CONSCIENTIOUS OBJECTOR
Who's your Friend?
(reprinted, with permission, from Everybody's News, Issue 550, April 2, 1999)
by Michael Blankenship
It's so easy to bash politicians. You become so accustomed to fraud, you sometimes fail to recognize who your genuine friends are. Real friends don't just parrot the correct phrases, they back them up with vigorous, unambiguous action. We should all take a step back to examine our true relationships in the local political establishment. Who's really willing to go to bat for us? And then ask, "What have you done for us lately?"
I went up to the Equality Begins at Home rally in Columbus, a statewide effort to assert at the state level those civil rights under attack on the local and national levels. I had to get past my pessimistic prediction that it would be a bunch of PC prostheletizing, with everyone then returning home to continue doing nothing. But I got my eyes opened. There were elected officials, city councilors, unabashedly gay ones, standing together in an ill wind on the state house grounds and staking a claim for the future. And even one man, not even a gay man, who was standing in friendship against that ill wind with them, and with us, and staking a claim for the future of Cincinnati.
Todd Portune has been a remarkably consistent friend in his representation of the concerns of all people, including the queer community, for many years. He has been more aggressive, more skillful, and more faithful to queer voters than any councilor, or dare I say mayor, of the past decade, arguably ever.
Not just last month in Columbus, but last week in council, launching his improved and expanded hate crimes ordinance (bringing along Jeannette Cissel, a Republican, and the wandering Democrat Minnette Cooper). But also at the Julian Bond speech at Xavier, at the memorial for Matthew Shepard and simultaneous rally for Repeal of Issue 3, and every year he's the guy on council who delivers the mayor's proclamation. This guy deserves credit. He deserves support.
I caught up with him after his Hate Crimes press conference in council chambers and he graciously agreed to an impromptu interview in his office. I asked him what he felt the best way to deal with his opposition would be, and he replied, "Be direct. We're talking about criminal activity that targets an entire community of people. It's more damaging for that reason."
When I mention that his supportive advocacy might mean risking some political capital, he replies immediately. "Why is it a risk? This job means nothing if it doesn't mean representing the rights of all people. I've never had to think twice about it, because there's no middle ground, you either do it or you don't." He then adds, "This seat is a real privilege. The second you start sacrificing core principles to hold onto the seat is the second you don't belong."
Todd Portune will have one more opportunity to claim that seat before term limits will sideline him, at least in terms of city council. But what about that newest "strong mayor" proposal? I knew next-to-nothing about it, but automatically assumed it was another ploy by big business to take over local government. I now understand its major backers are folks like the Charter Committee, the NAACP, and individuals from civic groups and all three parties. Friends I'm more likely to trust.
If Portune is harboring any aspirations in this psychodrama, he's doing his best not to display them, and won't participate in either campaign. "I'm in favor of an end to the debate," he says. "Let the people tell us, and end the debate."
We talk freely about another range of topics, before getting back to hate crimes legislation. I decide to hand him a copy of my November column relating my personal experience in the matter, and ask him if Federal legislation was not already in effect, enabling police to identify and count hate crimes as such. After his assurance that it is, I point out that it has obviously not penetrated to the officers on the scene. And the same holds true for Mr. Portune's effort. The fact of legislation would be great, but the attitudinal change has to be effected on the personal level, on the scene, on the street, on the beat. Laws means nothing if the cops ignore them, or are not trained to respond to them, and that's what they did, or didn't do, with me.
"What should you say to the police if you're the victim of a hate crime?" I ask, but after just hearing that my insistence upon such reporting had failed to be honored, what could he say? "Just what you said," he replied, but with a tinge of uncharacteristic hesitation He then added, "I'm a little uncertain how to respond to that." My case seemed to have struck a nerve; pin-pointed a flaw in the works. But the fact remains: it's going to be much easier to get five politicians to support hate crimes legislation than it will be to get the cops on the beat, the ones expected to carry it out.
I thanked the councilor for his candor, and his time, and headed out. I'll have to do some more thinking about this "strong mayor" plan, but I'm fairly certain that if there was anyone I would be willing to support in that job, it would be Todd Portune. I like the idea of having a friend in office who'll speak out and take a risk, no matter what ill wind is blowing at the time. After all, friends stand up for each other, don't they?
