"I Am Not A Martyr"

I've always griped that you don't fall down in P-town, you fall up. I guess that goes for queer organizations, too.

Just look at Roey Thorpe's promotion from executive director at Basic Rights Oregon to one of the top players at Evan Wolfson's Freedom to Marry, the nation's most powerful same-sex marriage advocacy group.

Wolfson calls these advancements "moving forward." Thorpe told me over coffee, at the same Starbucks where I first interviewed her years ago, it's about "defining for yourself what success looks like."

What she sees as success, I see as abandonment.

Thorpe has been a tireless champ for civil rights, specifically for those who are gay, lesbian, bi and transgender. For the past couple of years, she's been getting her ass kicked. It's no wonder she's moving on.

If you've read this column, you know that I'm a huge supporter of Thorpe. I see her not only as a leader but as someone who has influence over my life (my partner, Juan, and I have been involved in a lengthy legal battle to try to overturn the despicable results of Measure 36, which banned gay marriage in Oregon). But right now, I'm freaked out that she's leaving us.

The record shows that in Oregon three out of five voters are quite comfortable with gays being considered second-class citizens (the results of Measure 36) and that in Multnomah County seven in 10 voters rejected Diane Linn, the incumbent county chair whom, Thorpe's detractors say, BRO elevated to the poster queen for gay marriage.

"We definitely have had our losses," says Thorpe. "Measure 36, the Multnomah County marriages that were annulled, the near miss in the Legislature [the civil-union bill's defeat], but I never expected to win every battle. I was always in it for the long haul."

So what did Thorpe accomplish?

She cites the nondiscrimination laws that have passed in several Oregon cities. "But the intangible," she says, "is, as a community, we've come to expect more; we've raised the bar on what we'd settle for."

It is nice to raise standards. But what about that "long haul"? Don't you have to stick around to make sure they're met?

"I'm leaving at some midpoint, not the end," says Thorpe, whose new job takes her back, at least one week a month, to her native New York state. "It's taken all this time—and the marriages in the county—to excite people enough to be willing to get out of their comfort zone and get involved. I believe I've succeeded. If I didn't believe that, I would not leave now."

But Thorpe admits it's a "bittersweet" feeling to leave an organization she feels so close to—due in large part to her teambuilding. "I'm like the lead singer of an amazing band," she says. "If I went solo, I'd fail."

To those—especially those in the queer community—who think Thorpe has failed to bring any real, tangible and positive change for Portland gays during her tenure, Thorpe says, "We are our own worst enemies. I focus on the positive. I am not a martyr."

Neither am I. That is why I'd wish our most powerful allies in this long statewide fight could stick around to see how it all works out. At least I wouldn't feel so freaked out.

WWeek 2015