I’m black, I’m gay; ruling shows that equal rights are not equal

I’m black. I’m gay. And I’m just going to say it: Monday was a wash for equal rights.

On the one hand, the Supreme Court ruled that Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, which bans workplace discrimination based on “race, color, religion, sex, or national origin,” does indeed protect gay and transgender Americans.

On the other hand, the Supreme Court declined to hear — count ’em — eight separate cases that would have opened the door to challenging “qualified immunity,” the doctrine that protects police officers from civil lawsuits alleging brutality and other civil rights violations.

This was so ridiculous that even Justice Clarence Thomas, the court’s only black and most obtusely conservative member, issued an unusual dissent.

At a time when protests are still popping up daily to denounce injustice at the hands — and sometimes knees — of police, it’s hard not to compare the pace of change and acceptance for the LGBTQ community and the black community.

Being black and demanding equal rights is still very much a controversial and a political statement. But being gay or lesbian or bisexual and demanding the same? Not as much. Not anymore. Think about it.

Only eight years ago, Joe Biden, then vice president and now the presumptive Democratic nominee for president, caused a firestorm by merely saying gay people should have another type of basic equal rights.

“I am absolutely comfortable with the fact that men marrying men, women marrying women and heterosexual men and women marrying one another are entitled to the same exact rights, all the civil rights, all the civil liberties,” he told NBC’s “Meet the Press.”

And now corporations spend millions of dollars on Pride parade floats, rainbowcolored sneakers and shirts and backpacks, and ad campaigns to tout their commitment to diversity.

Though it started as a protest, ironically by transgender people of color demanding equal rights, Pride today is seen as a harmless party.

Discrimination hasn’t completely disappeared for the LGBTQ community. Far from it. Especially for transgender Americans, who just last week watched as the Trump administration rolled back protections against sex discrimination for patients under the Affordable Care Act.

But why is it that holding a Pride celebration didn’t become something akin to holding a political event until word got out about a possible partnership with Black Lives Matter? Even though the many protests in Los Angeles have been peaceful for more than a week, there’s still clearly some fear out there that things might turn ugly.

On Sunday, though, thousands gathered for an “All Black Lives Matter” march, starting in front of the TCL Chinese Theatre on Hollywood Boulevard before heading the few miles into West Hollywood. It was a beautiful act of protest and solidarity meant to build bridges, as there’s always been more than a touch of homophobia in the black community and far more than a touch of racism in the LGBTQ community.

But the very existence of the march also made abundantly clear how far we have to go.

All around, the names of the black and dead were scrawled in rainbow colors. On a restaurant’s patio glass. In chalk on the ground. Michael Brown. Tamir Rice. John Crawford III. Natasha McKenna. Walter Scott. George Floyd. But still people eating on the restaurant patio were oblivious.

Several storefronts remained covered in plywood on Sunday. Perhaps the owners of those shops and restaurants were worried thieves would steal their merchandise or vandals would shatter or spray-paint their windows?

The truth might be more complex, but the more simplistic message came through loud and clear, and it was disappointing.

It’s going to take more than a few murals on plywood insisting Black Lives Matter to rectify that.

As a friend — black, gay, from West Virginia and seemingly out since birth — once told me: “You’ll know you’re done coming out when you’re as comfortable with your gayness as your blackness.”

Those words stuck with me. Today, thinking of the protests, I’d tweak and flip them.

When America is as comfortable with blackness as gayness, then you’ll know we’re done coming out.