I do also see good news…

There was good news this week, and, even better for me, it was something I correctly predicted. These days, it’s probablty a good idea for us all to take the wins when we get them.

This week, the US Supreme Court declined to hear an appeal incuding a request to overturn the Court’s 2015 Obergefell v. Hodges ruling that legalised same-gender marriage throughout the USA. This is exactly what I expected to happen. In fact, a couple days or so before the decision to decline the petition was announced, I said this in a Facebook comment to a friend:

As you can probably guess, I’m following this closely, but I doubt this case will succeed. The plaintiff and her case are both deeply flawed and problematic, and the Court has already lost most of its credibility in the eyes of the public because of their idiotic decisions, like the Dobbs case, inventing presidential “immunity” out of nothing, and constantly ruling to help the Republicans’ God-King and others in their party, especially through the slimy Shadow Docket. They won’t want to make yet another idiotic decision that would help Democrats in 2026, and they may be betting that if they lay low now, maybe real elections won’t happen after 2026, and they can then let their christfascism run free. At the very least, with so much disgust with the court right now, they’re most likely to wait for a better case, one with a plaintiff that can be more successfully marketed as a “victim”.

All up, it’s more likely they’ll decline to take the case, without comment, and bide their time.

I elaborated on this in a follow-up comment:

I don’t know if [marriage equality opponents] can get four votes to proceed—not impossible, but unlikely. Barrett has said people’s lives depend on the ruling standing, which, historically, has been a big reason for the Court to avoid overturning a ruling, and even Alito—a stinging critic of Obergefell—has said that, too. Roberts is the one MOST worried about how awfully most Americans see the Court. That leaves only Thomas, Kavanaugh, and Gorsuch to possibly vote to hear the case. But, whatever happens, we’ll probably never know who wanted to hear the case and who didn’t, though we can be sure that at least Thomas will vote to proceed. The other two could well see what a sham this particular case is and wait for a stronger one to use to destroy the human rights of married same-gender couples and LGBTQ+ people in general.

That second comment has the one thing I may have been wrong about: “We can be sure that at least Thomas will vote to proceed”. He may well have wanted to do so, for all we know, but the petition was rejected without dissent, so if Thomas did argue in favour of it, he didn’t officially register that opposition. That aside, it’s probably a good idea to elaborate on what I said. First, the issue wasn’t that Davis personally refused to allow a same-gender couple to legally marry after the Obergefell ruling, it’s that she forbade anyone in the office with complying with the law, and that’s where she crossed the line. She was found personally responsible for denying a gay couple’s right to marry, and that was later increased to $360,000. The original appeal was trying to get her out of having to pay the judgement, but her appeal said the issue was her supposed “religious liberty [sic]” to discriminate against gay couples, and that’s the main angle her petition to the Supreme Court took, and their justification for why the Court should reverse itself.

The professional anti-LGBTQ+ industry pushes supposed religious "liberty” in opposing anything pro-LGBTQ+ in part because those activists know that the far-right Republicans in various courts, including the Supreme Court, will usually back anything that claims to be upholding/promoting religious “liberty”.

Despite many of the Republican Supreme Court judges far-right views on religious “liberty”, they all nevertheless knew that because the case was originally about damages the plaintiff was charged by Kentucky courts, and was basically rebranded as being about religious “liberty”. So, its claim to actually be about religious “liberty” was dubious. This means that even if the far-right Republican majority really does want to overturn Obergefell, this case wasn’t the right case to do that because it would destroy way too much of what little legitimacy the court still has in the public’s eyes, and fall or dubious reasons. However, the professional anti-LGBTQ industry is nothing if not persistent, so if a case comes along that’s “cleaner”, one that doesn’t have a problematic plaintiff or origin, it could give the most hard-right justices an opportunity they may want—but not for at least a couple years.

It’s also worth noting that despite his many (many, many…) failings, the Felon in Chief has never expressed a desire to overturn marriage equality, but he did talk endlessly about overturning Roe v. Wade, appointed Supreme Court justices certain to do that, and then took personal credit for it when they did overturn Roe. The fact that he hasn’t said anything about ending marriage equality suggests he's not interested in it, and that would make it harder—though not impossible—for his vassals in the Republican Party to make that an actual priority, as opposed to just another attack line.

