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Last Wednesday morning my partner Liza and I had a wonderful and much-needed vacation temporary soured for us when we happened to buy the local paper in order to watch Bush twist in the wind as he attempted to justify his bullshit rationale for war. Misled by the headline--"Bush Stands Firm On War"--we discovered when we read the story that Bush had decided to deflect criticism about the war in Iraq by declaring war on me and Liza.
Yes, I'm talking about that much-discussed threat to "codify" heterosexual marriage. Today there was an article on DU arguing that such a threat would backfire immensely because even Scalia wouldn't uphold a federal law that was that dismissive of states' rights. With all due respect to what was overall a great article, I must point out that I think this is an underestimation of what Bush is really planning. We already have a federal law "codifying" marriage--the infamous Defense Of Marriage Act--and Vermont has demonstrated that it is not strong enough to prevent a state government from granting same-sex couples the same legal rights as heterosexual ones. The most effective way for him to "codify" heterosexual marriage would be to push through a constitutional amendment, and when we read that article, that's what we assumed was in the works.
That's why Liza said, a few minutes later, "If this passes, would you consider moving to Canada?"
Before I get around to my answer to that question, let me back up.
Liza and I fell in love almost 15 years ago. We have never lived in a state that had a domestic partnership or civil union statute that would have allowed us to legally register as a couple. As we are both Catholic, we also do not belong to a church that is liable to ever allow us to have a religious ceremony. As a matter of fact, the Vatican is busily trying to outdo the Bush administration on this subject, arguing not only that same-sex marriage is an evil they will never sanction but that placing adopted children with same-sex couples is "actually doing violence" to the children. Yes, because they are SO much safer in the company of those celibate priests...but I digress.
We could, of course, have had a commitment ceremony anyway, as many of our lesbian friends chose to do. We never have. It took my family a very long time to accept my sexuality and to accept Liza, and during the first, oh, 8 years or so of our relationship, I doubt my parents would have attended any ceremony we had, which would have made me very sad. By the time they came around, we had already been together for so long that it seemed sort of pointless to have a ceremony just to affirm that we were committed to each other; we had realized that about six months after we started going out.
When we had been together ten years, we bought each other matching rings and exchanged them on our anniversary. We had been excited about this at the time, but we were both surprised to discover how much it meant to us afterwards. Even now, almost five years later, I still love looking at the ring on her hand, and I still look at mine and remember how lucky I am to get to spend my life with her. I would never have realized until we did it that it would actually matter to us to have this one symbol of marriage.
Still, we have never had a public ceremony; and one of the reasons is that it just galls Liza too much that it would have no legal meaning. Liza is a lawyer, and I guess because the law is her whole career, she really has an emotional investment in the law that I don't have. The Lawrence decision meant a lot to her; we read it together, and I could tell that it was touching her in a way that was different from the way I was reacting to it. The Lawrence decision made it seem as if American law was finally catching up with justice, where we are concerned, and that gay rights law had turned the corner the same way civil rights law turned the corner after Brown v. Board of Education.
All the same, neither of us had ever made same-sex marriage a make-or-break issue when choosing a candidate; there were a lot of things that mattered more to us, like the war, social justice, and so on. We have been lucky; we're both alive and in good health, we have no dependents, neither of us has lost a job or had to go through a life-threatening illness, and now that my parents have come around we no longer worry about our families trying to prevent us from, say, seeing each other in the hospital in case one of us ends up in critical condition. So the fact that our relationship is not recognized by state or federal law has only impacted our lives symbolically--until we started thinking about having children.
Here, it starts to spring into much sharper focus. We have already had to give up on adopting from China after the Chinese government put new restrictions in its policy to prevent lesbian couples from adopting children out of their orphanages. Adopting in this country is something we have yet to fully research, but we can only assume it will be a nightmare. Even if we can manage to adopt domestically, there is the issue of health insurance. Liza would like to take time off work when the children are young; but once she's not employed full-time she will have no health insurance, and of course I can't put her on my health insurance because we are, what, not married. My employers could of course decide to do that anyway; but I know my employers, and the chances of them voluntarily doing that are about the same as those of George W. Bush getting into heaven.
Still. It never became an emigration-worthy issue, until George W. Bush gave his ninth press conference.
Liza's point of view was this: how can we stay in a country that is going to *write discrimination against us into its constitution,* when right over the border is a country that is nationally recognizing same-sex relationships? How could we respect ourselves and still live here? What would we tell our children about why we stayed in a country that has actually amended its constitution in order to declare that the relationship between their parents is null and void--or worse?
She has a point. If you look over the history of constitutional amendments, you will note that most of them, apart from those that have been repealed (like Prohibition) are about either protecting the rights of all Americans, or *extending* rights and privileges to previously disenfranchised groups. If they can get a constitutional amendment against gay marriage to pass, that will be the first time that the constitution has been amended in order to *restrict* the civil rights of a particular group. There are any number of reasons why this would be a disaster for constitutional law in general--I mention the concept of states' rights and the idea of the separation between church and state, to name but two--but the main thing is that such an amendment would make discrimination against us part of the legal bedrock of our country.
In "Cabaret," a Jewish character who has been passing as Christian in 1930s Germany says, "A Jew in Berlin? Only a fool is this, I am thinking." Maybe I'm an idiot to want to be a lesbian in George Bush's America. Maybe we should go to Canada. We're close enough to it we could drive it in a day. We would have to give up our careers, of course; but we like the Lake Superior area a lot, maybe there's a resort somewhere that could use a couple of highly overeducated housekeepers.
I told her that I think it would take a lot to make me go to Canada; that after all the Constitution treated African-Americans shamefully for hundreds of years and they stuck around and fought and so should we. She said, "OK, but think about it." She won't go without me, of course; but I won't stay behind without her, either.
So this is what the "issue of gay marriage" means for us, now. Whether we can live here or not. That's what this whole debate is about, from where we are. I don't plan to spend a lot of time on the "do you support gay marriage" threads, because frankly it's too painful for me to watch; but I thought my straight DU brethren and sistren might like to know what it's like for someone on the other side.
C ya,
The Plaid Adder
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