This is a historic vote (this is the GLB ENDA, the one we actually have the votes for, the one we've been working on for 30 years). All Republican amendments were defeated. Four Dems sided with Pat Robertson and the men at the Concerned Women for America and voted no (including Kucinich, Holt, Clark and Sanchez - ostensibly because they feel we should hold 25 million gays and lesbians hostage until America is ready to pass civil rights laws for somewhere between tens of thousands and a few hundred thousand transgender people), and three Rs voted yes (Castle, Biggert and Platts). I have written down that Kuhl (a Republican) voted yes, but need to double check that.
Of course, now the real work begins of getting the bill passed by the full House of Representatives. Be assured that the wingnuts will be working over time to kill it. The deletion of gender identity from the bill will greatly undercut the Christianists' rhetoric since they will not be able to blatter about men wearing dresses if they are truthful - I know, that's a huge if. Here's an example from Concerned [Bitches] Women for America:
Sean was a burly truck driver. Growing up, he always felt something was wrong. He preferred Barbie to G.I. Joe and didn’t like football or the other things boys were supposed to like. Rather, he got twitterpated by the way pantyhose felt against his skin and eventually made the self-determination that he was, in fact, a woman trapped in a man’s body. There were others who felt the same way, and a movement was formed. They called themselves “transgender.” They made up fancy, official sounding terms like “gender identity” and “gender reassignment surgery” and demanded they be granted special rights and government-mandated benefits.
Get the picture?
ENDA would force all Americans who prefer to live within the realm of reality to pretend, by force of law, that a man is a woman — that an apple is an orange, simply because that apple thinks it’s an orange (awkward, fruity pun not intended). It’s “The Emperor’s New Clothes” meets George Orwell, and even if you’re the Mary Lou Retton of mental gymnastics, you land flat on your keister on this one.