Lez Miserable: "I want a gigantic, champagne-drenched, public celebration of same-sex love"

The instinctive urge to get married is a hard one to rationalise, finds Eleanor Margolis, but she could do without being judged by other members of the gay community.

It’s not often that I’m moved by Muppets. I can appreciate that Kermit has a hard time being green and Oscar the Grouch is a depressive who lives in a dustbin. That’s some reasonably high quality pathos, but it doesn’t quite reduce me to tears. Seeing Bert and Ernie, outed as a gay couple, on the other hand, snuggled up on the sofa on last week’s DOMA-bashing New Yorker cover got me genuinely choked up (the happy sort). And, frankly, I don’t know who I am any more. The controversial cover is not only exceptionally twee, but arguably irreverent towards the bitterly-fought battle for gay rights that has a rainbow coloured trail of carnage leading right back to the Stonewall riots of the 60s. Yet I found myself looking at two of my favourite childhood characters in a state of gay domestic bliss and thinking, “I want that.”

So there we have it, last week, a pair of fuzzy-faced humanoids made me want to get married and spawn 2.4 biblically-named children. I haven’t been this easily influenced by the Muppets since Sesame Street gave me the low-down on the letter D when I was a toddler. OK – this feeling isn’t entirely new. I’ve always had a thing for monogamy. And cake. Sentimentality? Not so much. Weddings I can take or leave. The “take” part is mostly free booze-driven. So why the hell would I want to get married?

There’s a small but loud voice within the LGBT community that throws scorn on the idea of queers aping a heteronormative institution. I can see where this rowdy lot are coming from – what’s the point in marriage in the first place? But I just can’t bring myself to join them. Every time I see gays slating gay marriage, I feel this weird pang of sadness. Weddings may well be these bizarrely ritualistic and mawkish conformity-fests, but there’s no reason why the entire institution of marriage should be hetero-owned. If gays want to appropriate a slightly fusty, traditionally straight practice, who gives a white, frilly frock? Rejecting a right that’s been so ferociously fought for is one thing, but labelling those who embrace it as traitors to the queer cause is hateful.

Plus, what’s going to hurt the homophobes more: bile-flecked in-fighting about the intricacies of queer politics or a gigantic, bacchanalian, champagne-drenched, public celebration of same-sex love? Bitterly judging members of our own community for “selling out” is a pretty poor approach to making the world less shitty for LGBT people. Why not, instead, take our gigantic hard-ons for one another and rub them in the haters’ faces?

I’ve tried to work out exactly what it is that makes me want to get married and I can’t. It’s almost an instinctive urge though, so I’m willing to accept that I’ve been socially conditioned. A part of me definitely sees gay weddings as a big middle finger to the conservatives and religious nutjobs who think they own marriage. There’s no doubt that I want to play a part in that middle finger brandishing. But saying a loud, “fuck you”, to society seems like a dysfunctional reason to celebrate your love for someone. Maybe a part of me (my inner child?) just wants to wear a pretty dress and throw a party for all the people I love. But what about the spending the rest of my life with one person part? Maybe that should scare me, but it doesn’t. Being single, I’m a long way off that kind of commitment and I’m still not averse to having fun. But I imagine that if I were having more casual sex, I’d be starting to get bored with it.

Whatever my reasons for wanting to get married may be, I feel it’s my right not to be judged by members of my own community. Hey – fellow gays - let’s leave the judging to Norman Tebbit, yeah? With the UK’s brand new equal marriage legislation, I’m looking  forward to getting my first gay wedding invitations from my friends in relationships. No pressure, guys.

Now find out whether same-sex marriage could threaten traditional gender roles (clue: only if it magically turned everyone gay).

 

A same-sex marriage supporter outside the Supreme Court in the US. Photograph: Getty Images

Eleanor Margolis is a freelance journalist, whose "Lez Miserable" column appears weekly on the New Statesman website.

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Jeremy Corbyn and his opponents are now locked in a permanent struggle

Labour MPs will neither accept Corbyn’s leadership nor abandon the party if he wins again.

 

In September 2003, outraged by Tony Blair’s support for the Iraq War, Jeremy Corbyn declared in the Morning Star that there should be “an annual election for leader”. Thirteen years later, in rather different circumstances, his wish has been granted. Yet the Labour leader has little cause for regret. There is no evidence that the sequel will end differently from the original.

