I feel compelled to comment.
Today the Washington State Supreme Court dashed the hopes of thousands of Washingtonians. We hoped to step up to the status of full-fledged citizen, with the same rights as every straight Washingtonian. We hoped those seven individuals would make history -- and more importantly make right.
Instead, bigotry and small-mindedness prevailed. I'm beginning to get a little too accustomed to those companions.
No, don't get me wrong. I encounter little to no discrimination in my everyday life -- that I am aware is because of my sexual orientation, that is. Mostly I live with the same sense of entitled privilege as the average white, educated, middle class American. My state legislature has protected me from job and housing discrimination. I am out to everyone in my life, and it's a rare circumstance that makes me think twice before revealing my sexual orientation. The organizations Ami and I work for both offer partner benefits. We are very lucky, in the grand scheme of things.
And yet we lose out. As we marry, as we age, as we grow a family those losses will manifest. We will fight for what our neighbors barely notice, like the families I saw tonight at the protest rally. They had been through a two-and-a-half year court battle to protect their families from unseen possibilities. Possibilities like a sick partner she is not able to care for without Family Medical Leave benefits. Possibilities like a long adoption process for the non-biological mother.
I will attempt to recreate one plaintiff's comments. "I'm the Virgo," she said as she took the mic. Her partner had given an emotional speech about love and heart. "I am the practical one." She went on to describe the letter she would write to straight friends when they sent wedding invitations. "We regret that we are not able to join you for your wedding. We find it impossible to share your day of joy and love while our union goes unrecognized. We wish you a happy wedding day, and trust that you will understand." Applause scattered through the room.
"We have made a donation in your name to an organization fighting for marriage rights for all of us," she concluded. We all laughed and clapped. Being me, I cried (once out of maybe five times during the rally).
I gave an interview to a reporter today about our feelings on the decision. I don't know if they'll use my quotes, but I'll let you know if they do.
I had hoped to celebrate not only our marriage but many marriages on August 26. Our outlaw theme is an attempt to be both lighthearted and in-your-face about a mindless restriction, but it holds some sadness today.
We will embarrass our grandchildren with our backwardness. I look forward to that.
Instead, bigotry and small-mindedness prevailed. I'm beginning to get a little too accustomed to those companions.
No, don't get me wrong. I encounter little to no discrimination in my everyday life -- that I am aware is because of my sexual orientation, that is. Mostly I live with the same sense of entitled privilege as the average white, educated, middle class American. My state legislature has protected me from job and housing discrimination. I am out to everyone in my life, and it's a rare circumstance that makes me think twice before revealing my sexual orientation. The organizations Ami and I work for both offer partner benefits. We are very lucky, in the grand scheme of things.
And yet we lose out. As we marry, as we age, as we grow a family those losses will manifest. We will fight for what our neighbors barely notice, like the families I saw tonight at the protest rally. They had been through a two-and-a-half year court battle to protect their families from unseen possibilities. Possibilities like a sick partner she is not able to care for without Family Medical Leave benefits. Possibilities like a long adoption process for the non-biological mother.
I will attempt to recreate one plaintiff's comments. "I'm the Virgo," she said as she took the mic. Her partner had given an emotional speech about love and heart. "I am the practical one." She went on to describe the letter she would write to straight friends when they sent wedding invitations. "We regret that we are not able to join you for your wedding. We find it impossible to share your day of joy and love while our union goes unrecognized. We wish you a happy wedding day, and trust that you will understand." Applause scattered through the room.
"We have made a donation in your name to an organization fighting for marriage rights for all of us," she concluded. We all laughed and clapped. Being me, I cried (once out of maybe five times during the rally).
I gave an interview to a reporter today about our feelings on the decision. I don't know if they'll use my quotes, but I'll let you know if they do.
I had hoped to celebrate not only our marriage but many marriages on August 26. Our outlaw theme is an attempt to be both lighthearted and in-your-face about a mindless restriction, but it holds some sadness today.
We will embarrass our grandchildren with our backwardness. I look forward to that.
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