Sorry Virginia, There is no Sanity Clause

But there used to be. Seriously, what the absolute fuck is going on in that godforsaken state? Granted, the standard of sanity was already set fairly low, what with its reputation for gun fanatics, school shootings, removal of protections for LGBT folks and anti-choice legislation. Toss in a healthy dose of climate-change deniers and it’s clear that America’s tenth state is populated largely by mouth breathers and inbred families with plenty of ‘Uncle Daddies’ and ‘Cousin Mommies.’

And now there’s this latest push to legalize refusal of hospital care, education, emergency services or emergency pedicures to poofters and carpet munchers that is so extreme that it could almost be satire.

But it isn’t.

Virginia Governor Bob Mcdonnell’s recent removal of state protection towards LGBT citizens rescinds an amendment made by previous Governor Tim Kaine in crafting in the state’s anti-discrimination laws. Bye bye sanity clause, hello “No Gays Allowed” signs.

It’s hard to imagine any sane legislators looking at the international uproar over Indiana’s recent anti-gay legal push and thinking “Yeah, let’s get us some of that there! Those corporate boycotts and expressions of rage against legislated bigotry are sure to make our lives better!”

Idiots.

The scary thing is that Virginia’s further descent into born-again nutjob territory has managed to make Indiana’s efforts to ‘protect’ Christian businesses from gay customers look positively quaint in comparison.

And so we cross yet another safe travel destination off our list.

Now, I’ll admit, Virginia didn’t exactly rank high up on our list of desirable vacation spots. It’s humid, dull and populated by people who think it conceivable that there were dinosaurs present at the nativity (what with the earth only being 6000 years old). But then again, Professor D’s mom and her relatives are all from this inbred mecca, and there have been several visits over the years for family events, funerals etc.

No more. Can’t chance it with a kid in tow. I shudder to imagine the potential disaster of two gay dads walking hand-in-hand with their adopted son through a mall. Or through immigration. Or anywhere, really.

Harder to stomach are more desirable destinations like Russia, Venezuela, Peru, Egypt or any non-British Caribbean vacation hotspot. A week of Jamaican sun just isn’t worth the chance at 10 years hard labour, nor does a fortnight in Barbados outweigh the high potential of lifelong imprisonment. 

No thanks.

There are still some safe places, of course. Apparently Cuba is pretty cool with LGBT folks, while Mexico balances out the homophobia of Chiapas with relative safe places like Riviera Maya and Puerto Vallarta.

And of course there’s always Amsterdam, where tulips and dykes of all sorts are celebrated.

But what about the rest of the world? I can’t help but think it’s going to be a little tricky helping Pre-Schooler N with geography homework, explaining that we can’t go to so many places simply because we’re a Queer family. He’s already fascinated with maps and globes, asking about different countries and regions. It’s only a matter of time before he starts asking why we can’t go to so many of the places his grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins can (and do visit).

Which opens up a whole new ball of tangled personal politics: how to explain to my son that the support we experience from our friends and families occasionally does not extend to those freezing winter months when one just simply MUST escape the snow for a little holiday. Of course it’s a shame that the homos aren’t allowed here too, but who could argue with this fifty cent margarita!?

I guess I can’t. Nor do I wish to. At some point my kid’s going to learn that even in the current best-case scenarios, we are still very much second-class citizens. And he, like so many LGBT, Aboriginal, Jewish or African folk before him, will still have to occasionally watch his friends and family hand money over to people and institutions who want us to cease to exist. For a cheap margarita. Or a steal-of-a-deal last minute week in the sun. Or just because they don’t actually give a shit, when it comes right down to it.

So fuck you Virginia. You killed the sanity clause, you inbred hillbilly Grinch. 

Oh, and your state flag is too tacky for words. Nyah.