Our Wedding Day

 February15, 2004

“The nerve of it!” said Don from his Pennsylvania home, as he watched television coverage of same-sex marriages in San Francisco. He’d called to say he’d recognized Leah, my partner—excuse me, wife—of 21 years and myself on CNN. And by nerve, he meant gumption. 

“Your mayor is like the tightrope walker, Phillippe Petite, who walked across a wire strung from the rooftops of New York’s World Trade Center in 1974. Officially, it was illegal, but everyone watching wanted him to succeed.”

Although he lived on the East Coast, Don’s congratulatory call wasn’t unexpected. He’d been our host in 1987 when we attended the second National March on Washington for Lesbian and Gay Rights. We’d even gotten married then. Sort of. One event was a mass wedding in front of the I.R.S. demanding legal recognition and benefits for gay relationships. Although Los Angeles-based Rev. Troy Perry led the crowd of thousands through their marriage vows, in my heart, it was performance art. To say it was anything more than a demonstration was to say one’s vision of marriage was akin to the Moonies.

Don’s phone call was one of the few that fit neatly into my expectations. On the whole, what transpired that Valentine’s Day weekend surprised me.

The sense of astonishment began early Friday morning when our Sebastopol-based friends called. “We’re in line,” they exalted. “We’re gonna get married!” 

“It won’t last the weekend,” we laughed. “The courts are just going to shut it down.” We worried about energy expended on yet another symbolic protest.

Because we’d traveled that road long enough. Or so we thought. Leah and I have registered three times as Domestic Partners, beginning in 1991 when San Francisco—again leading the nation—made this option available (which grants a mere 15 civil rights to same sex couples, as opposed to the 1400 benefits which come with marriage). We’d bought a home together. We’d intertwined our lives with those of our families through the many birthdays, holidays, bar mitzvahs, and funerals that have taken place in two decades. As our ten-year-old niece said, “aren’t Barb and Leah married already?”

The truth? As I was to learn, the answer was both yes and no.

On the Sunday after Valentine’s Day, we drove to San Francisco’s City Hall for reasons both historical and practical. At stake was an official legal document recognizing our union. After waiting many hours, a deputy commissioner conducted a private ceremony under the beaux-arts rotunda. Until that moment, we hadn’t realized that the experience of exchanging rings and vows would be so moving and tender. 

Standing, as my older sister and cousins had stood, under a hoopah (a wedding canopy used in Jewish ritual) made Leah and I both cry. Hearing the words, “with the authority vested in me by the State of California, I now declare you spouses for life” delivered the shock of what psychoanalyst Fritz Perls termed “a gestalt.” And this was echoed by some many of the couples we spoke to: What originally appeared to be a political act became touchingly personal. They felt different.

Then came the reactions. 

The telephone rang with gushing congratulations from relatives and our heterosexual friends in Columbus, Ohio; Washington, DC; Chicago, Ill. We received emails from Vienna. The voice of Jane, my Denver-based sister, trembled with emotion. “I’m so happy for you.” She put the phone down for a moment, briefly overcome. “Are you going to change your last names?” she resumed. (No.) “Well, are you going to get registered? Are you going to send out announcements?” (Maybe.) “Well,” she urged, the shutters of her heart sprung wide open, “you should!”

Where in the world did this come from? In twenty-one years, my sister—who loves Leah and has told her so--has never showered me with such excitement and praise as she did in this phone call.

I believe the ritual of marriage itself gave her permission to celebrate us in a way she never has before. The ritual of marriage transformed the act of 6000 people showing up in City Hall from one of civil disobedience to an outpouring of joy. This ritual changed how I communicated the news to friends and family. For I never took it upon myself to notify anyone that Leah and I had some documents for Domestic Partnership stamped by a notary public as we sipped our lattes down at the Java Hut. 

Something about the ritual of marriage has inspired people from all over this polarized, divided country to root for us. And they were rooting not only for same-sex weddings but also for San Francisco. For its leadership. For the nerve of it. 

The story here is not just the gays and lesbians who finally tied the knot. It’s about the great number of volunteers who showed up and worked for free. It’s about the heterosexual friends from across the country who felt compelled to send wedding presents, cards, and flowers. It’s about the husbands in that group who once said they weren’t “for” gay marriage but got on the phone and gave us their warmest regards.

