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Loading ...Neff: Imagine equality – in bed
I scanned the station offerings on my car radio and settled on my local NPR station.
The “Ballad of John and Yoko” caught my ear.
“Drove from Paris to the Amsterdam HiltonTalking in our beds for a week
The news people said, ‘Say what’re you doing in bed?’
I said, ‘We’re only trying to get us some peace.’”
You know the next line: “Christ you know it ain’t easy.”
No, it’s not.
I had caught the near-start of an NPR report on the 40th anniversary of the bed-ins staged by John Lennon and Yoko Ono on the occasion of their honeymoon.
At the risk of giving readers more cause to think me a hippie — despite the fact that I’m 45 and was more interested in the theme song to “The Brady Bunch” than The Beatles in 1969 — I listened and teared up.
Organizers with The World March for Peace and Nonviolence, bringing back the bed-in to promote global peace, placed a bed in New York’s Central Park not far from Strawberry Fields and the Dakota apartment building where Lennon and Ono lived and where Lennon died.
One peace-minded person after another stepped forward to a microphone or settled on the bed to make a statement.
I tried to visualize the event — NPR usually does a pretty good job of helping listeners do just that.
I imagined a gay couple climbing into bed in Central Park to make a statement for peace and, in the course of doing so, making a statement for GLBT equality and justice, too.
A bed.
An ordinary household item.
A playground for children.
A comfort zone for sleepers.
A hot zone for lovers.
And a political stage for peaceniks.
Why not a political stage for gays and lesbians seeking equal treatment for their relationships?
For me, the shared bed was among the first outward expressions of my relationship with my partner. We purchased our queen-sized bed before our rings, and its existence in our small apartment served as a statement of our relationship to anyone who didn’t know us well — and as a reminder to some who did.
One bed.
Two women.
The Kenmore repairman who fixed the fridge got the idea. The plumber who fixed the tub caught on. The handywoman who replaced our windows understood.
The shared bed.
Now I’m singing “The Ballad of Lisa and Connie,” “The Ballad of Michael and Jason,” “The Ballad of Barb and Lucy” and imagining a bed-in on the National Mall in October.
Conservative groups probably would be expecting public sex — the same expectation the press had for Lennon and Ono — but find same-sex couples in bed, lounging on fat fluffy pillows and a cozy comforter, talking about justice, love and peace.
Reporters would say, Say what’re you doing in bed?
Demonstrators would say, We’re only trying to get us some peace and equality.
I sometimes feel that in the pursuit of equality we have sequestered our relationships the way closeted couples clean house before friends or family arrive. Our campaigns often talk about rights, but avoid displays of love. Our campaigns often focus on the Constitution but hide our affections.
We need to push civil rights legislation and the repeal of anti-equality measures, but we also need to help lawmakers and voters get comfy with our love and passion — our sharing of a bed and exchanging of kisses, holding of hands and caressing of cheeks.
We do that with public displays until such displays get no more than a first look and an “Ah, love sweet love” from their observers.
Imagine.
@ Gerry Fisher–Again, rockin’!
@ Sarrellec–NICE distinction!
Lisa, once again…not in-your-face on the surface, but some solid truth that speaks for itself. Thank you.
Sarrellec, that was a fantastic description of the difference between valuing symbols over substance versus actualizing your beliefs through your actions. Very cool!
The people on the left piss me off when they value emotional symbolism over getting something done, and the people on the right piss me off when they value winning and waging war against their enemies without a thought about the common good.
For serious Beatle fans like me, it was eye opening to read the latest issue of Rolling Stone with the article about how the Beatles broke up. Although his art is still incredible, my opinion of John Lennon the man was taken down a few notches. I suggest that you check it out, because it gives a graphic depiction of how Lennon (and Harrison) were treating their best boyhood friend at the same time they were looking all saintly, spiritual, and enlightened in public, they were being passive-aggressive, mean spirited, wishy washy, and ridiculously insecure in their personal dealings. Very sloppy.
Yes, both Lennon and Harrison understood that the personal is political (”let’s invite the press into our bedroom!”), but it goes the other way, too. The political is actualized through personal actions. Call me crazy, but how you treat people in your real life matters as much as how good a show you put on before the press.
A well-articulated and helpful distinction, Sarrellec.
Right on kiddo!
‘Sides, there’s a big difference between a “hippie” and a “flower child”.
“Hippies”, unfortunately, began the greed movement. Remember, a “hippie” eschewed material things and the responsibility for those material things.
As long as they could use someone else’s things, that is.
Eschewing the responsibility of owning and maintaining a car–as a symbol of their anti-establishment rhetoric–they didn’t mind hitch-hiking in cars owned by others. Or crashing in someone else’s home. Or eating someone else’s food.
The “hippie” of yester-year evolved into the neo-con hypocrite that eventually destroyed this country. Self-centered, self-involved and greedy beyond measure.
*I* was a “flower child”. We had jobs. We put flowers in the barrels of Guard rifles. We held hands and sat in protest of the inequities of civil life while maintaining our responsibility to ourselves and others.
We were the ones who OWNED the cars the hippies took advantage of. We were the ones who paid the rent on the crash pad.
We volunteered and gave what we could and what we had.
We were betrayed by our older brethren, the hippie, because, unlike them, we BELIEVED.
We BELIEVED that government should serve the people that supported it, not abuse and take advantage of our bodies and our lives and limbs for the benefit of a handful of Mad Ave wanna-get-richers.
The hippies left us behind.
They BECAME the Mad Ave wanna-get-richers and, well, here we are.
You strike me as more a flower child than a hippie.
Granted, I was and am an ANGRY flower child, but hey, a rose has thorns.
A beautiful challenge. It reminds me of how the shared bed functions when my partner and I travel. That moment when checking in to the hotel, we confirm for the uniformed associate behind the desk that, yes, we’d like a room with a queen sized bed (we’ll take a king if you have it). They catch on. The housekeeper who sees two men exit the room figures it out when she turns down the shared bed. Thank you for the reminder about what kind of work the bed can accomplish.
That’s beautiful. Thank you!
John L