The New York Times - November 10, 2009
Nicholas Confessore and Jeremy W. Peters

But ask him about the gay people in his own life, and Mr. Diaz's voice grows quiet. His smile vanishes.

Two of his brothers are gay, he murmurs, one of them recently deceased. So is a granddaughter. There is an old friend who works for him in the Senate. And a former campaign aide.

"I love them. I love them," says Mr. Diaz, who grew up one of 17 children in Puerto Rico. "But I don't believe in what they are doing. They are my brothers. They are my family."

His voice rises again. "So how could I be a homophobe?"

For those fighting to expand gay rights, Mr. Diaz, a Pentecostal minister, represents the most outspoken and unpredictable of foes. He was forced to resign from the city's Civilian Complaint Review Board years ago for suggesting that the Gay Games would encourage homosexuality and spread H.I.V. In 2003, he sued the city to shut down a high school for gay and transgender students.

As advocates push for a vote on same-sex marriage in the State Senate on Tuesday, Mr. Diaz is again speaking out, arguing that last week's election results show that the tide has turned against allowing gay people to wed.

And, given the Democrats' fragile majority -- the party has 32 senators to the Republicans' 30 -- Mr. Diaz's stubbornness often yields results.

"The people of the nation don't want gay marriage," Mr. Diaz said in an interview Monday. "They didn't want it in California; they didn't want it in Maine. And the people of upstate New York, after what happened to the candidate in the 23rd Congressional District, they sent a message they don't want gay marriage. Forget about it. People don't want it."

Mr. Diaz argued that the bill legalizing same-sex marriage should not be allowed to come to the floor, saying the Legislature has more important issues to attend to.

And some of his colleagues on Monday, while avoiding his provocative language, appeared to be moving to that position, worried that the political climate is too tense and the state's fiscal crisis too urgent for the issue to be taken up now. On Monday evening, it was not clear whether the Senate would consider the measure.

The fight over same-sex marriage has thrust Mr. Diaz, 66, back into a familiar role -- dissenting from and exasperating Democratic Senate leaders and some of his colleagues.

Earlier this year, he and three other Democrats initially refused to back Malcolm A. Smith, the Senate's top Democrat, for majority leader, throwing the Democratic caucus into chaos until Mr. Smith offered them perks and committee chairmanships.

Mr. Diaz is also the Senate's most outspoken opponent of abortion, and he once likened the harvesting of stem cells for research to Hitler using "the ashes of the Jews to make bars of soap."

"He always comes into conference or onto the floor with his mind made up, ready to argue," said Senator Eric Schneiderman, a Democrat who represents Manhattan and the Bronx. "And he loves to argue."

But to Mr. Diaz and his friends, the senator's steadfast opposition to same-sex marriage seems at times incongruous.

Christopher R. Lynn, Mr. Diaz's chief counsel, who is gay and lives with his partner in Queens, said that he has undergone three back operations, and that every time he goes into the hospital, Mr. Diaz has been there.

"He is a true believer in Christian values, in treating people the way you want to be treated," Mr. Lynn said.

Mr. Diaz describes Mr. Lynn as "my brother." They often double-date with their respective better halves. Mr. Lynn has not been able to move Mr. Diaz on the issue of marriage.

"He said to me, 'For me to accept this, I have to turn my whole value system upside down,' " Mr. Lynn said.

Mr. Diaz, whose South Bronx district is the second-poorest in New York, also raises his voice loudly on behalf of the poor, leaving some liberals in the Capitol reluctant to criticize him for his social views because he has been a reliable ally on economic issues.

"I see people looking at me, like, 'Look at this guy,' "Mr. Diaz said, rolling his eyes. "And in the end, I get what want."

In many ways, Mr. Diaz seems conflicted. He relishes the role of the lonely dissident, sometimes practically taunting Democratic leaders to throw him out of the party. Still, the senator resents those who brand him a bigot for his views, and seems to plead for understanding.

"My religion doesn't allow me to dance," he said. "But that does not mean I don't go to the party. My religion doesn't allow me to drink. But that doesn't mean I can't hang around with my friends. My religion is against gay marriage. It means, I don't agree with what you do. But let's go out. Let's go to the movies. Let's be friends."

Mr. Diaz grew up in Puerto Rico. His father, a carpenter, had five children with his mother; Mr. Diaz also had 11 half-brothers and sisters. He joined the Army out of high school, in 1960, and served in Fort Jackson, S.C.

He moved to New York in 1965 and fell into drugs. Arrested for possession of heroin and marijuana, he got probation. Not long after, he found God. He became a pastor, a community leader, a city councilman, a senator.

Affection seems to flow to him from unexpected places. On a tour of his district, Mr. Diaz eagerly showed a reporter Christian Community in Action, an agency he founded in the burnt-out ruins of the Bronx to provide home health aides to the sick and elderly. There, Mr. Diaz greeted Vincent Ortiz, a supervisor he has known for 18 years.

"We fight, of course," said Mr. Ortiz, who is gay. "But it is mostly good years."

But then there are moments of coldness. Last year, Lisa Winters, who runs the Bronx Pride Community Center, a group for gay youth, requested a meeting with the senator. He never responded. She showed up anyway, with a group of gay teenagers, and was told that Mr. Diaz was not in. Moments later, she said, they saw Mr. Diaz leaving his office by a side door.

(The senator said he does not recall this happening. "I never hide from anyone," he said.)

This spring, Mr. Diaz led a small delegation of legislators to Puerto Rico, and at the end of the trip, he hosted a barbeque at his family's home.

His brother -- whom Mr. Diaz will not name because, he says, the brother is not openly gay -- was there to greet the guests. There was no discussion, Mr. Diaz said, about how he would vote on gay marriage.

"We don't need to talk about that anymore," Mr. Diaz said.
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