Previous | Next 

VIEWPOINT
Confessions of a novice activist

Faye Kliewer

The following is what really happened to me on July 24, 2002.

I work in a church office and happened to receive an e-mail from a Christian activist who was notifying people that a Manitoba Legislative Committee was about to have hearings on Bill 34, “The Compliance Act”. The e-mail led me to the actual text of the bill on the Internet. It essentially was a bill to give same-sex couples equal rights to adopt children. It made same-sex relationships equivalent to common-law marriages through a “declaration of commitment” or certificate of “marriage”. It appeared that the committee was fast-tracking this legislation through in a special summer session, with a minimum of publicity, in order to avoid opposition.

Something about this issue urged me to advertise it in our church bulletin, encouraging people to call their MLA to state their opinion, call the Premier or call to register to appear at the hearing.

I advertised it for two Sundays. Did anyone ask me how to register for the hearing? No. I hope that they at least called their MLA. So, encouraged by my e-mail “pen pal”, I committed myself to make a speech at the hearing. I did a bit of research on the Internet and in a couple of evenings had a passable script, or so I thought.

The night of the hearing arrived, and I became nervous. What if my script was useless? What if some gay activist got my address or work number and harassed me? All kinds of possibilities danced through my mind. But I stayed with my commitment and drove to the legislative building with determination and a prayer – or several. I parked the car and walked up the steps, my heart pounding. I was accustomed to people liking me. What if someone got angry with me?

I went in and asked for directions. I was told to follow the group of gentlemen ahead of me, so I did. Apparently the directions weren’t very clear, because they got lost. Eventually, we did find the right room, but we were early and had to wait. People started to arrive. We all looked at each other and tried to discern which side the other was on. Some were hard to tell; some were very easy. I couldn’t decide whether one person was a man or a woman – until he spoke; I later found out that he was “in transition”. Many women wore men’s clothing and stylish spiked haircuts.

Finally, we went inside, and our names were checked off as to who was registered to speak. My number was 37. It was going to be a long evening.

Once everyone was settled, the group of MLAs around the big table started the preliminaries, deciding who would speak first and how long the evening would go. It was decided that the French speaker would go first, the people with children next, then the out-of-towners and finally the rest of us.

I don’t know what the French guy said, because it wasn’t translated. Then the lesbian couples paraded up with their children, showing how loving and caring they were. Most looked like average people. Two clean-cut, well educated young men testified that “we just want to be dads”. A long line of lesbians and a few gay men testified about the complications that ensued whenever they applied for adoption. They were mistreated, misunderstood and made to feel ashamed. They were denied rights to adopt their partner’s biological children, and were generally discriminated against. There were sad stories – really heart-wrenching – and I was beginning to feel sorry for them. After the gay pride parade in Winnipeg, one of the lesbian mothers had felt threatened by a man in a car who had looked at her funny. Then a woman who said she was a minister of a church started gushing about how homosexuals are misunderstood and how Bill 34 was just what was needed to provide equal rights for these new families. Many congratulated the committee on this “cutting edge” bill that would finally bring Manitoba into the present.

I was feeling more and more overwhelmed by the testimonies of the homosexual people. I was ashamed that heterosexual bigots would mistreat them so badly. They needed their rights protected. They wanted to have families, just like everyone else. They were so loving! There were smart lawyers and human rights people saying how wonderful this bill was. Another man even said that God condoned homosexuality. I cringed at that one.

I shrank in my chair, looked at my script and was tempted to not read it. It was inadequate. I was tempted to read just a portion, and then leave the full copy with the committee.

I snapped back to attention. Finally the opposition was speaking! It was then that I realized the truth about the legislation being fast-tracked. The speakers were to speak in the order that they registered. That was why all of the homosexuals spoke first. They must have known about it way ahead of time. That was why the opposition was at the end. Was it also a coincidence that the two TV news cameras took all kinds of footage at the beginning of the session when the lesbian couples were showing off their cute babies and that the cameramen were nowhere to be found when the opposition spoke?

