E-Mail This Article to a Friend WHO’S GOT THE BUTTON? Second-class label BY KRISTEN LOMBARDI

For all the pithy slogans that dominated the Massachusetts constitutional convention earlier this year, only one captured the popular imagination as fast and furiously as a trademark punch line on a hit TV show. The tongue-in-cheek comment HI! I’M A SECOND-CLASS GAY CITIZEN — displayed in rainbow-colored letters on white circular buttons — became all the rage among pro-gay-marriage forces over the four-day convention in March. And while the legislative debate over same-sex marriage has ended for now — and gay and lesbian couples are preparing for more joyous events next Monday, when they will begin applying for marriage licenses — the buttons can still be found circulating around Boston, a quiet reminder of the need to keep up the fight for civil-marriage rights for same-sex couples.

The buttons are the product of a homespun effort launched by three local residents eager to contribute to the marriage-equality campaign. Joe Teja, 42, a Hyde Park attorney, came up with the somewhat sarcastic motto while taking in the scene on the first day of the convention. Standing in the State House, amid protesters on both sides of the issue, he and his partner of seven years, Dean Lampros, made a point of chatting with gay-marriage opponents to better understand their objections. While talking with one Bible-wielding man, Teja asked why it was such a big deal that he might be able to marry his partner. Recalls Teja, "He said, ‘You know, when I’m talking to a black person or a woman, I know who I’m talking to. But I don’t know when I’m talking to a gay person, and that makes me feel uncomfortable.’"

The comment got Teja thinking. He discussed the exchange with a friend, Josh Silverman, who happens to be a graphic artist. Teja suggested that Silverman create a button declaring, in so many words, HI! I’M GAY! Silverman liked the idea. But after listening to the eloquent speeches delivered by legislators who support same-sex marriage — many of whom compared the discrimination against gay and lesbian couples to the second-class status historically inflicted on African-Americans — he wanted to add a twist. "He said, ‘Let’s say second-class citizen,’" Teja says. It seemed like a brilliant message, one that would subtly remind people that gay men and lesbians, as a group, remain less than fully equal under the law.

The buttons might never have materialized if Teja’s partner had gotten his way. When Teja first informed Lampros of what the buttons would say, he recoiled at the idea. "I was reticent," confides the 34-year-old fundraiser for Boston University School of Theology. "I thought I wouldn’t wear one because I initially didn’t like the message." Fortunately, Lampros got to thinking, too. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized how brutally true the message is.

"America loves its myths," he says. "One of them is that there are no second-class citizens. But I realized there are, and you know what? I’m one of them."

So the three friends decided on an experiment. As soon as Silverman designed the button, they ordered up a batch of 500. Then, at a pro-gay-marriage vigil on the eve of the March 11 convention, Teja distributed the fruits of their labor. They expected people to be put off at first, as Lampros had been. But the buttons turned out to be a success. Within minutes, Teja had handed out the entire bunch. For every 25 people who snatched up a button, Lampros says, only "one person politely said, ‘I don’t want one.’ The response was overwhelmingly positive."

Response was so positive, that Teja and his colleagues ordered another 1000 that night. This time, they expanded the motto to include the straight friends and loved-ones of gay men and lesbians. HI! I’M A FRIEND OF A SECOND-CLASS GAY CITIZEN became popular among straight allies during the convention, while HI! I’M LOVED BY A SECOND-CLASS GAY CITIZEN was a staple among the parents and children of gay folks. Over the course of the four-day convention, the men handed out buttons almost as fast as they made them. They even mailed a button to all 200 state legislators, along with a letter warning that "labels encourage discrimination; discrimination promotes prejudice; prejudice undermines equality."

By the time the convention ended on March 29, they had passed out as many as 2500 buttons — for free. The button production might have ceased then if Teja had not noticed the intense reactions his button evoked around town. On the subway, he took note of the silent, wry stares the button attracted. Some people commented, "Love your button." Others said its message was "interesting." Still others made clear their disdain with an indignant "That’s disgusting!" The responses made him realize how far gay-marriage advocates have to go in gaining public acceptance — not just in Massachusetts, but across the country.

"There is a long row to hoe in this fight," he says. In Massachusetts, of course, gay and lesbian couples attained first-class status on November 18, 2003, when the state’s Supreme Judicial Court ruled that the ban on civil marriage for same-sex couples was unconstitutional. But even those who get married beginning on May 17 will enjoy less protection than married heterosexual couples do, since they won’t have access to more than 1000 federal benefits. And same-sex couples from the remaining 49 states have yet to obtain civil-marriage rights.

"In the eyes of the country," Teja says, "we’re still second-class citizens."

So he and friends ordered an additional 1000 buttons, which arrived last week. While they won’t be distributing the buttons to newly married same-sex couples in front of city and town halls across the state — "We don’t want to undermine this nice season for gay men and lesbians," Teja says — they are looking to keep the message alive. Already, they intend to distribute the buttons at the annual Gay Pride parade, in June, as well as outside MBTA stations in the city and favorite haunts in the South End. Come July, during the Democratic National Convention, they intend to hand out as many buttons to out-of-state delegates as they can.

They’ve even taken their crusade nationwide, shipping the button’s design to gay-rights groups in other states on the frontlines of the gay-marriage battle, such as Oregon, California, and New York. One Oregon organization has expressed an interest in the buttons for that state’s legislative debate over a constitutional amendment banning gay marriage — a prospect that Teja finds gratifying.

"It would be great if this campaign takes off across the country," he says.

"Yeah," Lampros chimes in, "maybe even [Vice-President] Dick Cheney will wear one for his lesbian daughter."

For more information or to order a button, contact Josdinos@rcn.com.