Standing Up for Gay (& Straight) Marriage

It's a challenge writing a regular blog about a single topic - trying to bring a fresh perspective to the issue each time, and looking for little bits of interest tom your readers.

So today I thought I'd reach back a bit in time to my first gay wedding, or at least the first celebration of a commitment between two of my gay friends that I ever attended.

Gay marriage seems like such a modern invention - until San Francisco Mayor Gavin Newsom opened the floodgates in February, 2004 with weddings at City Hall on Valentines Day, the very idea that we might see the rights and responsibilities of marriage in the GLBT community in our lifetimes seemed absurd.

But for as long as there have been GLBT relationships, there have been many among us who have sought ways to express our love and commitment to each other in front of friends and family.

It was 1989 or 1990, and I was just a couple years out of high school.  Though I had known about what I then thought of as my "gay side" since junior high, I was still in the closet, thinking I could have it both ways - have these gay feelings, but still live a straight life.  I remember thinking I had these feelings to help me be a better person - to realize that GLBT folks were worthy of respect, too, even if I chose not to act on them myself.

I was dating a woman at the time, and one of her friends came to us and said he wanted to exchange rings with his partner.

So my girlfriend and I, another friend, and the happy couple got together at the Huntington Library - an amazing place in Arcadia, California, that includes several art museums and lush gardens that are regularly open to the public.

If you've never been to the Huntington, let me paint a picture for you: the grounds surround a grand mansion, and include tropical and subtropical gardens, a Japanese garden, a cactus garden, and some amazing stands of bamboo by a quiet pond, where the couple had decided to exchange vows.

We arrived at the Huntington on a sunny afternoon, made our way down the hillside through the subtropical gardens to the bamboo forest, and filed through the soaring shoots of bamboo to a quiet, secluded clearing near the pond.  Above us, the wind whispered through the bamboo; all around us, other visitors wandered by now and then.

I, my girlfriend, and friend gathered around the couple, creating with our bodies a safe place that blocked out the rest of the world, and with a nervous glance around, the little ceremony began.

The couple shared their vows, and then exchanged rings, and I remember how quickly it went by - there was such a feeling of love and protection there, but also of urgency - that we help these two seal their bonds before anyone else could stop us.  Then we all filed back out of the forest, into the real world once again.

I've since thought about that day many times, and in light of the current fight for gay marriage, I'm thinking about it once again.

Here, in bold relief, is another point of commonality between gay marriage and its straight cousin - whenever we attend a civil union, commitment ceremony, or state sanctioned gay marriage, aren't we all, in effect, gathering in a circle around the happy couple, using our own love as a shield for all the ills of the outside world that may mean their relationship harm?

Aren't we, in the most basic sense, providing a support system for this new relationship, to help it grow and mature in a healthy way?

In The Laramie Project, there's a scene that always moves me to tears.  If you haven't seen it, it's about the beating and death of Matthew Shepard, and the community response afterward.  At the funeral, Fred Phelps, the rabidly anti-gay "minister" from Kansas showed up with a few supporters, carrying "God Hates Fags" posters.

Can you imagine burying someone you love, and having to deal with such naked hatred at the same time?

But then something beautiful happened.  A group of angels appeared - volunteers all in white, with angel wings, who walked up silently to stand in front of Phelps and his ilk, and blocked them from the view of the funeral party.

It was breathtaking to see, even in re-enactment, an act of such simple beauty, love, and heartbreaking dignity.

And this is, to me, the essence of what each of us, gay or straight, need to bring to this marriage debate.  This is where we find common ground - whenever two consenting adults ask us to support their relationship, we show up.

We need to spread our wings, block out the ugliness of the world outside, and create a safe space where they can live and love and grow together.

--Scott