Last week I got engaged. My partner is incredible. My parents and sister are excited to welcome him to our family, and I’m thrilled to join his. Along with a lifelong commitment, I’ve gained a new perspective on marriage that I’d like to share.
I’ve
never been too concerned with marriage . Frankly, as I began to navigate adulthood, I wasn’t too sure marriage would be part of my life. I’ve never pictured myself in a wedding dress, and I cannot begin to tell you what
my wedding will look like . My parents raised me to believe that committing to one person is hard work, and the commitment should not to be entered into lightly.
When my partner asked me to be his wife, I was instantly and overwhelmingly concerned with marriage. As I’m sure most people in a happy marriage could explain, the moment of the proposal was inspired. Any conceptions I had about marriage were trumped by my desire to share my commitment to my partner with the world. When he asked, I was moved to tears.
We were staying at an inn in southern Maine. After making calls to our parents, siblings and closest friends, we wandered down to the bar for a celebratory glass of wine. News of his proposal had spread to the staff (don’t ask me how), and the bartender gave us two glasses of wine “on the house”. I sat back in our booth and basked both in the glory of being in love and committing to that love for the rest of my life.
I looked around with a teeth-baring grin and noticed a male couple having a drink at the bar. As I observed their happy interaction, I thought back to one of the first phone calls my partner and I made to our mutual friend who introduced us. Our friend was already dear to us both, but she holds a new place in our hearts as the catalyst of our relationship. We were eager to tell her that her casual introduction resulted in a lifelong commitment to a shared love.
Thinking back on the call, I was flooded with emotion and moved to tears again. Our mutual friend is loyal, generous, hard-working and brilliant. She is an out-lesbian. I turned to my new fiancé and asked him how we could marry knowing marriage laws don’t equally protect all people. I suddenly remembered that saying yes to both religiously and legally marry my partner meant opening my life up to over 1,000 new protections under the law. Those protections are not extended to every loving relationship. I reflected on the difference between my committed, loving relationship and our friend’s committed, loving relationship. I asked myself what makes one love different from the next, and more importantly, what makes one love deserve legal protections. Of course, the answer is nothing. Nothing is different about our loves, and there’s no reason I should be granted legal protections, and my friend should not.
We are happy in our engagement, but our happiness is accompanied by sadness as we acknowledge that marriage protections are currently for some, not all. We plan to acknowledge our friend at our wedding. Acknowledging her while knowing that she is not protected equally is
truly, genuinely, disturbingly heart-breaking . I wish that I could say that in solidarity I’ll abstain from legal marriage, and maybe my partner and I will make that choice. The reality is,
marriage does matter . We
want those protections. We deserve those protections. And so does every other person ready to make that commitment.
As a straight ally, I share this deeply personal story in hope that it will move you to rise to the next level in your support of marriage equality. If you don’t support equal marriage rights, I hope you’ll read my story and reconsider your position. If you do support marriage equality, I hope you’ll share your support with a friend that disagrees,
donate to an organization working for marriage equality, or simply renew your commitment to the movement.
No love should go unprotected.