I’m married. At least K and I feel we’re married. We’ve already had two marriage “ceremonies”. One on a beach in Maui, just the two of us, words spoken, rings exchanged, sand ceremony, poetry read, and lots of love. We consider that one our real marriage ceremony. It might not, technically, have been legal, but it was sincere, honest, and full of love. It had everything, everything we needed and wanted anyway. It was beautiful, and perfect. The second, not actually a ceremony, was when I walked into the courthouse, paid the filing fee, and left with a domestic partnership certificate for the two of us. We had to certify that we’d lived together for a certain length of time, by then we’d been together for a few years.
Now, nearly 11 years later, we’re living in Illinois, not Oregon, and in June, when the Illinois marriage law takes effect, we can, once again, get married. We find this funny by the way. Not funny that we’ve had to wait for marriage or hope for marriage or long for equality, but funny that this will be our third time. We joke that maybe this time it will stick. One can only hope.
All of this has me thinking. What makes a marriage?
In June we will take our domestic partnership certificate in to the courthouse here in Illinois and exchange it for a marriage license. They will back date our marriage license to the date we got our domestic partnership, which is great. It means we will be considered legally married from that date, which was like, oh, six or seven years ago. I can’t remember. It wasn’t THE marriage so we honestly don’t even know the date we did it. I’m sure it says on the certificate. And, suddenly, miraculously, we will be, after all these years, legally married.
The thing is, we are already married. When we made those vows to each other on that beach in Maui, we meant them. We didn’t need someone else to sanction it, or tell us it was OK. We just needed to hear from each other that we loved and were loved in return.
So what’s the big deal about legal. Well, it is a big deal. Not so much to us, or to our friends and family who I think all consider us already married as well. It’s a big deal because we will be protected under the law. The taxes we pay will, finally, be used to our benefit, and we won’t be paying for other people to enjoy freedoms and benefits that to this point we weren’t allowed. We will be the same.
The same. That’s the thing, really. We are the same as everyone else. I know I’ve said this before. We laugh, we love, we have friends and go to family functions with both sides of our families. We work and do the dishes and go out to dinner and clean our bathrooms and mow our lawn. We vacation, collecting heart rocks on every trip, take our dogs to the groomer, and go to the movies. We babysit our grandchildren and buy organic food and go on bike rides. We live. We live and yet we’ve always felt just a little bit separate. We’ve been made to feel separate. We’ve been told we are less than. We aren’t. But this is why gay groups have sprung up and gay people have banded together and held each others hands and been out and proud to be out. We’ve had to. We’ve had to in order to feel what community feels like, since the larger community has shunned and pushed us away for so long.
And now… now we will be the same. Still ridiculed and feared in same places, by some people, but the same legally. We will, finally, be included, be part of the larger crowd. We will be, honestly, the same. Which is all we’ve ever wanted. To continue to live normal lives and instead of being gay Tam, I’ll be Tam. I’ll be Tam and K will be K and we will be married. Married just like my Mom was married and my grandparents were married and K’s parents are married.
We will be married. A piece of paper does not make a marriage, but it sure makes a marriage a legal, tangible, and a real thing in the eyes of the law. It makes it real in the eyes of the community at large, even those who would still try to deny us. What has, and will always be, real and true to us, will be real and true to our larger community.