by Bryn Douglas Marlow
The minister signed our marriage
certificate with a flourish, then said, “One of you needs to sign here as
‘husband’ and one over here as ‘wife.’” It was 2005. Dave and I were wed in
Canada on our ninth anniversary as a couple, soon after Ontario legalized
same-sex marriage—so soon that gender-neutral forms were not yet available.
When we returned to the U.S. our
marital status lodged in the Twilight Zone. It’s still there. We believe we’re
married. A whole vast country north of us believes we’re married. But what
happens in Canada stays in Canada. According to those with saying power, Dave
is married to nobody. Guess what that makes me.
Being nobody wears on a person.
Researchers have long documented the negative effects of the stigma of
homosexuality on gay people. Recent studies show that residing in a U.S. state
that outlaws same-sex marriage has a direct, adverse effect on the mental
health of lesbians and gay men.
It makes me sick to live in Indiana
in a marital state of perpetual confusion. Here’s my marital history: Not
married, 23 years. Married, 14 years. Not married, seven years. Married, but
not according to my state or federal government, nine years. Married and
recognized as such by the state, 36 hours. Back to married-but-not-married, two
months, followed by 10 days of being married. Then back to yes-but-no, then
over to yes-but-not-really, not until the Supreme Court says it’s okay. (Did
you follow that?)
In June a federal judge ruled
Indiana’s same-sex marriage ban unconstitutional. As gay couples lined up to
obtain marriage licenses, Dave and I marveled. We could sip coffee at our own
kitchen table as a bona fide married couple. For all of three days. The court
ruling was stayed, pending appeal. For us, it was back to life in limbo.
Our summer vacation offered a breath
of fresh air. We spent 10 consecutive days touring several states and two
provinces where marriage equality is the law of the land. “This is the longest
we’ve been married since we got hitched,” Dave said.
Toward the end of our trip we
visited Niagara Falls, took in the view from the Canadian side, along with a
thousand or more other spectators. So much water rushing over the brink made me
have to pee. When I returned from the restroom I soon spotted Dave among the
crowd. It’s not all that difficult to recognize someone you care about.
At the same time it’s easy to
dismiss those you refuse to see. Experience has taught me this. My three
children have severed contact with me over my having come out gay. As has my
brother. As have former friends and fellow church members. No place at the
table for the likes of me.
Where am I welcome? Life keeps me
guessing. This past weekend I attended a college class reunion. I almost didn’t
show up. I often encounter judgment and rejection from people who knew me
before I came out of the closet. I feared more of the same should my classmates
learn I am gay. I tested the waters. The first time a fellow alumnus asked
about my spouse, I mentioned Dave by name. I was peppered with questions, taken
to task for believing homosexuality cannot be changed, and charged with a lack
of religious faith. Sheesh. Thereafter I mostly dodged questions about
marriage and family. I avoided some conversations altogether. I shut down, hung
back, withdrew. I was present but not present—off in limbo land again. This is
familiar territory; I check in there frequently to visit my marital status.
As you know, the federal court of
appeals ruled against Indiana’s gay marriage ban. The state has appealed to the
U.S. Supreme Court. But I’ve been thinking: Dave and I could settle the matter
now. As our state government is so antsy about keeping marriage between a
husband and wife, we should send the folks in Indianapolis a copy of our
Canadian marriage license. It’s there in black and white: on March 12, 2005,
Dave took me to be his lawfully wedded wife.
Bryn
Marlow (gayfeather,blogspot.com) writes and raises chickens on a wooded 1930s
farmstead in east central Indiana. His writing has appeared in The Sun, Utne Reader, White Crane Journal,
Flying Island, The Community Letter
and various anthologies.