Wedding Rings
It seems strange to me that the smallest thoughts can have such weight and importance to them. They pass quickly, but leave a footprint in your thoughts. You dismiss them, and they come back in your dreams. This keeps coming back in my dreams, but the origin actually happened at work.
I attended a meeting a week or so ago. We were sitting around a table talking about a problem we were trying to address. At some point I looked over at the left hand of a man attending the meeting. His hand was on the table, and clearly visible was his wedding ring. I briefly looked down at my notes, and my eyes moved over to my left hand, to view my wedding ring.
I lamented for a moment as I thought to myself, “His wedding ring is real. Mine is fake.” Of course, they are both solid, so they both physically exist. But perhaps what doesn’t exist for one of them is the most important. They are both gold, but they are symbolically very different. After all, gold is just gold. But the symbol of what something stands for surely outweighs anything monetary. There is no symbolism to my wedding ring, because our wedding never existed. Our rings are just what they are; gold. Nothing more.
Years ago, before the concept of marriage for gay couples happened, Kent and I went to Jolino Jewelers in San Francisco to pick out wedding rings. This was a courageous move on our part. We wanted to somehow show that we had a bond and we wanted to wear the symbolism of that bond on our hands. I don’t think either one of us realized how radical this was for a gay couple at the time. It just seemed logical to us.
We entered the jewelers, who was at the time in the Mission District in San Francisco. In those days, gay bashings were very frequent. They happened daily. I would hear of them, and occasionally, I would be helping a friend recover from what happened to him. We didn’t live far from The Castro, the gay neighborhood in San Francisco. But, we lived right on the edge of The Castro. One street over was the Mission District, and in those days, it was made up of a mostly Latino population. And, it was quite homophobic. To venture into this neighborhood was downright dangerous for gay people, and people in The Castro were warning gays not to venture into this neighborhood. But I felt we could do it because it was only a few blocks from our home. Those were the longest blocks I’ve ever walked in my life.
When we entered the store, we started looking at wedding bands. This young woman tried to help us, and even though she spoke English quite well, she could not understand what we wanted. She kept showing us wedding bands in male/female sets. I repeatedly tried to tell her that we wanted to buy two wedding bands for two men. She never got it. Fortunately, the manager overheard our conversation with her, and asked to take over. He understood what we wanted. It was uncomfortable. People were looking at us like we were aliens from another planet. It was the kind of awkwardness that comes from understanding that the manager was helping us because he wanted the sale, and was willing to overlook the fact that he was making the sale to what he would consider to be two perverts. The look on his face said it all. We of course were tense. We ordered the rings and left. He was clear that when we came in to pick them up, we were to talk to him and no one else. He did not want a scene.
This was the circumstance that we purchased our wedding rings. Not with celebration of joy, but with fear, shame, and a considerable amount of judgment being thrown at us.
When the rings came in, I stopped by to pick them up. I took them home, and we put them on. To me, they are a symbol of our love to each other. To my friends in the gay community, they simply did not get it. They felt that we were trying to be part of the straight community; a community that made no bones about hating us. That was the reality then. We were told that “marriage” did not exist for “people like us”. Still, we were unswayed by this.
We kept the rings on.
And later, our families made mention of the fact that we were wearing wedding bands for heavens’ sake, as if we were making a mockery of marriage and should be ashamed of ourselves. These accusations went unanswered by us.
We kept the rings on.
The rings were purchased in 1982. Kent and I have considered ourselves married since our days in college, from 1976 onward. We never had a wedding because weddings aren’t for “people like us.” We never told friends in college we were together because of fear. We had a fear of losing our friends, and we had a fear of violence. We were after all, still in Idaho. We were living in dorms on campus. And if this were happening today in Idaho, it’s not clear we could be honest and open with friends. We never had a wedding. We never had our joyous day. We never had a honeymoon. We never received gifts to help us get started in our life together. We had shame, contempt, and anger in it’s place.
We kept the rings on.
They are still on today. So when I looked down at the ring on my left hand in the conference room at work, I know I don’t have anything from society standing behind that ring. I know it has no symbolism. But it is my ring. It means nothing to anyone else but us. But, if nothing else, it has behind it, integrity. We have never once apologized for wearing the rings. We have never once apologized for what we have together.
And I’m left wondering how many straight couples, who take the task of buying wedding rings as one more part of the “getting married” thing, will ever have what we have. What their rings symbolize has the backing of the state, the nation, and the church. But did they ever consider that the simple act of buying a wedding ring could be an act that could end their life? If they knew that, would they risk it? For them, is buying wedding rings just one more task that has to be done as an after thought of “getting married”?
Then the question is asked, “Bill, what do you think about this?” I come out of my dream state and realize that I’ve relived half a lifetime of my reality in the last few seconds. And, I realize that my reality just simply can not be understood by the straight man sitting next to me with his lovely wedding band on his left hand.
I answer, “Could you please repeat the question?”
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Jeff, thank you for your very kinds words of encouragement.
I don't speak of these thoughts to sadden people. My only interest is to acknowledge that I have had these thoughts, and that this happened to me last week at work. It is therefore a part of my life.
