You'll notice what the answer doesn't contain.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Thoughts on Marriage
I originally posted this piece at Radioactive Quill on August 10th.
Back in '03-'04, the radically radical and unelectable Howard Dean was all kinds of vilified for standing up for civil unions. Everyone gets the same rights, he said. If states want to expand the definition of marriage, that's their business.
And I admit it: I repeated the talking point. Later in '04, I repeated it for John Kerry. It made sense to me politically. Hell, it made sense personally; the gayest gay activist I knew was still bad-mouthing gay marriage during the 2006 elections, and even though I had come around, I wasn't about to tell him his life.
By early 2007, though, I was throwing down the gauntlet. I took a class called "Philosophy of Law." For the final, we were divided into teams and asked to make the case (in a sort of pseudo-moot-court setting) for or against gay marriage from the point of view of a randomly selected philosophy studied in class. I don't remember which philosophy we drew. I do remember that I, not my gay teammate, was the one who wrangled the five straight dudes and got everyone on board for unapologetic advocacy of gay marriage.
So what changed between 2003 and 2007? The world shifted politically, it's true. Maybe the wars fading from consciousness allowed social issues to take a more prominent role; I certainly remember feeling, in '03, that many things could be forgiven for a candidate who opposed invading Iraq. I wasn't feeling so generous when the primary season for the 2008 presidential began.
I do feel that the personal changes I went through during those years were more important than the political changes, however.
When you're young and starting college, if you're like me, you're straight with gay friends, and the gay friends seem exactly like you. They are puttering around and dating the wrong people and questioning the society they are about to join as full adults. They don't want to get married, because they haven't found anyone they want to be married to. I totally get that; I didn't want to be married, either, because up until I met FH, an empty and lonely life seemed preferable to all likely candidates. The thought of marrying someone other than FH still seems perfectly ghastly.
But at some point, a girl you know moves in with another girl. And maybe they adopt a cat. And maybe it happens slowly, or maybe it's a lightning bolt, but eventually you realize that they are going to spend their lives together. From deep inside you, from a place of empathy and love, comes the realization: "That's a marriage." And at that point, the idea of denying anyone what you yourself want to have some day seems so fucking cruel that it immediately jumps to the level of Litmus Test.
This isn't precisely the story of what happened to me. Honestly, I don't remember exactly who or what influenced my progression. I remember that it was like I just described -- that one day, the defenders of "traditional marriage" just seemed so mean and stupid and offensive that I wasn't willing to cede ground any longer. No one gets to dictate to others what the best and most meaningful way to love is, least of all someone like Rick Santorum.
In short, I grew up a little, and realized that, in the adult world, marriage matters a lot more than it did to me when I was a baby student.
I'm in a slightly different place now. I'm getting married three months from Friday. Getting married has made me a fiercer advocate for marriage equality. Just as I wouldn't join a restricted country club, I can't participate in an exclusionary institution without making extra-loud noise about how unfair my privilege is. My love is no better -- no purer, no more moral, no truer -- than the love of someone else, and I am deeply offended that anyone would presume to tell me it is.
By an accident of genetics, I'm a woman attracted to men. By an accident of genetics, FH is a man drawn to women. We are not champions of a traditional ideal and make no claims on that heritage. What we are is two adults in love who believe very strongly that our privileges should be extended to any and all two adults in love. If our marriage stands for anything, let it stand for that. Let us stand on the side of love.
Back in '03-'04, the radically radical and unelectable Howard Dean was all kinds of vilified for standing up for civil unions. Everyone gets the same rights, he said. If states want to expand the definition of marriage, that's their business.
And I admit it: I repeated the talking point. Later in '04, I repeated it for John Kerry. It made sense to me politically. Hell, it made sense personally; the gayest gay activist I knew was still bad-mouthing gay marriage during the 2006 elections, and even though I had come around, I wasn't about to tell him his life.
