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This is one of the pieces I'm intending to submit to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kythryne's The Right to Marry: GLBT and Polyamorous People Speak Out About Marriage Equality project.
A couple of years ago, the Commonwealth of Massachusetts had one of those "Defense of Marriage Act" things rattling around in the legislature. There was a public hearing for it and a few other bills before the Judiciary Committee, upon which my representative sits; the public was invited to attend and offer comment.
I went. I spent much of the time I was there observing the arguments and trying to compose my speech for when they called my name. I had to leave before I gave my little speech; I was depending onteinedreugan to come and pick me up, it was getting late, and I kept having really dramatic nosebleeds which sort of put a crimp on my presentability in a public persona.
This is what I would have said, more or less, if I'd been able to speak.
This is a story about my partner, and myself.
We were high school sweethearts. After a bit of hit or miss interaction lasting the better part of a year, we finally wound up in a relationship in the festivities surrounding Homecoming of my senior year. We were each other's first lovers, first successful long-term relationships; we lived that strange American myth of the summer romance movie.
We navigated the trials of a very difficult summer when my parents separated, and worked to maintain our relationships as a partnership when I came to college here in Massachusetts. Despite the difficulties in maintaining a long-distance relationship, we survived.
My partner supported me when I had to drop out of school, through my parents' divorce, through the trials and turmoils of trying to get jobs and trying to survive.
After successfully graduating with an engineering degree, my partner looked for work, and found a job in Massachusetts. We moved in together, first in the apartment I was sharing with friends, then an apartment alone, and finally we bought a house. Our hopes from our teenage years of spending our lives together are being realised every day.
teinedreugan and I were married by a Justice of the Peace in the living room of our house in Lynn on 21 December, 2000, five years to the day after he proposed to me. I wore a red dress.
Because my partner, my high school sweetheart, is a man, we could do that.
I remember reading once about a woman who had a lovely engagement ring, and a child asked her about it. They talked a little while, and the child asked her when the wedding was; the woman said that they hadn't set a date yet, they were having a long engagement until things got better for them. The child wished her happiness, and she went away with those earnest well-wishings and the knowledge that she did not know when a date could be set for her to marry her partner.
Her partner is not a man.
The Massachusetts DOMA was procedurally killed and never made it to a vote. As I write this, the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court is deliberating (and well overdue for a result) a case that would grant same-sex couples equal access to marriage in the Commonwealth.
kythryne's The Right to Marry: GLBT and Polyamorous People Speak Out About Marriage Equality project.A couple of years ago, the Commonwealth of Massachusetts had one of those "Defense of Marriage Act" things rattling around in the legislature. There was a public hearing for it and a few other bills before the Judiciary Committee, upon which my representative sits; the public was invited to attend and offer comment.
I went. I spent much of the time I was there observing the arguments and trying to compose my speech for when they called my name. I had to leave before I gave my little speech; I was depending on
teinedreugan to come and pick me up, it was getting late, and I kept having really dramatic nosebleeds which sort of put a crimp on my presentability in a public persona.This is what I would have said, more or less, if I'd been able to speak.
This is a story about my partner, and myself.
We were high school sweethearts. After a bit of hit or miss interaction lasting the better part of a year, we finally wound up in a relationship in the festivities surrounding Homecoming of my senior year. We were each other's first lovers, first successful long-term relationships; we lived that strange American myth of the summer romance movie.
We navigated the trials of a very difficult summer when my parents separated, and worked to maintain our relationships as a partnership when I came to college here in Massachusetts. Despite the difficulties in maintaining a long-distance relationship, we survived.
My partner supported me when I had to drop out of school, through my parents' divorce, through the trials and turmoils of trying to get jobs and trying to survive.
After successfully graduating with an engineering degree, my partner looked for work, and found a job in Massachusetts. We moved in together, first in the apartment I was sharing with friends, then an apartment alone, and finally we bought a house. Our hopes from our teenage years of spending our lives together are being realised every day.
teinedreugan and I were married by a Justice of the Peace in the living room of our house in Lynn on 21 December, 2000, five years to the day after he proposed to me. I wore a red dress.Because my partner, my high school sweetheart, is a man, we could do that.
I remember reading once about a woman who had a lovely engagement ring, and a child asked her about it. They talked a little while, and the child asked her when the wedding was; the woman said that they hadn't set a date yet, they were having a long engagement until things got better for them. The child wished her happiness, and she went away with those earnest well-wishings and the knowledge that she did not know when a date could be set for her to marry her partner.
Her partner is not a man.
The Massachusetts DOMA was procedurally killed and never made it to a vote. As I write this, the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court is deliberating (and well overdue for a result) a case that would grant same-sex couples equal access to marriage in the Commonwealth.
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Not to be the unfeeling pragmatist but,
I, under the visage of the Bastard, have to ask, what are the tangibles of what you are fighting for?
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Re: Not to be the unfeeling pragmatist but,
Marriage in the eyes of the state is a political issue: religions can do what they want. There are religious groups now that will perform same-sex marriages, and others that won't perform cross-religion marriages. That's their privilege: but when a lesbian has to pick up her partner's sick child from school, it makes a difference that the state doesn't recognize that she is also that child's mother.
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Re: Not to be the unfeeling pragmatist but,
Don't misunderstand, I'm not in argument of the sentiment. To me it's a question of effort vs. reward and consequences. While I understand the political vs religion thing, the FLDS practices gain a certain legal shelter if poly marriages are a matter of law. It's not polyamory I have an issue with, it's the coercive practices of FLDSers.
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Re: Not to be the unfeeling pragmatist but,
There are alleged to be over 1000 federal rights, and several hundred local ones depending on which state you're in.
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Re: Not to be the unfeeling pragmatist but,
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Personally, as someone who's poly (though not currently interested in marrying more than one person, there are several reasons I'd like legal marriage to be negotiable.
1) I heard a few too many stories from
2) Having gone through the immigration process myself (my husband's Canadian), I think it's absolutely *lousy* that I got to be with a man I love because we happen to be of the appropriate genders, but that other people don't have that option.
3) I understand the financial arguments and other issues. However most poly folk I know would simply like to be able to name one other adult to their policy - not all of them. (Generally, with multiple people in a relationship working, you can usually work *something* out, and I think most people are realistic about the financial burden on employers in such cases)
Additionally, my own employer's policy is that they pay for my insurance, but if I wanted to add my husband, he could be covered, but we'd have to pay the full premium. (i.e. there'd be no added direct financial burden on the school I work for for adding him. We could argue about whether broadening the pool of people being insured is a benefit to them or not, but in this case chances are they'd benefit for the next 20 years or so, 'cause my husband's in his early 20s and generally healthy.)
4) What I know a number of committed long-term poly relationships would like to be able to do is to designate multiple people (partners) as next-of-kin and able to make relevant medical/childcare/related decisions without jumping through lots of hoops that may or may not work.
But there's lots of nice stuff about the relevant legal issues and rights and benefits associated with marriage at the journal above.
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Re: Not to be the unfeeling pragmatist but,
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Re: Not to be the unfeeling pragmatist but,
Oh BTW hi Scott.
Spyder
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Re: Not to be the unfeeling pragmatist but,
The one that I always think of isn't generally government-granted, but is affected by the legal status of the people involved: the ability to visit a loved one (parnter/child) who's been terribly hurt and is in the hospital.
(There are probably other, related issues, such as the ability to be involved in Do-Not-Resuscitate decisions, or to visit those in detention or incarceration.)
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MAO