Part of those thoughts are, on their face, sad. But, I've honestly moved beyond where I was a year ago with the "gay marriage" issue. I've had to make some very difficult choices about this issue and how it effects my life. The fact is, I'm not 20 years old anymore. I'm not a gay activist by the standards I was then. If I were, I would have gone to the state capital last Friday where they were debating the gay marriage issue, listened to all the awful things religious people were saying about us, and confronted them with the issues.
I don't have that kind of emotional energy any more. I realized this two years ago when I went to those hearings and listened to one of the conservative legislators who was struggling with the idea of allowing civil unions (marriage was out of the question for him). I followed him out of the room to talk with him. In my 20's, I would have been solid and absolutely clear on every point I wanted to make with him. Now, today, half way through talking to him, I started crying. I held onto this pillar for support. He stepped up to me, put his hand on my shoulder and came close. He looked me right in the eye and said, "This is very difficult for you, isn't it." I said crying, "It is my life you are talking about." He said, "I understand. I'm struggling with this." He ended up voting for civil unions, against his religious beliefs.
That was a tough day for me. So this year, the civil union bill is being debated again. They argument is whether Connecticut will allow gay couples to be married, and actually call it a "marriage". I just couldn't put myself through that again. So, I worked.
I've come to realize that I will never see marriage -- not the way heterosexuals see it. Today, we could have a civil union in Connecticut, but what would that gain us? Perhaps a few rights that may not be an issue for us, but when we leave the State of Connecticut, all of that goes away. Maybe in a few years, Connecticut will have full marriage, but then again, the federal government will not recognize it. The federal government still doesn't recognize the marriages afforded to gay couples in Massachusetts, so neither would a full marriage in Connecticut be honored. People like Dick Cheney love to say that the states should each decide this issue, knowing full well that the really big ticket items that effect people like Kent and myself are well beyond our reach. And, what is outside of Dick Cheney's reach is the fact that Kent and I consider ourselves spiritually married.
So why did I move on from marriage? Do I still consider it terrible that which ever one of us survives will never see Social Security survivor benefits, or that the survivor will have to cough up a huge estate tax because we aren't recognized as spouses? Well, yes, I do think that is terrible. But, you can go on letting this kind of stuff eat you alive, right up to the point that you forget to enjoy life. And that I'm not willing to do.
My main concern for my country is that it has lost it's sense of compassion and fairness. This really has little to do with gay people and gay couples. It has to do with the notion that a specific group of people can be targeted for any kind of scrutiny. That can come in the form of legislation against that group via the ballot box, or by a legislature (such as all the state gay marriage amendments that have already passed). And if that can happen, which group is next? Will it be Mexicans, or Muslims? It's up for grabs. Gay people have been used as political pawns in this whole "save marriage" scheme, all the while the divorce rate stays the same, with no mention about how to deal with that. To me, this makes the argument of "saving marriage" a very disingenuous one. It simply reduces it to gay bashing. And that apparently, is just fine with the American people. The American People did after all speak loud and clear at the ballot box to effectively castrate my community from access to equality.
So, my concern is now with the humanity that my fellow citizens will have. That is not my fight. It is something that they will have too look inwards to figure out. It doesn't look promising.
As for me, I occasionally will share a thought about what goes through my mind, as I did in this article. But unlike a year ago, I no longer care so much. I've resigned myself to second-class status. I'm ok with that, as long as I have access to my family, and we have happy times and health ahead of us. If anything unfortunate happens, and we are unable to care for each other for legal reasons because we are seen as legal strangers, I guess I will deal with that when the time comes the best way I can. But I no longer can let that run my life. I'm happy. I want to stay that way.
Things will change when people want that change to happen. As Mahatma Gandhi stated, "You must be the change you wish to see in the world." But before that change can happen, people have to want that change. They have to care about equality, fairness, and basic human dignity more than they care about themselves, and their own petty prejudices.
When I read posts like this one on your site, Bill, am overcome with feelings of profound sadness. I am saddened because over the past few years you and I have become friends, and that a friend of mine, or anyone else for that matter, should suffer through feelings of shame, contempt, or any other dark emotion simply because of a love they hold for another human being, is horrifying to me.
On the other hand, I also am filled with joy for you because nothing makes me happier than to see a friend of mine overcome such seemingly hopeless situations. Together, you and Kent have triumphed over the hatred, bigotry, and discrimination society tries to batter you with everyday of your lives. Even though there are laws still in effect today that discriminate against the people of your community, you have triumphed over that society by proclaiming your love for one another anyway, and by standing by each other, no matter what.
I have said before that I envy the relationship that you and Kent share. I have only witnessed a very small number of couples that are as devoted to each other, and who love each other as much as you two. It is clear you and Kent have something very special, and it is something most people can only hope to achieve in their lifetime.
I wish everyone could enjoy the sort of relationship you two share, no matter what gender they are. Perhaps if that was the case, no one would care who loved who, or if a man choses a man for his life partner, or a woman choses a woman as a life partner.
I know you have suffered all of your life for who you are, Bill, but in a lot of ways, you are a much better person than most people on this planet. Perhaps one reason you are, is because you are gay. It has given you a perspective straight people will never experience, a perspective you have used to your benefit.
I admire you more than you know. And I am proud to call you my friend.