A friend in Santa Monica left this message on our answering machine: “I don’t know why I’m feeling so emotional. I guess I’m happy to be alive during this time. If this could happen, it means a lot of positive changes could happen.”

As time goes by, poll numbers and politics will dominate this story. But poll numbers will never reveal the ability of ritual to suddenly transform a person’s feelings. Rituals have a way of undermining abstractions. They tap into our deepest feelings of joy, pity, sadness or laughter and move us to release and catharsis.

And marriage is a ritual everyone understands. When 3000 couples got married in February, the wider net of our families and community knew what to do. They laughed. They cried. And they sent their heartfelt congratulations. Not tepidly, but with exuberance.
 
 
 

Senator Dianne Feinstein
331 Hart Senate Office Building
Washington, D.C.  20510-0504

If I could get right to the point, please, please, please change your stance, your opinion, and your public comments about the gay marriages that are happening here in San Francisco.  Now, more than ever, we need your support and leadership.

Eleven days, on Friday, February 13^th, at 9:20 in the morning, my partner of 8 1/2 years, Brad Akin, and I were married in San Francisco City Hall.  Our 13-year-old daughter, Alex, was at school and did not attend the wedding.  Why wasn’t she at one of the most important events in the lives of her two dads?  She wasn’t there because her dads were afraid that there would be a court injunction, lawyers and policemen, trying to prevent them from being married.   Her dads were afraid that there would be religious zealots and homophobic bigots shouting and screaming at them, trying to prevent them from being married.  Her dads were afraid that there would be a media circus, with more cameras than couples, and that as a beautiful and articulate young woman, she would be a target of that media circus.

On the day of your wedding, did you have to worry that someone was going to try to stop you?  Was there anyone that you kept away from your wedding, Senator Feinstein, because you were afraid for their safety and well-being?   If not, then we are separate and not equal.

I understand that you may not agree with what Mayor Newsom did and how he did it, but now that he has done it, you must support and encourage him.   I saw you on the news this morning, saying that what the Mayor did has resulted in President Bush’s support of a constitutional amendment.   I think you have the order wrong - it was President Bush’s support of a constitutional amendment, support he spoke about in his State of the Union address, that resulted in Mayor Newsom’s action.   The constitutional amendment plan of action was already there - what Mayor Newsom did was bring it out into the open, so that everyone could see it.   Now is when you need to stop pointing fingers at what he did, and start saying to your constituents and your colleagues that you support equal rights for everyone.

Like Representative Barney Frank, you’ve said that now isn’t really the right time.   As your friend, former Mayor Willie Brown, said on television this week, “there is never a right time”.  If Rosa Parks had waited in the back of that bus until the time was right, African Americans might still be riding in the back of that bus.  And whether the time was right or not is no longer the issue - he did it, and it’s time to seize that opportunity and make the most of it.  Mayor Newsom opened the door for us, and we’ve run through it.  Do not try to shove us back through that door to wait for permission for it to be opened for us.   Reach through and grab the hands of as many people as you can and get them through that door, and together, tear that door off its hinges so that everyone has access to the same rights.

Because, Senator Feinstein, it is easy for you to tell me to wait for the right to be married because you are married.   You are in the club.   It’s easy to say “Just wait, we’ll let you in eventually,” because you’re already enjoying those benefits.   How long are we supposed to stand at the window, looking in?   What’s the appropriate amount of time that we should wait?  Can’t you see the intrinsic inequality of this issue?

Please reconsider your stance on gay marriage.   I’m sorry it’s becoming a “wedge” issue in the upcoming campaign, but if George W. Bush wins again in November (heaven forbid), it won’t be because I’m married, I know that for sure.

And finally, Senator Feinstein, a question about your honeymoon.   Did you have to spend it checking the news every few hours to find out if you were still married?  Did you have to spend it writing letters to your Senators, your Representatives, your Governor, your Attorney General, begging them to please help you remain married?  Did the President of the United States declare war on you and your husband?  If not, then we are still separate, and we are not equal.

I know I’m not quoting it exactly, but isn’t it said “For evil to triumph, all it takes is for good people to do nothing”?  Please do something, Senator Feinstein, please join me, my husband, our daughter and the thousands of other families who want nothing more than to have their love and commitment legally recognized.

Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,
Paul Hill