This past week has been such an emotional rollercoaster. The moment that Obama was announced as our President-Elect was nearly indescribable. We shouted and laughed and then I spent the next two days spontaneously weeping on and off. I listened to a  radio show where people from the UK, Armenia, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Mexico, Canada, Honduras, and Kenya all called in to congratulate us, to share our joy with us. When I think of how symbolic Obama’s presidency will be not only for us, but the whole world–well, it still makes me tear up.

On the other hand, California’s Proposition 8–which proposed to eliminate same-sex marriage rights from the Californian Constitution–seems to have passed, at least until the absentee ballots are counted in December. I really can’t describe the utter devastation that I, and so many other LGBTQ people, feel right now. Aside from the confusion of what will happen to previously existing same-sex marriages, and how equal rights organizations will challenge it within our courts, the complexity of emotions is rather draining. I feel so proud of our country, and so ashamed of my state. We overwhelmingly voted to increase the life satisfaction of chickens, but were split even when it came to basic human rights. And when you consider that Proposition 4–which would have required parental notification of the planned abortions of minors–was voted down, a decidedly liberal action, the situation just becomes bizarre and paradoxical.

I’m still trying to move past the other, more individualistic impacts this election had on my life. In the last month, I’ve had to delete several blogs from my RSS feed after they participated in excessive liberal-bashing. I’ve also had to  de-friend many people on MySpace and Facebook, after they expressed an ignorance and vitriol that I simply don’t want in my life. Make no mistake, I can respect Republican points-of-view on many subjects; however, I refuse to tolerate people who fall under the zealotry of the religious right, or express outright hate and ignorance. I simply don’t want to know people who post pictures of Obama with demon horns, or who call him the antichrist and a terrorist. I don’t want to be friends with people who claim to represent “true” democracy, while refusing to acknowledge that democracy means everyone has an opinion and should receive a chance at power–not just those who agree with you.

In many ways, I feel fundamentally different. Having never before experienced the sort of seething hatred that I’ve now had directed at me, I’m still struggling with my own feelings of anger and resentment. I’m still biting back the impulse to scream at people, to react to their discrimination and hatred with my own nastiness and insults. But I’m trying really, really hard to channel that anger into something productive. I need to protest, to volunteer, to surround myself with people who feel as betrayed by their neighbors as I do.

I’ve seen many people write that they were going to stay above the fray of politics in their online spaces. I’m jealous of them. I wish I had the option to turn my head and ignore the people I disagree with. It would be so much easier to close my eyes and treat everyone the same regardless of what political places they were coming from. But I can’t. My identity is inherently political, and can’t just be left at the door. When people are discussing my fundamental rights, and trying to determine my future as an equal citizen, they are evaluating my worth as a human being. Deciding that my opinions and feelings are less worthy of consideration, whether it’s because of my sexual orientation or religion or political persuasion, is a decision I am not afforded the luxury of ignoring.

I can tell you one thing: Obama’s election is only the start, and it will take action on everyone’s part to make sure that changes really do happen. We saw that grassroots organizing can have an effect larger and more immediate than any of us might have previously imagined. No matter what happens in my life during the next four years, I can assure you that I intend to be a part of the activism that Obama has motivated many of us to do. Whether it’s the repeal of Prop 8, or more nationally-based issues, if we fight for them, the changes will come. And it’s time they did.

As many people are probably aware, Proposition 8 is going to be one of the many things we Californians will be voting on this Tuesday. Proposition 8 would amend our state’s Constitution to eliminate the right for same-sex couples to get married. As the election has drawn nearer, more and more yards, cars, and protestors have been adorned with signs that announce whether or not they support the proposition.

I don’t think any white or straight person could possibly conceive of what it feels like to see so many spaces loudly marked as being against who you are. To be constantly confronted by these “Yes on 8″ signs that proudly say, “No, you are not equal, you do not deserve rights, and you are a lesser human being than I am.” Neighbors, groups of protesters at my school, even friends on Facebook–I’ve seen them all jump at the chance to tell the world that they are against me and my queer brothers and sisters. I feel choked by all of the hate that these people so enthusiastically spew. They are so protected by their privilege they could not begin to imagine what it’s like to feel slowly crushed by other people’s hate for you.

The worst part is knowing that there is nothing you can say to change their minds. That most of those people would never be willing enough to listen, and will never see the ugliness they are bringing to the world. It destroys me to think that those people truly believe they are making the world a more beautiful place by oppressing love. Listening to talk radio, I heard someone claim that the legalization of gay marriage would be followed by people marrying animals and children. To have a person’s love for another person equated to beastiality and pedophilia–it makes me sick, and angry, and sad.

But if there’s one good thing that comes out of this, it’s being able to see all of our straight allies that are standing so bravely beside us in this fight for justice. I have so many acquaintances that I appreciate and respect more now for their understanding and outspokenness. Straights, hug the queers in your life. And queers, hug the supportive straights in your life, and be sure to thank them.