CLIPBOARD IN HAND, Ernesto Dominguez, 21, rings the doorbell
of a modest home in a Portland suburb. A 77-year-old woman in
sweatpants appears and Dominguez politely asks, “Do you think committed
same-sex couples should get the full rights of marriage?” The woman
launches into a supportive rant. “This is supposed to be a free country
and it’s getting to where [the government] dictates everything!” she
says. “I say let ’em do whatever they want!”
During the past eight weeks, same-sex marriage advocates like
Dominguez have knocked on 17,000 doors around the state. Unlike most
political campaigns, the volunteers and handful of paid workers turned
out by Basic Rights Oregon (BRO) and youth voting group the Oregon Bus
Project are not aiming to get money or convince voters to support a
specific ballot measure. Instead, as their Marriage Matters campaign
aims to put same-sex marriage on the ballot as soon as 2012, the groups
are trying to spark conversation with a random sample of voters. The
first weeks of a three-year campaign in Oregon are gauging opinion on
same-sex marriage while trying to win hearts and minds.
In 2004, 57 percent of Oregonians voted in favor of Measure 36, a
constitutional amendment defining marriage as between a man and a
woman. BRO challenged the ban in court, but unlike in Iowa, the state
courts came down against the LGBT cause. To overturn the constitutional
amendment and legalize same-sex marriage, BRO has to get its own
statewide measure on the ballot.
That, says BRO Organizing Director Thomas Wheatley, means a massive
campaign with years of groundwork. While BRO spent $56,000 lobbying
state legislators in the first three months of this year, now they’re
focusing on regular Oregonians.
“We don’t want to get the issue on the ballot until we’re sure we
have statewide support,” says Wheatley. “Our goal is to move the needle
of support. Once the ballot campaign starts and there’s people on TV
shouting about it, the real conversations get lost.”
Oregonians’ opinions still seem evenly split on same-sex marriage.
Of the 14 people Dominguez talked with during his suburban
door-knocking last week, five were supporters of gay marriage, three
were undecided, three were against and three people refused to discuss
the issue.
In response to hard-line answers from voters at the door—such
as, “God says no,” an actual response cited in a recent
training—the Marriage Matters organizers coach canvassers to be
open-minded and polite.
“You can say, ‘It sounds like your faith is very important to you,'”
a trainer named Aubrey told a circle of nine volunteers before they hit
doors in North Portland on the night of Wednesday, August 14. “Telling
someone they’re wrong or calling them a bigot just won’t work.”
These are similar tactics to those of California’s major same-sex
marriage advocacy group, Equality California. In the past 100 days,
Equality California volunteers have knocked on 500,000 doors, says
executive director Geoff Kors. Like BRO canvassers, Equality California
volunteers are telling sympathetic stories of committed same-sex
couples and trying to start actual conversations.
“People don’t view this as a political issue, they view it as a
cultural issue,” says Kors. “It takes more than one conversation.”
While BRO is aiming to get same-sex marriage on Oregon’s ballot as
soon as 2012, Equality California names that year as a definite goal.
Not only do more young voters turn out for presidential elections but,
says Kors, that gives LGBT advocacy groups years to raise the millions
of dollars they will need to run a successful campaign.
Snacking on flavored water and pork rinds, Dominguez, who is queer,
finishes his door-knocking at sunset. The hostility of some
voters—three slammed the door in his face without answering the
question—does not seem to have shaken him at all.
“I want us to get there when I know we can win. And because I want
us to get there faster, I’m doing my part,” he says. “I want my kids to
be able to grow up saying, ‘My parents are married.'”