Some folks may point out that the Felon has repeatedly attacked trans people, his vassals have then followed suit, and all have taken concrete action to attack trans people. History shows us that it could merely be their opening act, and an attack on marriage equality is inevitable. Maybe so—but today is not that day, and right now the important thing is to focus on threats on freedom and liberty that are already underway.

Also, it's important to celebrate when there's good news, and the bottom line is that the Supreme Court declining to accept the case without dissent is definitely good news.

Fifteen years later

Today is one of the positive and important anniversaries in my life, and it always has been. Fifteen years ago today, Nigel and I had our civil union ceremony. Last year, I said:

I’ve often said how our Civil Union was, at the time, the happiest day of our lives—until we were married in 2013, and that day became the happiest of our lives. And yet, with everything that’s happened since that 2009 day, it would’ve been easy for this date to become lost. Naturally, I won’t let that happen.

I think that happy times always deserve to be remembered, even if there are terrible times that follow. Those good times aren’t diminished by those later bad times, but maybe the bad ones can, at least for a little while, not seem quite as bad. It works for me, anyway.

The anniversary of our civil union was the final event in my annual “Season of Anniversaries”, and even though I no longer refer to that—the joke doesn’t seem funny to me anymore—the anniversaries within that “season” are still important to me, and I still talk about them. I think that over time I may have new anniversaries that matter to me, too, but even if I don’t, the old ones are there for me. Sometimes that fact is very important.

I ended last year’s post by saying:

So, Happy anniversary to us once again. This anniversary was eclipsed by our marriage, and all of it was eclipsed by Nigel’s death, but it turns out that it was only a partial eclipse. I’m still here, my memories are still here, and our shared history and love are still here. It turns out, that’s plenty reason enough to celebrate.

Indeed. That’s the reason to continue to note the anniversary of a very happy day—even if it was only the second-happiest of my life.

Previously

2009: Perfect Day – where it began
2010: One and Fifteen
2011: Second Anniversary, squared
2012: Three years ago today
2013: Fourth Anniversary
2014: An anniversary
2015: Anniversaries
2016: A seventh Anniversary
2017: Eight years later
2018: Nine years later
2019: Ten years later
There was no post in 2020.
2021: Twelve years later
2022: Thirteen years later
2023: Fourteen years later

The unsupremes ruin everything

Friday evening is normally a relaxing time for me. Sometimes I get together with family for dinner, which is always nice, and then I settle in to watch some TV for the rest of the evening. But this past Friday, as I was beginning to wind down for bed, I got an alert on my iPad that the US “Supreme” Court had struck yet again dismantled more of the human rights of LGBT+ Americans. The ruling—yet another far-right ideologically-driven decision—is part of the Republican far-right majority’s agenda: Make America 1883 Again.

Like most people on the centre and left of US politics, I have zero respect for the far-right Republican majority of the court, precisely because they’ve worked so very hard to destroy the court’s reputation: Instead of standing up for justice and fairness and for ordinary people, and instead of ruling in accordance with the law and the US Constitution, the far-right Republicans are instead engaged in “comforting the comfortable and afflicting the afflicted,” as journalist Ian Millhiser put in the subtitle of his 2015 book Injustices

The Court’s latest ideologically-driven decision, 303 Creative LLC v. Elenis (21-476) [PDF of the decision], involved a fundamentalist “christian” web designer who thought one day she might like to create wedding websites, but her religious views compelled her to refuse to create a website for a same-gender couple, in the event she ever started providing such services, of course, and if a theoretical same-gender couple ever tried to hire her services. While the supposed “injury” to her was entirely hypothetical, she sued the State of Colorado, anyway—well, the ultra-far-right “Alliance Defending [sic] Freedom [lol]" sued on her behalf.

The extremist group has long shopped around for “victims” they can represent in their constant efforts to overturn all legal protections for LGBT+ people—and everyone else they don’t like. They have several suits at various stages of litigation at any given time, and it’s entirely likely that when the Court’s the far-right Republican majority inevitably strikes down Obgergefell v. Hodges, Lawrence v. Texas, Griswold v. Connecticut—and possibly even Loving v. Virginia—the A”D”F will be behind it one way or another.

What’s extraordinary about this decision, and two others just released, is that there was no one who had suffered actual legal “injury” that needed to be remedied. Instead, the Court decided to “afflict the afflicted” in order to “comfort the comfortable” by imposing their own ideological agenda onto everyone else. That could not possibly be more obvious than in this particular case.

