McKinley: Doing it derby–the south is more complicated than you think

Coming-outs can be surprising. Coming-outs can be surprising.

Last week, the country was surprised when President Barack Obama came out in support of the legalization of gay marriage. Despite being a socially liberal president, his previously ambiguous support toward gay marriage made his outright declaration unexpected. The announcement was particularly surprising because of the impending election, as his new stance could lose voters — especially in swing states that have laws banning gay marriage, such as Pennsylvania.

Another state outlawing gay marriage is Kentucky. And it is in Kentucky — a historically Republican state — that Obama might surprisinglyfind others like him. South of the Mason-Dixon Line, the president is just another unexpected supporter of the marriage equality movement.

Of course, I discovered this all by accident.

Kentucky, as it turns out, is only seven hours away from Pittsburgh. All that separates us from the bluegrass state is really just a sliver of West Virginia and about 200 miles of Ohio pavement. Armed with Google Maps printouts and dreaming of handsome southern frat boys, my roommates and I jumped in my mother’s old SUV and headed southwest for the Kentucky Derby at the Churchill Downs.

Nine hours and several missed turns later, we pulled into a Waffle House parking lot just outside of Louisville. Over grits and biscuits we celebrated our successful drive and prepared for the next segment of the journey: getting into the infield for the Kentucky Derby.

As rookies to the Triple Crown and horseracing in general, we were unsure of everything — all we knew was to pack some large hats. Various YouTube clips of the infield and years of watching the race on television had established in our minds only that the scene would include flowing bourbon and a large number of people in sundresses. But not even our tickets guaranteed that we would see any horses. The only guarantee was that our first trip to the Kentucky Derby would be a day full of surprises.

The first surprise came early, at the gates. Positioned in front of the entrance to the derby grounds was a group of fundamentalist Christians protesting the gambling, drinking and general debauchery in which the rest of us were  about to happily engage. The group threw various epithets at us. I was left wondering the meaning of “whoremonger.” In a state that has consistently voted Republican in presidential elections over the last half century — and given the particularly acidic context of contemporary American politics — I wasn’t surprised by the abrasive presence of this particular group.

In the South — where first cousins can get married but gays cannot — I was not surprised when the group’s leader declared the damnation of all homosexuals. Rather, the surprise was the reaction of the crowd. In immediate response to the preacher’s derogatory comments toward gays, the crowd broke out in widespread chants for equality. Various people chanted, “Tolerance for the gays!” One man dressed in nothing but a leather jacket and denim shorts shouted from his tobacco-filled mouth a request for the preacher to “Bring yo’ sweet thang over here!”

The people in this crowd were the people paying a few hours’ wages to get into the muddy infield, not the 1 percent sitting up in Millionaire’s Row. These were the people wearing denim overalls, not seersucker suits. These were the people sneaking bourbon in flasks and at the bottom of coolers, not buying $9 mint juleps in the stands. Indeed, this crowd was a group of working-class southerners. These were the people Northerners tend to stereotype as backward, socially conservative hicks. Yet here they were, openly supporting the very progressive notion of equality regardless of sexual orientation.

With North Carolina’s most recent passage of Amendment One, the South becomes the only region in the nation where all state constitutions include amendments that ban gay marriage. Many — like North Carolina and Kentucky — include passages that also ban civil unions. In the face of open discrimination against homosexual couples, we might become discouraged about the future of our nation, or even for all humanity. But if the unexpected support from a group of southern frat boys and Kentuckians is any indication, there is reason for hope. For it is unexpected support against anticipated critics that propels society forward. While we can be discouraged by the ignorant preacher, we can be far more inspired by his progressive challengers. Sometimes, those supporters come from the Oval Office. Other times they come dressed in overalls.

Contact Rosie at romckinley@gmail.com