What a difference three years makes, or does it?
As a new Charlotte Observer editorial points out, the NBA All-Star Game returns to North Carolina’s largest city this weekend, roughly three years after the state legislature’s ultra-offensive HB2 derailed league leaders’ plans to hold their annual festivities in Charlotte.
But has North Carolina, and more importantly, the N.C. General Assembly changed? A timely question, given new legislation filed by Republican lawmakers that scoffs at the U.S. Supreme Court’s milestone 2015 decision legalizing same-sex marriage.
North Carolina’s new bill is pungent, to be sure, like finding unwashed gym clothes in your bag.
But it seems likely that GOP legislators aim to put marriage equality back on an increasingly calcified, conservative Supreme Court’s docket. Social conservatives lost the public opinion battle long ago, but they may prevail on a post-Kavanaugh, post-Gorsuch SCOTUS.
The editorial rightly examines HB2’s odious replacement too, which banned local non-discrimination ordinances.
The NBA and its commissioner, Adam Silver, may look out on a drastically changed North Carolina, but close observers of the legislature know better.
Read The Charlotte Observer‘s editorial below:
Three years ago, the NBA announced it was moving its 2017 All-Star Weekend out of Charlottebecause of HB2, a North Carolina law that allowed for discrimination against the LGBTQ community, including transgender individuals. The NBA’s decision prompted a flurry of action; the NCAA and ACC soon canceled events in North Carolina, as did entertainers and convention gatherings. Charlotte and the state likely lost hundreds of millions in business and tax revenue.
Now HB2 is gone, sort of. Convention business has returned, as have NCAA events. On Friday, Charlotte and North Carolina will come full circle with the NBA bringing back the All-Star Weekend it so startlingly yanked.
But have things really changed?
On the surface, no. HB2 was rescinded, but its replacement forbids cities from adopting non-discrimination ordinances as Charlotte did before HB2. In fact, HB142 does not do one thing to protect the LGBTQ community from discrimination. It was a compromise in name only — a way to get the offensive HB2 off the books and let organizations like the NBA justify doing business in North Carolina again.
Still, different types of change have come. First, N.C. Republicans have largely shown a reluctance to take on the kind of divisive legislation they’d embraced with HB2 and in years before. (Other states’ lawmakers, such as those in Kansas this week, haven’t shown such restraint.) Is North Carolina’s legislative reticence a response to the NBA, NCAA and so many others crossing the state off their list three years ago? Does it have something to do with whispers that Amazon and Apple cast a wary eye at the embarrassing national headlines N.C. Republicans generated? Perhaps, but whatever the reason, those kinds of headlines are now far less frequent. That’s good.
Time also has brought another kind of change, the kind that comes regardless of whether lawmakers give permission. In the years since the transgender bathroom debate first roiled North Carolina and the country, we’ve seen extraordinary progress on transgender awareness in this country. Discriminating against any member of the LGBTQ community is now widely seen as discriminating against all.
This is what history looks like sometimes — not only the big moments and legislation that we mark, but the smaller moments of change that often pave the way. Friday, coincidentally, not only brings All Star festivities to Charlotte, but also an anniversary of sorts: 10 years ago, Presbyterian church leaders representing the Charlotte area officially ratified a proposal allowing gays and lesbians to become pastors and elders. It was a big deal then, but now it doesn’t seem that way. Other churches have followed suit. The country has moved forward. Progress has come.
This also is true: When progress does arrive, it’s usually led not by legislation, but by people and organizations standing up and demanding change. That’s what the NBA did three years ago. It was a decision that was both courageous and jarring. It mattered. Welcome back.