Meet the Couples Who Can't Marry
By Susan Paynter
Seattle Post-Intelligencer
These are the people we're afraid of if we felt reassured by this week's state Supreme Court ruling to uphold the ban on same-sex marriage.
These are the people the Defense of Marriage Act protects us against. They're the dangerous types who are threatening the institution by trying to get in on this thing we male-female couples must keep for ourselves.
Jay Porter and David Smith got married in Canada in May 2004. They've been together five years.
Jay's pretty traditional. He proposed on one knee, holding a ring in his hand, on a romantic Kihei beach on Maui.
(Gee. That's exactly where my own husband and I got engaged. But that must be totally different because we're a male and female married by a real Seattle judge.)
"By our second date, I was already pretty much a goner," Jay told me. "By the time he (David) went home with me to Oklahoma and my mother got hold of him, there was no turning back."
At the time, Massachusetts had not legalized same-sex unions. The only accessible place Jay and David could get married was in Vancouver, B.C.
"So we went to that city we loved to have a real ceremony and affirm our love for and commitment to each other," David said.
Jay's parents are evangelical Christians. Jay grew up hearing some pretty strong words against homosexuals, and that didn't make him want to jump out of the closet really fast, he said. He remembers feeling that his parents' "unconditional love" came with the asterisk (* so long as you're straight).
But, amazingly, his family "turned on a dime" when Jay and David got married.
They still worship within the same denomination, the Church of the Nazarene, although they now go to a church that doesn't make being anti-gay part of its agenda.
Jay's parents lost a few friends, but they kept their son and gained a "son-in-law." And the fact that Jay and David had an actual wedding ceremony helped everyone a lot, they say, including David's family.
The act of getting married where a government officially recognized it was important to them, David said. "It takes away the unusualness. We were making the same statement any other married couple makes. Our vows were no different from the vows our parents and other couples have said forever."
Sure, some people back home would have preferred that Jay marry a woman and live a lie, he told me. "I had always wanted to be married and finding David made that even more true."
Here's another nightmare pair for marriage protectionists:
Joyce Allen and Jessica Lynn have been together since 1992.
Both were raised Catholic but getting married in that church wasn't an option. So, in 1994, an ex-priest married them in the closest thing they could find -- a ceremony at a Quaker Friends Meeting Hall in Seattle.
That was emotionally fulfilling, Jessica said. But the pair still longed for something official. So, when same-sex unions were OK'd in Oregon, they headed for Portland in the same wedding dresses they had worn here.
"There are a few events everyone remembers for life," Joyce said. "Like the first man walking on the moon. For me, that day standing in that long line on a very busy street waiting to get married, with people driving by honking and waving, still gives me goose bumps."
In an understatement Jessica adds that, after rescinding its law, "It was a serious bummer when they (the state of Oregon) sent us our $60 back in the mail. Actually, it was horrible."
And then there's the scary James Phelps and Tim Baldwin, who've been a couple for 16 1/2 years -- ever since a friend introduced them in their hometown of Klamath Falls, Ore. (they now live in Vancouver, Wash.).
On their 15th anniversary they got married in the "other Vancouver."
Tim admits he wondered, after all those years together, what difference getting married would make. That night it hit him. He was really a part of James' family now, not just "the friend."
"Something about us having a public ceremony that was recognized by law brought a legitimacy to the commitment we'd made to each other," James said.
It mattered to their families, too. Until the wedding the families, who lived just one mile apart, had never met. Not that they objected to their sons' relationship. But, as with any family, the tradition of the event triggered something, pulling them together the way society has done for centuries.
"I don't think that part is much different for us than it is for a man and a woman," Tim said. And James added, "I feel more welcome now in Tim's brother's home. Since we've been married the family feels, 'Well, I guess this is going to last.' "
Of course the framed marriage certificate on the mantel isn't legal in this state. And, because of Wednesday's 5-4 ruling upholding discrimination based on sexual orientation, such certificates are little more than pretty paper.
"When I'm having a down day it feels like half the country doesn't want me here," said David, who is from Australia. "It doesn't make you feel very welcome."
Joyce and Jessica, too, admit to a feeling of foreboding. What if, as their parents age and need care, they must move to a state where their relationship, and their right to make decisions for one another, may well be challenged?
Sometimes, James said, it seems that great progress has been made. As a kid struggling with coming out, he never would have dreamed that marriage would be legal for him, anywhere, in his lifetime.
Still to have his marriage recognized by the state after 16 years would be good.
Now that won't happen any time soon. And it must be a relief to those bent on guarding against these barbarians at the gates of marital legitimacy that, at least so far, none of these couples has children.
According to this week's court opinion, "promoting procreation and encouraging stable families" is what our state's marriage law is all about. And, obviously, with only a total of 35 years of commitment between them, these folks could hardly be seen as stable.
