California State Sen. Mark Leno, a leading gay politician from San Francisco and one of Kors' closest political allies, acknowledges, "He could potentially interact more with other organizations. But you're trying to run a multimillion-dollar organization and keep it afloat. He's only human."
In 2008, Kors' approach backfired when the No on 8 campaign spent enormous sums yet failed to tap grassroots activists and organizers to supply troops for an effective field operation to reach uneasy voters, particularly blacks and Latinos.
PHOTO BY TED SOQUI
Longtime gay rights activist Ivy Bottini
PHOTO BY TED SOQUI
Milk screenwriter Dustin Lance Black
Related Content
More About
Critics suggest Equality California does only what's best for Gay Inc. "Equality California works in a reactionary way," says gay rights advocate Robin McGehee, a gay leader who works on difficult turf in conservative Fresno. "So if someone is doing something good, Equality California finds a way to get connected to it and raises money from it. But the engagement is not authentic."
Kors shakes off his critics, telling the Weekly, "Different people have different agendas that aren't just about advancing equality. And I don't think you can be effective if you're not going to rankle some people along the way."
One harsher assessment, from Scott Schmidt, a gay rights activist and president of the Log Cabin Republicans of Los Angeles, is: "He's a lightning rod. Some people don't want anything to do with him."
Now, with Kors' departure weeks away, "Equality California will have to do some real careful thinking," suggests gay rights veteran and Harvey Milk confidant Cleve Jones, who says he has "no ax to grind" with the group.
Equality California's legislative agenda in the state has mostly been accomplished, and 2010 will go down as a watershed year for gays nationally, with Congress repealing the U.S. military's "don't ask, don't tell" policy on Dec. 18. "Everything has changed in the past two years," Jones says.
McGehee sees a chance for a dramatic change in the state's gay rights movement, led by a rebranded, cash-rich, post-Kors Equality California.
"It would serve California well for someone in Equality California to see things differently and do things differently and get the people activated," she says. "California could be a beacon for the rest of the country, and show how coalition building in a gay rights movement can really work."
On an overcast day in San Francisco, Cleve Jones is standing in the middle of the Castro District, gay rainbow flags everywhere. He's enmeshed in a highly publicized local battle with the Human Rights Campaign, a national gay rights lobbying group based in Washington, D.C.
To the deep disapproval of Jones and many other activists, HRC — a well-staffed, well-funded group often criticized for being ineffective over the years — wants to open an "action center" in the space where Jones' mentor and close friend, Harvey Milk, once operated his camera store.
The Castro District retail space holds a place in gay political history, having served, in Milk's time, as a kind of command center for gay grassroots activists.
Milk, the first openly gay man elected to public office in the United States, was assassinated by another elected San Francisco supervisor in 1978, and he's viewed as a gay martyr and hero in the United States. After the release of the 2008 film Milk, featuring the Oscar-winning performance of Sean Penn, just weeks after voters approved anti–gay marriage Proposition 8, Milk also became an internationally known gay icon.
HRC's plan to move into the historic storefront is seen by many as an attempt to cash in on Milk's legacy. Up the street, the HRC already has an action center that's more like a gift shop for gay tourists who flock to the Castro. Staffers sell T-shirts and Harvey Milk mugs and play Milk on several TV monitors.
HRC's plan irks Jones no end. The Human Rights Campaign, similar to Equality California, represents a type of corporatization of the gay rights movement that Milk, in Jones' opinion, would have abhorred: "It's the antithesis of what Harvey stood for," he says.
The controversy over Milk's old storefront is a classic example of the Gay Inc. problem, whose membership is identified by gay bloggers and activists as comprising Equality California, the Human Rights Campaign, the Gay Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation, the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force and other major groups.
The organizations raise millions of dollars, work as insider lobbyists seeking alliances and favors from mostly Democratic politicians, host swanky fundraisers for wealthy contributors, and try not to do anything that will antagonize the elected Democrats and major donors upon whom they rely.
"Gay Inc. are organizations with folks who are more concerned about their jobs than advancing gay liberation," says San Francisco blogger and gay rights activist Michael Petrelis, one of the most tenacious critics of Gay Inc. groups.
Gay Inc.'s brand of activism is polite and, critics say, elitist — the opposite of Harvey Milk's people-power politics — and it aims to maintain and increase the groups' power and influence to keep the money coming in.
"They need everyone to be loyal to them and to write checks to them," says gay rights veteran Bottini, who for decades worked on the front lines of the movement and sits on the West Hollywood Lesbian and Gay Advisory Board. "It's all about the money."