When the plaintiff’s firm filed the lawsuit against Colorado, there was no possibility of harm because she wasn’t doing the sort of work she didn’t want to have to do for people she objected to. It’s clear that Colorado didn’t think she had legal standing to sue the state, and part way through the process it emerged that, allegedly, someone named “Stewart” had contacted her through her website’s contact form to try to hire her web services for his marriage to his “husband”. The problem was, the whole thing was faked by someone: He had been married to a woman for 15 years, and even if he was gay, he was actually a designer himself, so he wouldn’t need her services. He also had no idea his name and details had been used in a Supreme Court case.

The plaintiff's legal team claimed, “it’s undisputed that the request was received,” however, it appears that no proof of that has been made public. Still, assuming it really did happen—and, to be clear, it may have happened—it proves nothing whatsoever. The lawyer suggested it could have been a troll, which is possible, but that raises questions, like, who did it and what was their motivation? Mischief or malice? Was it done to strengthen the web designer’s case? We’ll never know because at no point did anyone ever check to see if it was a legitimate request, which is… odd. A legitimate request may have actually bolstered her case if she refused, but not even checking to find out if the request was legitimate just sounds… odd.

The lawyers claimed it wasn’t actually part of the case, anyway, which is technically true (at least, from their perspective), but the fact remains that the one thing that could have suggested real potential “injury” to the plaintiff was never vetted. Even so, the lawyers were happy to continue using the apparently faked contact, arguing after the ruling that “any claim that [the web designer] will never receive a request to create a custom website celebrating a same-sex ceremony is no longer legitimate because [the designer] has received such a request.” Did she, though? And if so, how do we know it wasn’t from a supporter trying to shore up her legally non-existent argument? This just sounds like spin. Obviously, either side in a political dispute like this may try to spin the results to their benefit, but that doesn’t make claims of relevancy valid. [See also: "Legitimacy of ‘customer’ in Supreme Court gay rights case raises ethical and legal flags" by Alanna Durkin Richer and Colleen Slevin, Associated Press]

This same thing—litigants who haven’t experienced any actual legal “injury” runs through two other recent decisions. In Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President and Fellows of Harvard College (20-1199) [PDF of the decision], which overturned affirmative action in university admissions, the driver was a long-time agitator against affirmative action, not a student. Similarly, in Biden v. Nebraska et al (22-506) [PDF of the decision], the decision that stopped President Biden from forgiving some student loan debt, the supposedly injured parties—six Republican-controlled states—were not actually injured (except for their feelings, perhaps). One state agency that handles student loans didn’t want to be part of the lawsuit (not the least because they stood to make more money if the debt relief plan had been permitted), but was forced into it, anyway, by Republican state officials who used their power to act on behalf of the plaintiff because it was a state agency. In all three of these cases, dubious—at best—speculative claims were accepted by the Court’s Republican far-right majority as legitimate and as good reasons to further erode the rights and freedom of ordinary people in order to, yet again, comfort the comfortable—and to advance a far-right Republican agenda.

For the web designer’s case, the whole rightwing argument was, as it has been in similar cases, about supposed “speech”: They argue that forcing a fundamentalist “christian” to “participate” in a same-gender wedding requires the creative professional to make “symbolic speech” in support of something they oppose on religious grounds. As someone who has worked in creative industries for decades, I think this argument is profoundly stupid: They’re hired to do a job, end of story.

The real issue here is that the rightwing wants their particular religious beliefs to always cancel out the human and civil rights of people they don’t “agree with”, which, of course, is code for, shall we say, “people they dislike very much”. I think that’s stupid, too, because it only ever works in one direction: If a graphic designer, photographer, cake baker, florist, or other creative professional refused to provide services to an opposite-gender fundamentalist “christian” couple because it would mean providing “symbolic speech” endorsing the couple’s religious views that ran counter to the creative professional’s, I feel certain that the current Supreme Court would never permit that objection. Turnabout is not fair play—it’d be prohibited.

The court’s far-right Republican majority is doing the one thing that Republicans have long pretended was an unpardonable sin: They’re legislating from the bench [See: “The Supreme Court’s conservatives are doing exactly what they claim to detest” by MSNBC Columnist Michael A. Cohen]. They’re doing this legislating from the bench in order to force a hard-core ideologically-driven agenda onto everyone. In so doing, the court’s far-right Republican majority is reversing decades of slow, often tortured and halting, progress toward more fairness, equity, and safety for ordinary people, and are instead working hard to raise elites above ordinary Americans—and ordinary people are very ones who  need the protection of the Constitution.