Seattle Post-Intelligencer
These are the people we're afraid of if we felt reassured by this week's state Supreme Court ruling to uphold the ban on same-sex marriage.
These are the people the Defense of Marriage Act protects us against. They're the dangerous types who are threatening the institution by trying to get in on this thing we male-female couples must keep for ourselves.
Jay Porter and David Smith got married in Canada in May 2004. They've been together five years.
Jay's pretty traditional. He proposed on one knee, holding a ring in his hand, on a romantic Kihei beach on Maui.
(Gee. That's exactly where my own husband and I got engaged. But that must be totally different because we're a male and female married by a real Seattle judge.)
"By our second date, I was already pretty much a goner," Jay told me. "By the time he (David) went home with me to Oklahoma and my mother got hold of him, there was no turning back."
At the time, Massachusetts had not legalized same-sex unions. The only accessible place Jay and David could get married was in Vancouver, B.C.
"So we went to that city we loved to have a real ceremony and affirm our love for and commitment to each other," David said.
Jay's parents are evangelical Christians. Jay grew up hearing some pretty strong words against homosexuals, and that didn't make him want to jump out of the closet really fast, he said. He remembers feeling that his parents' "unconditional love" came with the asterisk (* so long as you're straight).
But, amazingly, his family "turned on a dime" when Jay and David got married.
They still worship within the same denomination, the Church of the Nazarene, although they now go to a church that doesn't make being anti-gay part of its agenda.
Jay's parents lost a few friends, but they kept their son and gained a "son-in-law." And the fact that Jay and David had an actual wedding ceremony helped everyone a lot, they say, including David's family.
The act of getting married where a government officially recognized it was important to them, David said. "It takes away the unusualness. We were making the same statement any other married couple makes. Our vows were no different from the vows our parents and other couples have said forever."
Sure, some people back home would have preferred that Jay marry a woman and live a lie, he told me. "I had always wanted to be married and finding David made that even more true."
Here's another nightmare pair for marriage protectionists:
Joyce Allen and Jessica Lynn have been together since 1992.
Both were raised Catholic but getting married in that church wasn't an option. So, in 1994, an ex-priest married them in the closest thing they could find -- a ceremony at a Quaker Friends Meeting Hall in Seattle.
That was emotionally fulfilling, Jessica said. But the pair still longed for something official. So, when same-sex unions were OK'd in Oregon, they headed for Portland in the same wedding dresses they had worn here.
"There are a few events everyone remembers for life," Joyce said. "Like the first man walking on the moon. For me, that day standing in that long line on a very busy street waiting to get married, with people driving by honking and waving, still gives me goose bumps."
In an understatement Jessica adds that, after rescinding its law, "It was a serious bummer when they (the state of Oregon) sent us our $60 back in the mail. Actually, it was horrible."
And then there's the scary James Phelps and Tim Baldwin, who've been a couple for 16 1/2 years -- ever since a friend introduced them in their hometown of Klamath Falls, Ore. (they now live in Vancouver, Wash.).
On their 15th anniversary they got married in the "other Vancouver."
Tim admits he wondered, after all those years together, what difference getting married would make. That night it hit him. He was really a part of James' family now, not just "the friend."
"Something about us having a public ceremony that was recognized by law brought a legitimacy to the commitment we'd made to each other," James said.
It mattered to their families, too. Until the wedding the families, who lived just one mile apart, had never met. Not that they objected to their sons' relationship. But, as with any family, the tradition of the event triggered something, pulling them together the way society has done for centuries.
"I don't think that part is much different for us than it is for a man and a woman," Tim said. And James added, "I feel more welcome now in Tim's brother's home. Since we've been married the family feels, 'Well, I guess this is going to last.' "
Of course the framed marriage certificate on the mantel isn't legal in this state. And, because of Wednesday's 5-4 ruling upholding discrimination based on sexual orientation, such certificates are little more than pretty paper.
"When I'm having a down day it feels like half the country doesn't want me here," said David, who is from Australia. "It doesn't make you feel very welcome."
Joyce and Jessica, too, admit to a feeling of foreboding. What if, as their parents age and need care, they must move to a state where their relationship, and their right to make decisions for one another, may well be challenged?
Sometimes, James said, it seems that great progress has been made. As a kid struggling with coming out, he never would have dreamed that marriage would be legal for him, anywhere, in his lifetime.
Still to have his marriage recognized by the state after 16 years would be good.
Now that won't happen any time soon. And it must be a relief to those bent on guarding against these barbarians at the gates of marital legitimacy that, at least so far, none of these couples has children.
According to this week's court opinion, "promoting procreation and encouraging stable families" is what our state's marriage law is all about. And, obviously, with only a total of 35 years of commitment between them, these folks could hardly be seen as stable.
posted by LNewsEditor at 9:15 AM
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