By early 2007, though, I was throwing down the gauntlet. I took a class called "Philosophy of Law." For the final, we were divided into teams and asked to make the case (in a sort of pseudo-moot-court setting) for or against gay marriage from the point of view of a randomly selected philosophy studied in class. I don't remember which philosophy we drew. I do remember that I, not my gay teammate, was the one who wrangled the five straight dudes and got everyone on board for unapologetic advocacy of gay marriage.
So what changed between 2003 and 2007? The world shifted politically, it's true. Maybe the wars fading from consciousness allowed social issues to take a more prominent role; I certainly remember feeling, in '03, that many things could be forgiven for a candidate who opposed invading Iraq. I wasn't feeling so generous when the primary season for the 2008 presidential began.
I do feel that the personal changes I went through during those years were more important than the political changes, however.
When you're young and starting college, if you're like me, you're straight with gay friends, and the gay friends seem exactly like you. They are puttering around and dating the wrong people and questioning the society they are about to join as full adults. They don't want to get married, because they haven't found anyone they want to be married to. I totally get that; I didn't want to be married, either, because up until I met FH, an empty and lonely life seemed preferable to all likely candidates. The thought of marrying someone other than FH still seems perfectly ghastly.
But at some point, a girl you know moves in with another girl. And maybe they adopt a cat. And maybe it happens slowly, or maybe it's a lightning bolt, but eventually you realize that they are going to spend their lives together. From deep inside you, from a place of empathy and love, comes the realization: "That's a marriage." And at that point, the idea of denying anyone what you yourself want to have some day seems so fucking cruel that it immediately jumps to the level of Litmus Test.
This isn't precisely the story of what happened to me. Honestly, I don't remember exactly who or what influenced my progression. I remember that it was like I just described -- that one day, the defenders of "traditional marriage" just seemed so mean and stupid and offensive that I wasn't willing to cede ground any longer. No one gets to dictate to others what the best and most meaningful way to love is, least of all someone like Rick Santorum.
In short, I grew up a little, and realized that, in the adult world, marriage matters a lot more than it did to me when I was a baby student.
I'm in a slightly different place now. I'm getting married three months from Friday. Getting married has made me a fiercer advocate for marriage equality. Just as I wouldn't join a restricted country club, I can't participate in an exclusionary institution without making extra-loud noise about how unfair my privilege is. My love is no better -- no purer, no more moral, no truer -- than the love of someone else, and I am deeply offended that anyone would presume to tell me it is.
By an accident of genetics, I'm a woman attracted to men. By an accident of genetics, FH is a man drawn to women. We are not champions of a traditional ideal and make no claims on that heritage. What we are is two adults in love who believe very strongly that our privileges should be extended to any and all two adults in love. If our marriage stands for anything, let it stand for that. Let us stand on the side of love.
From "The Commitment"
Starting on page 119:
When I can't sleep -- something that happens at least three nights a week -- I sometimes just sit and watch Terry sleeping. He takes a breath, there's a pause, he exhales, there's another pause. What, I wonder, would I do if this man stopped breathing? Can the day-to-day misery of being along be worth the risk of being absolutely shattered if Terry should die before me? If Terry were to die today, if a knock came at the door tonight, if some stranger arrived to tell me that I would never be able to speak to Terry again, or hold him, or look into his eyes, or smell him, or listen to him breathe -- just writing these words makes my stomach hurt.
Being single visits a kind of constant, low-intensity misery on a person -- at least on a person who doesn't want to be single. Coming home to an empty house, not having anyone to confide in, facing illnesses on your own -- being along hurts, but people can get used to it. But being in a long-term relationship doesn't spare you from all that day-to-day pain. It just banks it. Every day I'm with Terry, every day I'm not alone, a little misery gets put into a savings account, where interest is compounded hourly. The day Terry dies, all the pain I avoided when I was with him will be paid out all at once; I will suffer a windfall of misery. I imagine the pain would feel literally like being torn in two. Maybe that's what people mean when they talk about "one flesh"?
