Would You Marry Me Again?

Hi, folks. I’m not exactly certain why I have such apprehension about what I’m writing, as it is an issue for which I and my beloved and many others are directly impacted should Proposition 8 be voted into law next Tuesday, the proposed California Constitutional Amendment that would define the right to marry legally solely between a man and a woman. Though I am certain how I feel about the abridgement of rights and equal access to all people under the law, I fear I don’t have the words to speak as eloquently as I might. If my eloquence eludes me, I hope you’ll hear my heart. Perhaps that is why I am so apprehensive – this is an issue that weights heavily upon my heart.

I hope you’ll forgive my use of this forum for a matter that doesn’t directly relate to Sewing Arts. Though it may not always be apparent as freely as I share information, do know that I am hugely respectful of that line – as thin as it may be. However, there are times when protocol is trumped by the need to speak. I know that in this case, I am speaking with many of you who share the same viewpoint. For this, I am truly grateful. In all events, I hope you’ll excuse my presumption, and that you’ll honor me with your time to read this.

Sometime around 1989, I met my beloved, Stanley. Not right away, but sometime after that, I knew that he was the one. As life would have it, he and I (that’d be Russell, just in case you had any question), moved in together in 1994 (it was a long coffee date…). As soon as we moved in together, a chorus of friends and family began asking when we were getting married (so much for living in sin...). As far as we were concerned, we were already married – we had already proposed to one another and had the rings to prove it. (The hardest thing for same sex couples? Who proposes to whom? He beat me to the punch… I was really annoyed…)

After an evening with friends at dinner and the question posed again, I asked him when we were getting married. “Oh, I don’t know. How about the next Blue Moon?” Perfect!

We publicly professed our commitment to one another on March 31, 1999 in a ceremony at our home under the Blue Moon. It was a profound event for both of us and, I daresay, for our families and friends who participated. It deepened our relationship to one another in ways I couldn’t have foreseen, and in ways the pronouncement of the words “I do” only can connect one to another.

Sometime after that, the State of California recognized Domestic Partnership legally, at which point Stanley and I registered with the Secretary of State, memorializing our committed Domestic Partnership – the next best thing to legal marriage for which the two of us could hope.

I continued to hope for more. My mother will tell you I have always been an idealist. My idealism has been tempered slightly over time with personal experience, with prejudice (yes, there is a fair bit about still), and frankly, with ignorance (a fair bit of that, too…).Yet, I have always remained hopeful and confident that what is just will prevail.

Though not entirely surprised, my hope was somewhat distinguished in 2000 when California voters legally refused to recognize homosexual relationships on the same basis as heterosexual relationships by approving Proposition 22 which deemed marriage specifically as a legal rite for a man and a woman. I was devastated not because the failure of voters to recognize mine and Stanley’s relationship diminished our commitment to one another in any way, but profoundly disappointed that there were people who would still choose to grant equal access under the law only to those with whom they shared the same world view. However, I learned to live in that world, putting aside my thoughts and aspirations relevant to this turn. But I remained hopeful. Complacent, but hopeful.

Then, in May of this year, I was in my car when on the radio it was announced that the California State Supreme Court would rule on the ban. I was certain the court would not find in my favor, so was prepared to be disappointed.

When the announcement was read that the court had overturned the ban on same sex marriage, I burst into shouts and tears of joy. Quite frankly, I was surprised by my own reaction. I had to pull over, and immediately called Stanley and my mom to tell them the great news (yes, my mother adores me – though it’s possible she adores Stanley more…)

Before Stanley could beat me to the punch again, I proposed. As soon as we could, Stanley and I scurried down to Norwalk to get our marriage license (I was looking for the “gay” line but was gently reminded that “equal” was not “separate”.) We were legally married on June 21, 2008, and shortly thereafter received our official Marriage License. It now sits framed on the mantel in our home – a home that we’ve shared for almost 15 years.

I didn’t realize how strongly I felt about the right to marry until that day in the car when the court granted Stanley and me the right. And now there are those who want to strip us of it. And I am at a loss to understand why. I am at a loss to understand how the expression of love in whatever form it takes diminishes anyone. I am at a loss to how anyone can justify limiting equal access under the law.

I profess that the older I get the less I know - much less than when I was younger. But I do know that love lifts us up. All of us. This I was taught by church and by family. That commitment, honor and respect are values to extol – not to deny. That the expression of love regardless the form edifies, is virtuous and beyond reproach or contempt. And that no one may stand in judgment of the expression love takes. And in my own naivety and ignorance, in my own bias and prejudice I endeavor to remain mindful of this.

So, now you know a bit more about me and the man I adore than perhaps you knew a page ago. Now you know of two men who are gay, who are in a committed relationship with one another for almost 15 years now. Whose families and friends embrace without question. Who love and honor one another. Who look forward to growing older together. Who, in the dark of night, every once in awhile turn to the other and ask, “Would you marry me again?” And unequivocally reply, “Over and over again."

I am hopeful that my words will reach you where love lives and fear falls away, and that you will join me in voting NO on Proposition 8 come Tuesday.

From my heart to yours, thank you. Russell