Then a certain lady of the opposition spoke up. She was eloquent. She said all the things I would have wished to say. She had research. She had statistics. She talked about the people who had no say in this whole matter – the children. Yes, what about the children? All of the previous heart-felt stories by adults were about proclaiming “my rights”. What about the right of a child to have a father and a mother – two people who complemented each other and didn’t cause confusion as a child grew up? What about the kids who are teased at school because they have two mommies?

This woman had spunk. I was moved, and wished I had a better speech. I realized that I had been lulled by the homosexual advocates. I was starting to feel sorry for them, and to forget the real issues. My confidence slowly returned, and I started to weep.

All of a sudden, my name was called. I had to follow this woman. What could I possibly say? Without realizing what I was doing, I followed the routine, producing my 20 copies for the nice lady who would distribute them. I went to the lectern and tried to control my shaking voice. “How can I follow that?” I asked, gesturing to the previous speaker. “She said it all!” Then I began, “I haven’t done all the hours of research she has done, but I will say what I came to say.” I went to the main point of my speech and shortened it, in order to emphasize it. My point was that Bill 34 was part of an agenda, where the next step would be to re-define the age-old institution of marriage. Then I repeated that the government was making major changes to benefit a minority of people, which in the end would cause the majority of the population to have to change their values. I could see some sympathy reflected in the faces of some of the committee, but there had been sympathy in their faces before. I finished, thanked them, and sat down. Suddenly the people who had been sitting around me were patting me on the shoulder and telling me I did good.

The bill’s flaws were starting to appear. It didn’t have any research backing it up as to how well kids grow up in a same-sex home. It didn’t require adults to disclose criminal records or pedophile records. It had no back-up plans to investigate prospective parents, to hire extra psychiatrists, and counsellors. The legislative assembly hadn’t even informed Child and Family Services that the bill was being presented. The CFS director was unaware of the amendments and how this would affect CFS work. Three departments within CFS didn’t know about it. The lady from the CFS Department of Adoptions had no idea what changes were coming forward; she knew of the bill, but thought that it was only in relation to “them” adopting “their own” children. The director of Children’s Advocacy was on vacation. There were so many good points made that I can’t remember them all.

A couple of pastors spoke. Personally, I thought they were too “preachy.” They brought up some good points, but the committee tended to look sleepy during the pastors’ messages. Another gentleman who was a private investigator gave the committee some ideas on how to research the bill further and how to correct the flaws. I felt better. The committee was finally hearing something that made sense. The children were the first priority. Something had to be done to make sure that the bill protected them. What if some day adopted children sued the government for preventing them from having a mom and dad?

It was already 11:00 p.m., and the numbers of people were dwindling. I decided to leave and write all I could remember on my computer. As I left, I commented to another gentleman on what a one-sided view the media had of the evening. He said that that was the way it was, so much money was being thrown at the gay community’s coalition that this bill would probably be “rammed through” anyway. I thought about that. At least, I had had a say.

But what about all the other churches that my pen pal had notified? Where were they? Why didn’t they fill that room with opposition?

Fear. A few of the homosexual speakers had called the opposition “bigots and homophobics”. They were afraid – just as I had been at the beginning – afraid of being labelled, afraid of being embarrassed. I was ashamed, partly because I had been tempted to give up in the midst of all the stories told by the gays and lesbians. I don’t hate them. They are people just like me. God loves them. I love them, too. I wish that other people didn’t treat them so unkindly. It makes the rest of us look bad. I was also ashamed that no one else from my church came. I was ashamed that so few came to speak on behalf of the children.

That’s my version of the night. I don’t regret a minute. I believe that God told me to go there. I believe that God wanted me to think about someone else instead of myself and my own problems. I don’t know if I really contributed, but I won’t shirk my responsibilities again.

Are we as Mennonite Brethren shirking our duties to other Christians of the world? Do we care what happens in our government? Will God hold us accountable for standing still while our world promotes immorality?

Faye Kliewer is a member of Portage Ave. MB Church in Winnipeg.

Previous | Next 

Last modified November 21, 2002.

© 2002 Mennonite Brethren Herald.
Published by the Canadian Conference of MB Churches.
Masthead and usage information.