Last week, a Senate committee removed the language that would ban civil unions from the amendment, which would still need to survive the Senate, the House (again) and a statewide referendum to become law. But Murphy, the activist responsible for tomorrow's Rick Santorum impersonation contest, nevertheless raises an interesting question: Can Philadelphia, which promotes itself as a gay-friendly city, maintain that reputation in a state that appears headed in the opposite direction?

Until recently, gay and lesbian communities have taken root largely based on the culture of a place. There have been certain laws that distinguished municipalities from one another—things like adoption rights, nondiscrimination laws and, until the Supreme Court struck them down in 2003, anti-sodomy laws—but they've generally not been high-profile enough to define a locale's image. For Philly, a relatively liberal city with a thriving gayborhood, it didn't matter that it was a triangular pink island floating in a sea of red.

But as the country proceeds toward a federalist solution to the marriage-rights question, the cultural bases for gay communities will be complemented by a central legal question: Can we get married there? And Philly will no longer be able to avoid its home state.

Thus far, there's no evidence to suggest that gays and lesbians are relocating in meaningful numbers to states that grant them marriage rights, according to Evan Wolfson of Freedom to Marry, a leading marriage-rights advocacy group. But Philly is in a unique situation: It is very, very close to New Jersey, where a historically gay-friendly state Supreme Court is considering allowing gay marriage. In fact, as early as 2003, the Inquirer detailed a gay boom in Jersey, which it attributed to "groundbreaking laws and court decisions."

Lately, leaders of Philly's gay community have been hearing buzz about relocation.

"I do have some friends in Philadelphia who strongly suggest that they're getting the hell out of this state if this passes," Michael P. Williams, former director of the city's Minority Enterprise Business Council and a gay man who's been living with his partner in the Philly region for 17 years, writes in an e-mail.

"I am absolutely" hearing talk about it, echoes Renee Gilinger of Liberty PA, a statewide LGBT Democratic organization.

At the same time, they're not sure that a mass exodus—a crowd of people chartering a bus—is likely.

"If it passes, I'm not going to wake up the next day and just move to New Jersey," says Kelly Groves, co-chair of the Liberty City Gay and Lesbian Democratic Club. Groves thinks that the legislature's consideration of this bill, when gay marriage is already illegal in Pennsylvania, is "a slap in the face," but that people don't move because of an insult. People relocate because they'll have reached a point in their lives and relationships where it seems sensible.

"When I have to start considering things like domestic partnerships," says Charles Fischer, a 25-year-old who does marketing for an education company, "it would seem stupid not to move to New Jersey."

Activists like Murphy hope to press local pols into action by pushing the economic angle: not just that people like Fischer pay taxes, but that Philly's culture might change if they leave—which some say could affect the city's prosperity. In 2002, the author Richard Florida advanced a theory that gay-friendly cities attracted a demographic he dubbed "the creative class," which was central, he said, to economic growth (although Florida's research is controversial).

Michael Hinson, the mayor's LGBT liaison, sounds only slightly worried. "Our resilience as a city continues through these challenges," he says. "Obviously, the stuff that's going on in the state hurts us in some way."