Meandering thoughts on the SCOTUS cases

The two of us with our canine friend, Bert, who was
wriggling at that moment, in 2002 in Missouri.

I've listened to the Supreme Court oral arguments in Hollingsworth v Perry (the Prop 8 case) and U.S. v Windsor (the DOMA case) this week. There are moments of joy and relief in them, but especially in the Prop 8 case, there are plenty of moments that are hard to listen to. Sometimes I want to say to the justices and the attorneys, "You do realize we can hear you, right?" We being the "homosexuals" whose fair treatment may or may not bring about the downfall of civilization. As if we aren't part of civilization. As if we haven't already formed lasting, committed relationships that benefit all of society. As if recognizing those relationships would cause straight men to beget more children out of wedlock. The tortured logic would be hilarious if it weren't at our expense.

Yes, we've made tremendous progress. A few months after Sandy and I got together, Congress passed the Defense of Marriage Act, fearful that Hawaii might recognize same-sex couples' humanity. Even though, at the time, we didn't personally want to marry, DOMA was a slap in the face. The federal government was so threatened by our relationship that they declare that they would never recognize it. It's hard not to take that personally.

While Congress was all in a dither over Hawaii's Supreme Court's action, most of my straight friends and family had no idea the DOMA debate was going on. It felt like the LGBT community was very much on our own.

If you've never been part of a hated minority, it can be difficult to understand what it's like. We have Pride parades specifically because so many of us have been taught to be ashamed of who we are. That's changing for younger folks, thank goodness. But Sandy felt a deep shame from early childhood, when she first started to have what she referred to on her death bed as "gay thoughts." As an adult, she was out and proud in some contexts and apologetic about her sexuality in others. It's a common ambivalence. For most LGBT people, coming out to ourselves is challenging, and then coming out to each group of people in our lives brings its own stresses. We fear judgment. We fear rejection. Underlying all of it, frankly, we fear violence.

As our struggle for equality has progressed, we've gained amazing straight allies. Indeed, I felt a flush of gratitude when I saw how many of my non-LGBT friends and family members had posted in support of marriage equality this week, in anticipation of the Supreme Court oral arguments. I desperately want Sandy to be here, to enjoy the feeling that so many people have our backs.

But mostly, I want to reach out and touch her, to have the physical reminder that this relationship is valid, strong, right. That our love is no threat. 

The rhetoric is a little less hateful than it used to be. And for an entire generation, same-sex marriage is no big deal and anti-discrimination laws that protect LGBT people are a no-brainer. But the Supreme Court is afraid of removing discrimination too quickly. They're asked to determine whether a ban on same-sex marriage is constitutional, but they're more concerned with deciding whether the timing is right. It's always the right time to do the right thing. How many people have to die while they wait for the right to marry the person they love? I'm bitter that I became a widow before I was legally married; it's supposed to be the other way around.

On the other hand, it's kind of sweet to be in a position where one of the primary arguments against declaring DOMA unconstitutional is essentially that it will probably be repealed by Congress in the near future anyway. I understand that Clement was mainly asserting that the LGBT community has political power and so the case should not be afforded heightened scrutiny, but I enjoyed listening to the argument all the same.

It's weird to have a personal stake in these cases, and yet have that personal stake be less immediate than it should be. If Sandy were here alive with me, we'd be married under Washington law, and we'd be excited by the possibility that we might finally attain the federal rights and responsibilities of marriage this summer. Instead, I know that our marriage will be recognized on June 30, 2014, and that at some point in the future, federal recognition will go into effect, likely long before I need to make decisions about whether to access Sandy's Social Security benefits, as her widow, instead of my own.

There are many people I can talk to about the court cases, but there's only one person who understands exactly the mish-mash of emotions I feel when I listen to the arguments and read the analysis, and she died 20 months ago.