As per California law, we were stationed 100 feet away from the polling location.
It was November 4, 2008, and I was still nervous talking to strangers about gay marriage. The polls would close soon, and I approached a final stranger hurrying across the parking lot toward the library. I recited my quick, Oliver!-esque “please, sir, would you vote no on Prop. 8?” She screamed back, “Who the fuck do you think I am?” I rejoined our small group and saw our teacher supervisor half laughing, half shocked: the stranger was Courtney Love.
I have thought about marriage a lot since volunteering on my first political campaign. I was in the closet then and had previously thought marriage was an impossibility. This campaign inspired me to think differently, that California voters would think differently. They did not. Barack Obama was elected, and “marriage exists only between a man and a woman” was enshrined in California law. I cried at school the next day. When I went to college a year later and joined the student queer club, I thought gay marriage would be an important political touchstone for the group. In fact, it was the opposite.
I was told gay marriage was assimilationist, that fighting for money and jobs and housing and rights for queer homeless youth was more in line with the group’s mission. That gay marriage was a perfect cause for those in power to convince us to pour money and attention into, and that it would distract us from the real problems. (When I read Alison Bechdel’s Dykes to Watch Out For years later, I would see that same argument peddled by an exhausted Mo.)
I didn’t know what to think. I wanted to fit in, I wanted to be out, I wanted to be an activist. I don’t remember exactly how or what led me to my current thinking around marriage, but I am sure that Courtney Love and the student queer group played important roles.
I don’t want marriage for me. At least, that’s what I think now. I am open to change. I understand couples who marry because they want kids, and it is easier when you are married. I don’t want kids. I understand couples who marry because of citizenship or because of medical necessity. My partner and I don’t fit into those categories, at least not now. I’m an extrovert who loves parties, open bars, and wireless microphones, but I don’t have plans for a reception-like party to celebrate my romantic partnership.
Oh, I love attending weddings. Yes, yes. Flirting with a bridesmaid is like a Top 10 activity for me. But marriage does not fit snugly into my personal definition of queerness. My queerness is more of a political position, against assimilation and with the real needs of the community at the forefront.
Which is why I have been meditating extra hard on marriage since my close friends C. and Y. asked me to officiate their wedding this summer.
I said yes immediately, of course. I love them both very much. We have a group friendship and individual friendships with each other. C. and I became friends in a Western Music History class in 2011, and I met Y. in 2018 shortly after the two of them started dating. They are both bisexual — like very, very bisexual — and the fact that they are a cis male/female couple does not make their relationship any less queer to me.
When they told me they were engaged, I asked why. And then, what does marriage mean to you?
I know they might eventually have kids, but because they will be able to have kids very likely without donors, surrogates, or IVF, the state will see each of them as rightful parents implicitly. They both have health insurance, neither of them has terminal illness, and they are both US citizens. They answered with still-unfolding reasoning, the essence of which boils down to family culture. Y.’s family will see the seriousness and committedness of the relationship only through marriage, and they want their families to respect and accept their partnership as long-term and serious. That and the fact that C. and Y. have no qualms about marriage. They love each other, love parties, and care deeply about the happiness of their family and friends.
Nine months later, they asked me to officiate. We are now a month away from the Big Day, and I’m starting to write out the ceremony. We haven’t yet met to talk through what they want in a ceremony and what my joke-to-sincere-statement limit will be. So all of these memories and politics are rushing into my head as I work out what marriage means to me before I get to know more about what marriage means to them.
I know I will talk about my friends B. and Z. who were married two years ago in Northern California. It was in one of those just-small-enough towns that the hosts graciously put together a packed weekend of wedding events. We were destined to become close with multitudes of strangers between the welcome cocktail party, ceremony and reception, beach day on the river, goodbye barbecue, and run-ins around town. But before any of that could begin, a harrowingly tragedy happened days before the Big Weekend, and it was unclear if the couple would even go through with the wedding. Z.’s closest friend and her friend’s mother were killed.
I heard about the tragedy in the days leading up to the wedding and it seemed like an impossible decision for Z. to continue with the celebrations or cancel everything. If you’ve ever experienced intense grief you might understand the cloud of absolute fogginess and horror that follows the death of a loved one. I cannot imagine what Z. was going through in the lead up to what was supposed to be a joyous celebration of love and commitment. When I arrived at the opening reception, there was a beautiful and intentional memorial table full of pictures and candles of Z.’s friend and friend’s mom. I was able to learn a bit more about the two of them and how they impacted Z.’s life, something that I’m still learning to this day. The couple talked about the two of them, and it was clear how present their memories were at the wedding events.
A main tenant of marriage seemed so concrete to me then and there: It is our community who keeps us together, who witnesses us in deep sorrow and deep joy, who holds us accountable to our values. B. and Z. included a Community Vow section at the ceremony where the wedding guests vowed to be there for the couple in their need. I had never heard of Community Vows before, and it all made perfect sense in the queerest way. We are here to protect each other, to fight for each other, to see each other. Not to send this couple off into blissful and detached domesticity, but to call this couple even deeper into the arms of the community that loves and supports them. Marriage is a multi-directional commitment.
