Because my
father died suddenly when I was young, and was the epitome of Catholic, I
always envisioned that I would have a conversation with him, later in life, and
awkwardly and uncomfortably tell him that I was gay. And I imagined him being
extraordinary with the news.
When I had the
very meaningful opportunity to speak with Justice Martin
Jenkins — a justice of the California Court of Appeals for the
First District — before his appointment today by California Governor Gavin
Newsom as the first LGBTQ+ person on the California Supreme Court, he brought
that imaginary conversation to life for me, and so much more.
Justice
Jenkins, or Marty as many know him, is a very private person. He has never
publicly discussed his sexuality until now. Before our conversation, there
were questions I planned to ask him, not only about his judicial
career — as a football fan, I was curious about his brief stint
playing in the NFL with the Seattle Seahawks — however, I’m not a legal
scholar, so my questions would have fallen flat.
We did have a
brief chat about football. I told Jenkins that he was the 21st-century Alan
Page, a Hall of Fame football player with the Minnesota Vikings in the
1970s, who also embarked on a legal career and became a justice on the
Minnesota Supreme Court after he retired from the NFL. "I'm no Alan
Page," Jenkins said with a quiet laugh that reflected his innate modesty.
Thankfully, we
never got to delve into legal jargon or more football talk, because there’s
immensely more to Justice Jenkins than his rulings and verdicts.
Jenkins is a
son of California, and to two very special parents. Jenkins's mom and dad were
his role models, and growing up in the Bay Area, he helped his father work his
second job cleaning office buildings and churches. Jenkins went on to have a
successful legal career, as a civil rights attorney, a federal judge, and most
recently helping Governor Newsom build a judiciary that reflects the diversity
of California. To that end, Jenkins will also be only the third
African-American man to serve on the state's highest court.
I went for the
obvious question first, asking how it felt to be the first LGBTQ+ person on
California’s Supreme Court? “It’s an interesting notion,” pondered Jenkins from
his home in Oakland. “There were others before me who were qualified and who
weren’t out or weren’t selected. So being the first, and being an
African-American man too, is a big responsibility. I think I know how being in
the minority feels, and so my plan is to do the job as well as I can.
Hopefully, I’ll have the ability to shine a light on the possibilities for
people who look like me or have the same orientation as I do. I think it’s also
important to make sure you conduct yourself with honor and integrity with the
way you do your work.”
Lighhearedly,
I told Jenkins that after his appointment, he will be forever known as a gay
role model. “I don’t know about that,” he laughed with an air of humbleness.
“Hard to think about, but I will say perceptions are important, and I think I
have conducted myself well, but I wouldn’t say I’m a role model. My role models
were my parents. They were such amazing people, and I was one of the lucky ones
who had people in their own households who inspire you and help you walk across
the bridges that we cross in life.”
One of those
bridges, for Jenkins, was his sexuality. For most of his life, he
compartmentalized it, and pushed it down firmly in an attempt to extinguish
his true self. I wondered if he ever had the opportunity to tell his
role models — his parents — that he was gay? “I never told my mom. We were
very close, but I did tell my father before he died, and I made it a difficult
conversation.”
Jenkins
explained that after his mom died, he and his dad spent a lot of time together
in the house his family lived in for over 50 years. Right before his father
passed, Jenkins went to see him. “I went on a Sunday, like I always did, and
took him to dinner. All the while, I told myself, like I had for a number of
years, that it would be hard for him to hear the truth, that he didn’t deserve
to the carry this burden in the later stages of his life, that he would worry,
all these things I attributed to him as to why I wouldn’t tell him, and he
wouldn’t accept me.”
After dinner,
Jenkins and his father went for a walk, and returned to the family home. “I was
quite pensive, and my dad said to me, ‘Why are you so distracted?’ ‘What’s
wrong with you?’ And I said I have something to tell you,” Jenkins recalled
with his voice starting to break. “I want you to know who I am, and that I am
gay. And my dad looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language, so I said
maybe your generation might refer to it as homosexual?”
