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SCOTUS can’t define my marriage

In April, I hurried to read the transcript of the oral argument in Obergfell, the same-sex marriage case before the Supreme Court. I’m a legal nerd, and such things are of interest to me. But on page two of the transcript from that morning’s Supreme Court argument, I started crying and had to put it down. I felt stupid crying because every sign points to the gay agenda winning this round. But early on in the arguments, Chief Justice Roberts states: “You’re not seeking to join the institution, you’re seeking to change what the institution is. The fundamental core of the institution is the opposite sex relationship and you want to introduce into it a same sex relationship.” I read those words, and I lost it.

I have yet to read the oral arguments, and I probably never will. It’s not that I’m sad, or insecure in my own very gay marriage. I am just so angry that this is even a question. That my brand new marriage, that came nearly a decade into my relationship with my now-wife, is something that nine unelected officials get to debate, and decide if it counts or not. I am angry that while the same Supreme Court is set up to gut fair housing, and black people are being fucking murdered while they pray, marriage equality is even an issue at all.

Marriage has never been at the top of my own personal gay agenda. I have been deeply ambivalent about marriage since about the same time I was coming into my own queerness. When it became clear that I was with someone I wanted to spend my life with, I had to figure out if the way I wanted to do that was with marriage, if that was an institution I wanted to be a part of. I struggled with the idea of marriage as an external validation of a relationship both my partner and I knew was already plenty valid. I knew I loved my partner more than anything; I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. She has been my family long before the majority of states agreed that our type of family is legal. For some people, marriage would have been a no-brainer. But when I thought about who has access to the privileges marriage grants in our society – privileges I think should be basic human rights, such as access to health insurance – I hesitated. I disagree with the fundamental idea that we should value marriage over other relationships, and I wondered whether it would be hypocritical of me to join in an institution that I wasn’t even sure I liked.

Eventually, I decided it was hypocritical. And I decided to do it anyway. I am not a perfect feminist, nor a perfect radical queer. As it turns out, marriage is important to me. Sure, it might be shaped by the heteronormativity and patriarchy that dominates our culture. But as a child, long before I had even thought about my attraction to other women, I daydreamed about proposals and wedding dresses. My parents and parent-in-laws have both been married for over 30 years; I am honored to take part in the traditions that have formed our own families. And marriage is also important to my wife – and I have a hard time ever saying no to her. So, after nearly eight years together, and some not so subtle conversations about ring sizes, I…completely freaked out and proposed without any planning or romance. But she said yes, and almost exactly a year later, we were married.

Since we’ve been married, our relationship hasn’t changed much. We still binge watch Netflix together, and structure our Saturdays around finding bagels. We still plan our future together and stress out about money, where we’ll live, and having kids. I am still annoyed when she puts her cold feet on me at night, and overwhelmingly grateful when I wake up next to her in the morning. We are the same people, in the same relationship. But, nearly every day it seems, the list of places that decide our relationship deserves recognition grows. It is, in so many ways, incomprehensible – I sit at my desk at work and learn that I have rights somewhere new. I know I should celebrate – and I try to. I look at the photos of people who have been in relationships for most of their lives being able to get married, and I cry tears of joy.

But, on days where my marriage is a debate and our most intimate relationship a news headline, my anger gets the best of me. I am a lawyer, and can talk anyone’s ears off about why the Constitution demands marriage equality; I can quote precedent and try to guess what the split of the Justices will be. But I am sick of it. I am sick of mostly straight people deciding how my relationship should be treated, and I am angry because Roberts still thinks that our marriage is somehow separate – that, because we are two women, our marriage is somehow fundamentally different than the one my parents, in-laws, sister, and friends have. Our vows may have been different, but we all married because we loved someone, because we were committed to them, because we believed our lives would be best spent together. So when the decision comes down, assuming it is good news, I will try to quell my anger. I will try to celebrate our freedom to travel across state lines and have our legal relationship to each other remain stable. I will celebrate for the people who suddenly have rights they didn’t have before. I will spit out the bitter taste left in my mouth by Roberts, and relish the sweetness of victory. I will celebrate moving on, and having more energy to spend fighting the other injustices in the world. And no matter what, I will end the day by crawling into bed, my wife by my side, secure in the knowledge that, despite any opinion to the contrary, what we have is a marriage.

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