Monday, September 19, 2011
From "Marriage and Morals"
"It is therefore possible for a civilized man and woman to be happy in marriage, although if this is to be the case a number of conditions must be fulfilled. There must be a feeling of complete equality on both sides; there must be no interference with mutual freedom; there must be the most complete physical and mental intimacy; and there must be a certain similarity in regard to standards of values...Given all these conditions, I believe marriage to be the best and most important relation that can exist between two human beings...If marriage is to achieve its possibilities, husbands and wives must learn to understand that whatever the law may say, in their private lives they must be free."
- Pg. 143-144
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
An Athiest's Prayer
I'm getting married in 8.5 weeks, and I perceive a lack of web content that speaks to my situation. I don't need relationship help; we have a great relationship (if we didn't, we wouldn't be getting married). I don't need guidance for how to have a good marriage; I have my parents, as well as my larger community, as role models.
What I need is to be able to read and talk about things that speak to our ultimate goal: A wifeless marriage.
Historically, wives only exist as subordinate to husbands. That's pretty much over, as far as secular society goes. (You can have your own checking account, ladies! Woohoo!) That being said, the tradition lives on in a thousand little ways. For me, a part of getting married is disowning that history. It's not as simple as it sounds.
There are conservative Christian resources all over the web which teach how to embrace that history. Hell, a prominent Republican presidential candidate boasts about how she's a "submissive wife" and only got her degree in tax law because her husband told her to. If that doesn't make your skin crawl away, you probably aren't the intended audience for this blog. Don't come here looking for a help-meet, 'cause there ain't one at home.
So who is the counter-model? It's hard to say. Staying in the political realm for a moment, the Obamas seem to have a happy marriage, but I would not be content with ultra-feminine role that I perceive the First Lady to be fulfilling currently. These days I admire no one so much as Hillary Clinton, but the Clinton marriage hasn't been a picnic. Their love might well be genuinely unique, in a way that only the love of two first world leaders could be...but a marriage of two Alphas? Not for me. On an intense day I'm what you'd call an "A minus" personality -- and that's after three cups of coffee. My husband-elect identifies as an "alpha geek," exerting dominance over a small subsection of the population and nowhere else.
So I search, and read, and listen. This is as much of an introductory post or a mission statement as I can provide. After all, if I had the answers, I wouldn't be blogging.
What I need is to be able to read and talk about things that speak to our ultimate goal: A wifeless marriage.
Historically, wives only exist as subordinate to husbands. That's pretty much over, as far as secular society goes. (You can have your own checking account, ladies! Woohoo!) That being said, the tradition lives on in a thousand little ways. For me, a part of getting married is disowning that history. It's not as simple as it sounds.
There are conservative Christian resources all over the web which teach how to embrace that history. Hell, a prominent Republican presidential candidate boasts about how she's a "submissive wife" and only got her degree in tax law because her husband told her to. If that doesn't make your skin crawl away, you probably aren't the intended audience for this blog. Don't come here looking for a help-meet, 'cause there ain't one at home.
So who is the counter-model? It's hard to say. Staying in the political realm for a moment, the Obamas seem to have a happy marriage, but I would not be content with ultra-feminine role that I perceive the First Lady to be fulfilling currently. These days I admire no one so much as Hillary Clinton, but the Clinton marriage hasn't been a picnic. Their love might well be genuinely unique, in a way that only the love of two first world leaders could be...but a marriage of two Alphas? Not for me. On an intense day I'm what you'd call an "A minus" personality -- and that's after three cups of coffee. My husband-elect identifies as an "alpha geek," exerting dominance over a small subsection of the population and nowhere else.
So I search, and read, and listen. This is as much of an introductory post or a mission statement as I can provide. After all, if I had the answers, I wouldn't be blogging.
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