Friday, February 25, 2011
Have. To. Vent.
Just spent a wonderful evening with coworkers from Cincinnati Children's. Four IR docs, one wife. Nice dinner at the oldest establishment in the city.
I share with Neil my experiences at Sewanee; there are many similarities to his university in Melbourne. There are many many people who can't relate to a Sewanee life, but he gets it. He then tells me he got married in the chapel there, with his wife three months pregnant. His choir buddy arranged magnificent music, and he paid the college caterer with a case of wine. He's is a romantic through and through. We are like-minded liberal individuals. It's a sweet story, and his wife is beaming.
John says his wedding was in the chapel of his wife's high school. Perfect picturesque setting.
KK had TWO weddings, one in India and one here in the US. People came in droves from Brazil to see the US version. The photographer screwed up. The DJ was fabulous. People danced all night.
I keep my mouth shut, because what am I supposed to say?
"I fell deeply in love. It was madness. We barely came up for air. We knew from the beginning. We bought rings in the NOLA French Market years before Katrina. One night, we danced in the rain outside our apartment. We sketched our dream house. We had a small ceremony at our house one evening. Her family wasn't invited. It's been 10 years."
This is why marriage matters. Equality means a million little things and lots of big things. It's not JUST because there wasn't a church, or pomp and circumstance, or acceptance. It's not JUST about inheritance tax. It's not JUST what other people think of us. It's all those things put together.
I'm not a hugely outspoken lesbian on a mission. I go about my life and rarely notice the differences. Sometimes I have to remind myself that I'm gay. It's like I totally forget. But this "venting" is more than refraining from whining. It's about the right things to say and do.
Marriage matters. It matters to me and to my family. It shows the world that we matter and that we're just like everyone else. It means I don't have to sit there smiling at dinner, internally considering the latest news from Maryland and Hawaii. It means my kids could be my kids. It means I don't have to consider Dutch citizenship, or a future trip to Iowa, just to get the job done. It means somebody might take a chance on their own honesty one day, knowing that "gay" can be done well.