Having failed to force Corbyn to re-seek MP nominations (a decision being challenged in court by the Labour donor Michael Foster as the New Statesman went to press), his opponents imposed other obstacles. Those who had been members for less than six months were barred from voting. Registered supporters were required to pay £25 to participate, rather than last year’s £3. Corbyn’s foes hoped that both decisions would shrink his support base, perhaps to the point of defeat.

Yet the early indications are that he has cleared these hurdles. A YouGov poll published on 19 July found that among eligible members Corbyn would beat Owen Smith with 56 per cent of the vote to his opponent’s 34 per cent. Of the 140,000 registered supporters likely to be approved, between 55 and 75 per cent are thought to be pro-Corbyn. Although the leadership result will not be announced until 24 September, ballot papers will be distributed from 22 August. Smith, the former shadow work and pensions secretary, has less than a month to overturn Corbyn’s advantage.

The last Labour leader to face a contest was Neil Kinnock, challenged by Tony Benn in 1988. Today, the roles have been reversed. A hard-left Bennite is the incumbent, while a soft-left Welshman is the challenger. No one expects a result as resounding as that of 1988, when Kinnock prevailed with 89 per cent to Benn’s 11 per cent. Smith’s team concede that they are “the underdogs”.

It was as a “clean skin”, untainted by the Iraq War and service in the last Labour government, that the Pontypridd MP was endorsed by colleagues over Angela Eagle. But his low profile has been exploited by his opponents. Corbyn’s allies have framed Smith as a Big Pharma lobbyist (he was formerly head of policy for Pfizer) and an NHS privatiser (he suggested in 2006 that firms could provide “valuable services”). The Labour leader’s social media presence, the terrain on which party elections are now won and lost, gives him a formidable edge.

Some MPs believe that Smith should have defined himself more clearly in the six months between signalling his leadership ambitions and launching his campaign. Comparisons are drawn with Ed Miliband, who allowed his opponents to fill the vacuum following his victory in 2010.

Smith has made electability his defining dividing line with Corbyn. The leader’s supporters, however, either do not conceive of his project in such terms or regard his opponent as no more capable of winning. Victory for Smith, they fear, would precipitate a rightward shift on austerity and immigration. Some share the assessment of a shadow cabinet minister who told me that the aspirant leader would be challenged if he won. “The Blairites won’t rest until they’ve got their party back,” he said.

Corbyn’s team is confident of victory and confronts the charge of unelectability. A source spoke of the campaign as a chance to “showcase our levels of organisation” and “build a movement that can win a general election”. Labour MPs concede that they are unlikely to beat Corbyn but hope to narrow his margin of victory and win among full members. This would deny him the right to boast of an “overwhelming” mandate and grant his opponents greater legitimacy.

In any discussion of Labour’s crisis, the 1980s are invoked. But the differences are as notable as the similarities. The left today controls the leadership, rather than merely the constituencies; the trade unions are no longer right-aligned; a “one member, one vote” system has replaced the electoral college. It was in less adverse circumstances, then, that 28 Labour MPs joined the break­away Social Democratic Party in 1981. For this reason, the possibility of a new schism endlessly recurs in media debate. Yet it is not one that MPs intend to pursue.

Labour’s tribalists have no intention of leaving their party, while the more tactically minded see little potential for a new grouping to flourish. The electoral marketplace is too crowded to achieve power without coalitions, merely replicating present divisions in a new form. Theresa May’s economic interventionism further limits the space for a centre-left insurgency to occupy.

Rather than retreating, Labour MPs intend to mount repeated challenges to Corbyn. As one told me, “We only need to get lucky once. He needs to get lucky every time.” Corbyn’s allies are hopeful that some rebels will emulate Sarah Champion MP and rejoin the front bench if he wins. One suggested that the proposed boundary changes, which will be published on 13 September, would encourage discipline in order to prevent deselection by local activists. Still, most MPs have no intention of rescinding their opposition to Corbyn.

It is deselection by the electorate at large, rather than by members, that some in Labour fear most. Though May has ruled out an early contest (having privately assured backers that she would not trigger one), the temptation could prove irresistible. An ICM poll published on 26 July gave the Tories their highest lead (16 points) since 2009. Prime ministers are rarely stronger than when they first enter office, a lesson that Gordon Brown neglected fatally. But such are Labour’s divisions that May could conclude that she need not show haste. Until the members reflect the MPs, or the MPs reflect the members, unity will remain elusive. As Corbyn and his opponents contemplate a struggle with no obvious end, the prize that both seek is rapidly diminishing in value.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 28 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Summer Double Issue