When I think about C. and Y.’s impending ceremony, I think about the community that will be there to welcome them and hold them and lift them up in love and support. That’s the tone I’ll take while writing the ceremony and officiating the wedding. That…and omg, I hope there will be bridesmaids to flirt with!
What is it about bridesmaids that make us flirty? 🤔🙇♀️
Seriously is ur gf ok w u flirting on a bridesmaid like u look like tens? 👀
Hahaha yes yes, we are in an open relationship and it’s very communicative and supportive!! :)
That’s awful
Holy pretentious, Batman.
Feel free to have a conventional opinion about something. No one will think any less of you.
There’s still hope for them, one of them might come out as trans 😜
This is a lovely reflection.
yes, so true!!
thank you:)
I’m honestly not sure why you would even want to officiate a wedding, given that you have such a low opinion of marriage. Even though your friends provided meaningful reasons, you don’t seem to truly understand them. The only reasons that seem to matter to you are the practical reasons you listed.
I find the assimilation perspective to be insulting and boring, and I encourage you to rethink your stance. Romantic commitment ceremonies have always been a huge part of humanity’s history regardless of orientation, and it is deeply meaningful to many queer people that we can now legally marry in the US.
Imagine reading Dykes to Watch Out For and missing the commitment ceremonies & weddings & gay divorces the characters who aren’t Mo have.
Just because marriage isn’t right for you (and Mo, who is frequently wrong) doesn’t mean it’s not right for everyone.
Wasn’t Mo also the one who was conservative and couldn’t get laid at That college party
@ Maev, “Wasn’t Mo also the one who was conservative and couldn’t get laid at That college party“ – I am not sure I understand your point. So what if a person cannot get laid on a college party? Mo is also a person who opposes the war in Iraq (the first one). None of the characters are just sympathetic and cool, and that is the point. Many are frequently wrong about many issues. And regarding conservativism – a number of characters in “Dykes to Watch Out For” are or become conservative, including Toni and Clarice, the couple who gets married and later separates.
Exactly. They should update us if they get cucked
I’m very excited to officiate, very happy for my friends, and happy for anyone who wants to get married!
I shared the essay with all of my friends I mention in the piece before it was published, and they all approved and appreciated my reflections.
tldr: yay marriage for anyone that wants to get married! and yay marriage equality! these are just my reflections and feelings that I’ve grappled with over time. And in regards to my personal desire to marry or not, as I wrote in the essay above, “I don’t want marriage for me. At least, that’s what I think now. I am open to change.” I am an ever-changing person and my views and opinions on so many things have changed over time and I know will continue to change.
ty for reading and reflecting!
“My queerness is more of a political position, against assimilation and with the real needs of the community at the forefront.”
The fact that you identify queer marriage with assimilation says a lot. It implies that you see marriage as a static concept. The understanding of marriage has constantly changed over the last few decades. It is a process and many actors are involved in this process. The assimilation argument seems to me to be a “us against the them” view of the world. I see the right to marriage for queer people as process of inclusion rather than an assimilation. Because queer marriage itself changes the understanding of marriage.
ty for reading and reflecting! my thoughts and opinions have changed a lot over time and I’m glad that they will continue to change and evolve through time, listening, and learning. “Because queer marriage itself changes the understanding of marriage.” I love that…definitely has me thinking!
very happy for ppl who want to get married and who can get married!
If commenters here are so critical of a writer who expresses something that is not just love for gay marriage, then I can only imagine how the reactions might be for Yasmin Nair’s stance on gay marriage as a conservative institution – she connects it with classism, the (non-)access to health insurance, and more:
https://yasminnair.com/gay-marriage-hurts-my-breasts/
By the way, the hate that Nair received from queer people for her views (including racism) is not less threatening than the hate from people who launch threats against queers:
https://yasminnair.com/gay-marriage-ruined-everything/#more-17562
Thank you Rebecca for this great contribution, I really appreciated your article and your complex thoughts and insights.
Thank you for reading and reflecting! I hadn’t known of this author or this piece before, so thank you for sharing.
She has a great perspective and I certainly agree with thesis that the government/society thinks: “You want health care but not marriage or commitment? Tough titties. Get married or die.”
I also really liked this part because it distills how systems like government/healthcare/discrimination are so large that ppl place blame on individuals, even though they might understand subconsciously that it’s a macro issue: “The truth is that [the random woman at the party] probably understands that the health care system is broken, but that she also cannot see the profound disconnect in her own words.”
Thanks again for sending!
Rebecca, love your nuanced navigation of your political and personal stance on this matter and your smart elaboration on doing something for your friends who you love and also addressing your ambivalence/critical ideas on gay marriage. On a queer website that has so much on wedding and marriage, this was a refreshing point of view for me, and I would be so so happy to read more from you, or on critical thoughts on gay marriage on AS in general. Thanks for this piece <3
Thank you so much for your comment–I appreciate the kindness. And woo, yay, I hope to continue to write pieces for AS :)
I wrote a piece last summer that you can find here: https://www.autostraddle.com/do-you-have-fire/ (there’s a glitch where it’s not showing up on my author page).