Legal In All 50 States

Last month, I had the great honor to preside at the wedding of a friend. It was a beautiful event from start to finish, and I was so pleased to be a part of it.
When the Divine K asked me to officiate, I wasn't sure if I could; after all, I am not a minister, and I was pretty sure I needed some kind of license. Divine K assured me that they would pay all costs for me to become "official", but it turns out the license is free at the Universal Life Church website. A couple of clicks, and I was ordained and able to perform everything but circumcisions (let me tell you, that was a relief). The Divine K and her husband-to-be wrote their own vows, so all I had to do was follow the script and add a few words of my own. Coming up with those few words of my own proved to be a daunting task, as the vows written by the couple were as perfect as I have ever read, and left me very little to say. I work better under pressure, so the morning of the wedding, I sat down and wrote something from notes I had collected, and I think they liked it.
The whole process of being an officiant, and presiding over a wedding, provided me with a great deal to ponder. I think it was after I signed all the official papers that it really hit me--I am allowed to officiate at a wedding, but am not allowed to marry the one I love. Let me repeat--I am considered a fine, upstanding citizen, responsible enough to marry a couple, but in the eyes of the State of Indiana, it's heinous to think that I would want to marry, that I would want all the rights and privileges of marriage.
27 1/2 years ago, I got married. I loved someone, thought I would spend the rest of my life with him, so the next logical step was to get married. I didn't stop to think about how the legal bond of marriage would benefit me, but I did know that if we were married, we could move into Married Student Housing (which was a pretty nice place to live). Plus our parents would be happier than if we were "living in sin". The day after the wedding, I didn't feel any more secure than the day before the wedding, and I certainly didn't stop to think that, if something should happen to him, I could make medical decisions for him, because we were hitched. And why would I? I was 21 years old; I took for granted that people fell in love and then, of course, got married and lived happily ever after. Yes, I was naive--incredibly naive.
Fast-forward to 3 years ago. I was divorced and taking a good, long look at my life. I met Karen, and all of a sudden, a multitude of things began to make sense to me. For the first time ever, I felt comfortable in my skin; that's the only, simple way to describe it--most of what I was feeling, so very powerful, is beyond words.
Then, I fell in love with her.
I never considered hiding my relationship with her. It was not a courageous decision; I have reached the point in my life where I am who I am. That's not to say I didn't agonize about telling my kids, my family, and my friends. It's the hardest thing I have ever done, but what was even harder were those days and weeks when I didn't tell them about Karen and I; I was so happy, and yet so miserable. Thankfully, everyone has been so supportive and so loving (thank you from the bottom of my heart, everyone); I am blessed.
Now I want to marry her. But I'm not allowed. Yes, we could get married in our church; the Unitarian Universalist Church is one of the few to do commitment ceremonies for same-sex couples. I'm sure we could have a beautiful ceremony, and be surrounded by the people we love. We could declare our love for one another, and make a commitment to love each other all the days of our lives; this would be witnessed by our loved ones, and would be very special indeed.
But it wouldn't count for anything.
Because the very next day, we would wake up and have no more rights as a gay couple than we did the day before. We are responsible adults, we love our kids, we pay taxes, we keep up our property, we hold down jobs, we contribute to the local economy, we vote. We don't abuse ourselves, each other, or our kids, we don't harrass our neighbors, and we don't steal (or break any of the other 10 Commandments either). But, because we are gay, we cannot legally marry, and over 1138 legal rights enjoyed by hetrosexual couples are denied to us.
It's not just about tax benefits either. If Karen or I gets sick, the other person is not automatically allowed to make medical decisions on their behalf. In some places, we would not even be allowed in to the hospital room because we are not considered "immediate family" (let me tell you, this is what scares me the most; you only have to read about Lisa Marie Pond to know why I'm so worried). Our wills have to explicitly spell out what the other person is entitled to; it's not an automatic thing. I cannot add Karen to my health insurance, nor can she add me to hers. All those things I took for granted 27 1/2 years ago are all denied to me now. And yet my love for Karen is no different than the love Divine K feels for her husband. Or the love any of you feel for your spouse.
This is why all of us should fight against any of the amendments proposed to any state or federal constitution, declaring marriage to be between one man and one woman. Keep religion out of it; marriage in any state now is a legal arrangement, whereby the couple might arrange for a religious group to bless that legal document. All I'm proposing is, if your church doesn't want to bless a gay marriage arrangement, it doesn't have to, but the state should recognize it just the same: as a legal arrangement. The amendments that have been proposed to state constitutions would, in most cases, be the first time that state has written discrimination INTO that document. And that's just wrong.
Divine K, I wish you and your spouse every happiness in the world. Never take your love for granted, and never take your rights for granted. Amen.