The result has been vehement protests against some of the supporters of the proposition, as shown in this LA Times article, and quoted below. (I applaud the writer, an opponent of Prop 8, for denouncing the violence against Prop 8 supporters!)
While homosexual activists like to claim any position against promotion of a homosexual lifestyle is motivated by hate, their response demonstrates a real deep seated negative emotion against anyone who disagrees with them.
I have witnessed this many times in person, and can say that I have rarely seen emotions that rival the hatred of homosexuals towards those who claim their lifestyle is immoral. In fact, the other cases that rival their hatred were also by people promoting a practice that others considered immoral.
Margie Christoffersen didn't make it very far into our conversation before she cracked. Chest heaving, tears streaming, she reached for her husband Wayne's hand and then mine, squeezing as if she'd never let go.
"I've almost had a nervous breakdown. It's been the worst thing that's ever happened to me," she sobbed as curious patrons at a Farmers Market coffee shop looked on, wondering what calamity had visited this poor woman who's an honest 6 feet tall, with hair as blond as the sun.
Well, Christoffersen was a manager at El Coyote, the Beverly Boulevard landmark restaurant that's always had throngs of customers waiting to get inside. Many of them were gay, and Christoffersen, a devout Mormon, donated $100 in support of Proposition 8, the successful November ballot initiative that banned gay marriage.
She never advertised her politics or religion in the restaurant, but last month her donation showed up on lists of "for" and "against" donors. And El Coyote became a target.
A boycott was organized on the Internet, with activists trashing El Coyote on restaurant review sites. Then came throngs of protesters, some of them shouting "shame on you" at customers. The police arrived in riot gear one night to quell the angry mob.
The mob left, but so did the customers.
Sections of the restaurant have been closed, a manager told me Friday during a very quiet lunch hour. Some of the 89 employees, many of them gay, have had their hours cut, and layoffs are looming. And Christoffersen, who has taken a voluntary leave of absence, is wondering whether she'll ever again be able to work at the restaurant, which opened in 1931 (at 1st and La Brea) and is owned by her 92-year-old mother.
"It's been so hard," she said, breaking down again.
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