“My dad got up
from the couch across from where I was sitting, walked over to me, put his
hands on each of the arms on the chair I was sitting in, and said, ‘How long
have you known this?’ I told him that I had these feelings since high school,
and he said, ‘I wish you had told me then. It couldn’t have been easy for you.
I love you. You’re my son. There’s nothing you could do or be that would make
me love you less.’”
We were both
in tears. Jenkins had an opportunity some of us never had — that I never had.
And Jenkins knew he was lucky to have that conversation with his dad. It was
only one of the heartbreaking encounters he would have on his way to crossing
the bridge of coming out later in life.
“I
compartmentalized in college, when I went to the NFL, through law school,
through all of it, and in my mind, I wasn’t gay for a long time,” he said with
some regret. “I just kept pressing it down, pressing it down until in some
shape or form it just became nonexistent. Once in while it would rear its head,
but it never went away. How could it?”
Did his
position as a judge keep him from coming out? “That’s an interesting question.
I grew up with a family that for generations believed what happens in the house
stays in the house. And so, by nature I’m very private, so it’s interesting
that I sought out the bench because in one way it was very public, but the
ethics and the rules imply that you withdraw to keep your impartiality. And
particularly on the federal bench. I think becoming a judge was comforting to
me. Here I am with this vital job as a federal judge, but I still didn’t feel
comfortable, or have the confidence, to come out. It just illustrates how
the secret and the compartmentalization ran so deep for so long.”
I wanted to
know if he remembered a time, a place or a person, that made him think
constantly compartmentalizing and hiding was too much of a burden? “Yes, there
was a time that another door opened for me. One of my best friends was a judge
in Oakland, handsome, smart, a world-class athlete, a true renaissance man. He
was the guy every guy wanted to be, and we became close after my mom died in
1992, and he helped me through that rough time.”
Jenkins
explained that his close friend developed stomach cancer, and temporarily
beat it, but it came back with a vengeance, and he died. “I would go see
him quite often before he passed. Weeks before he died, he and his partner had
a birthday party for me and gave me a beautiful painting. He was so sick, but
always thinking about me. Right before he died, I went back to read poetry to
him at his bedside, since he was failing fast. I was in the room with him, and
with a raspy voice he said to me, ‘If there was one wish I would have for you
it would be that you would begin to live your life.’ And I couldn’t stop
crying. Nor could I not heed to his wishes. If he loved me that much, I had to
begin to do so, to live my life.”
Jenkins
let go, and began to be more open and finally at 66, he is not only
becoming a state Supreme Court Justice, but is also in a loving relationship.
“He’s a wonderful man,” Jenkins gushed, referring to his partner. “And when I
was finally able to be authentic about who I was, he showed up like a miracle.
I fell in love for the first time late in life. I denied myself for so long.
And now I’m happy.”
Jenkins is
Catholic, like — or maybe unlike — another Supreme Court appointee that’s been
in the news lately. I told him that I had written about my close friend,
the late Father Angelo, who told me, after I told him I was
gay, that God loved me just the way I was. I asked Jenkins as a Catholic gay
man if he thought God loved him just the way he is?
“I do now.
Reconciliation of faith may be one of the most challenging aspects of my job
and personally with my sexuality. But I work with that too. I’ve been a
practicing Catholic all my life, and I truly believe in the God of love and
that God loves me as I am now.”
Before we hung
up, I pondered with Jenkins about what his legacy might be? He thought
for a minute, and then said that he wants to be known as the kind of
person who endeavors to treat others with respect and to help to others in any
way he can.
I thought that
was appropriate, because inwardly, at 66 and this late in his life, Jenkins is
finally treating himself with the respect that he deserves, and outwardly, with
his imminent appointment as a California Supreme Court Justice, he finally is
in a position where he’ll no doubt be helping millions of others. How proud his
parents must be.
John Casey
is The Advocate's Editor-at-Large.
SOURCE: ADVOCATE DOT COM
Oh... bring me more good news. I like this! About time!
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