t they just have domestic partnerships? Civil commitments? Something else?

There is nothing else.

As I moved through my queer life, I met gay men, functionally widowers, who had been kicked out and lost everything when the men who should have been their husbands died of AIDS-related diseases. Without the pervasive protections conferred automatically and easily by the act of marriage in the United States, the families of their dead swooped in, removing them from the homes they lived in (but had not automatically inherited), funeral planning (without rights to their beloved’s body), and financial means (without connection to their spousal survivor’s benefits).

Even families who had included these men’s names on Christmas cards, left their names off of obituaries. Where their beloved’s presence had protected them from scorn, their absence made them vulnerable to be thrown away.

More than that, dignity and humanity arise only from equal opportunity. We know that to be treated differently in this way is to be treated as lesser.

And I felt that difference keenly over my adult life, seeing the ragged patchwork of equality, difference, and outright discrimination that developed state by state by state. Where you lived determined who you were.

In one state you might be a full person, your rights under the law recognized to marry – by the state or within your faith – the person you loved and with whom you wished to share your life. Cross an imagined border, and you were given an “alternative option” – something approximating marriage. Something close, but not quite the same as your sister, or your father, or your best friend.

Cross another invisible line, and nothing is available to you but potential criminal prosecution for engaging in an adult relationship. Massachusetts began recognizing same-gender marriage in 2004.3 Same-gender sexual contact remained illegal in my home state of Missouri until 2006.

When the Supreme Court decided Obergefell v. Hodges in June 2015, I cried. I remembered what it was like to be 17 and scared. I knew that this was the biggest step yet: marriage equality for people like me and so many people I cared about. With that decision, marriage equality nationalized. It is worth noting that just like the widowers I had met, the eponymous plaintiff, Jim Obergefell, fought for the right to be named as the surviving spouse on his husband’s death certificate in Ohio.

But, as before, when our profile raised, as it did on June 26th, 2015, the fight wasn’t over. It somehow intensified. Attacks continued. New rationales emerged against people like me. People screamed, raged, and cried about the ways that other people receiving their rights somehow detracted from their own.

That brings me to now.

The bipartisan passage of the Respect for Marriage Act, which was signed by President Biden yesterday, formally overturned DOMA and codified the protections of Loving v. Virginia (1967) and Obergefell v. Hodges to protect and legalize same-gender and interracial marriage in the United States.

And I fear the backlash now as much as ever. When DOMA was signed, I assumed it was forever. While the Respect for Marriage Act has been signed today, I cannot afford to believe it will be forever either.

Celebrate this victory, all of us! Celebrate hard-fought, long-needed legislation with me! Legislation I thought might never come!

I see my rainbow flags whipping proudly in a chilly wind today. I smile to see their defiant colors. They are so necessary, a counterpoint to the cold, to the white houses up and down the block of my small town. But sometimes those things that are bright are the easy targets, especially when the rest of the world darkens.

Understand that many of us are buttoning up our coats and watching the skies.

Will you watch with us?

About the Author

Hi, folks. I’m Cassie Brown, executive director of the NASW Missouri Chapter. I’m queer and nonbinary. I primarily use she/her pronouns. I’m also a writer, clinician, tea aficionado, former speech, debate, and theatre kid, a singer, a sister, a daughter, a retired teacher, a poet, a painter, a huge board game geek, a Capricorn, a friend, and a community activist. I know what you’re thinking. Just when you think you know someone, you find out they’re a Capricorn.

Disclaimer: The National Association of Social Workers invites members to share their expertise and experiences through Member Voices. This blog was prepared by Cassie Brown in her personal capacity and does not necessarily reflect the view of the National Association of Social Workers.