So, yet again, the Supreme Court’s Republican far-right majority has dismantled a bit more of the civil and human rights of LGBTQ+ people. This is far from the last time they’ll do that, and each attack will be just as ideologically driven. This is why defeating all Republicans everywhere is, for now, the only hope for saving democracy, the Constitution, and the rule of law. The Supreme Court’s Republican far-right majority has yet again reminded us: Elections have consequences.

One Day More

The video above is from this year’s “Broadway Backwards”, an annual “celebration of LGBTQ+ stories told through the great songs of musical theater,” as it was described by its producer, Broadway Cares. The evening raised a record $765,069 to benefit Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS and The Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual & Transgender Community Center in New York City.

The YouTube description for the video describes what this is in more detail:

At Broadway Backwards 2023, Les Misérables’ inspiring anthem “One Day More” was set among a modern-day, ragtag group of activists preparing for an equality march in Washington. Philippe Arroyo, Bradley Dean, Jeigh Madjus, Ellyn Marie Marsh, Chris McCarrell, Turner Riley, Alexandra Silber and Paul C. Vogt led the ensemble in an emotive rendition that ended with Les Misérables‘ iconic group march as a giant Pride flag behind them signaled the dawn of a new day.

Although the benefit show was held on March 13, 2023, the video was posted to YouTube on June 2. I didn’t see it until more than a week later, then saved sharing it for June 28 (US time) because it's the 54th Anniversary of the Stonewall Rebellion. The connection is simple: If the shadows of these times remain unchanged, a major conflict is coming. It will be inevitable.

When I shared the video on my personal Facebook, I said:

This is an awesome take on the song. I remember that back during the Reagan Abomination there was a popular slogan: “No More Mr. Nice Gay”. We need to bring back that attitude before it’s too late, because if we don’t organise and fight back, they will come for us all, and we’ll suffer the same fate as the folks who sang this song in the original show.

I’ve watched in shock, anger, dismay, disbelief, and fear—sometimes all at the same time—as rightwingers throughout the English-speaking world (and beyond) have been emboldened in their efforts to take away the human rights of LGBTQ+ people, and to criminalise them—or worse, as far-right US “christians” succeeded in doing in Uganda.

This was brought home to me once again when I saw an article published by Business Insider, “Don't say anti-gay: As GOP approval for same-sex relationships plummets, Republican senators insist they're only coming after trans rights, not gay rights”. Republicans are lying, of course.

For decades, Republicans pretended that they only wanted Roe v. Wade overturned so that “states can decide”. Every time anyone dared to suggest that their real agenda was to outlaw all abortions without exception everywhere in the USA, they feigned innocence and repeated their lies. Now, Republican politicians are quite open about their push for nationwide literal or defacto total abortion bans.

Republican politicians are doing the exact same thing about LGBTQ+ rights now: They’re boldly lying, smugly certain no one will realise it. Republicans absolutely will not stop with their war against trans people and drag queens—that’s just a warm up. If they win power, they’ll be coming for the “LBG” part, too, faster than anyone can say “evil liars”.

A recent Gallup poll reported a decline in support for the “morality” of same-gender relationships, and the largest driver of that has been Republicans turning against the very humanity of LGBTQ+ people. This is precisely why we know Republicans will inevitably turn against the “LGB” part of the acronym, too: Republican politicians always pander to the most extreme part of their party’s base, and that base is becoming increasingly—and increasingly aggressively—hostile to LGBT+ people.

Republican politicians—especially those whose lips are firmly planted on the back-end of their party’s Dear Leader—are already using vile extremist slurs like “groomer” and “pedophile” against trans people and drag queens, but considering those same hate-filled slurs were once hurled at gay people, do they really expect us to take their fake denials seriously?! On what planet would that be credible?!

Moreover, the cult members of the Republican Party's leader have been primed for violence, so it’s not hard to imagine increasing numbers of violent attacks on LGBTQ+ people, businesses, organisations, etc., and when that happens, it'll have been Republican politicians’ rhetoric that was the match that lit the fuse. No matter how many crocodile tears they pretend to shed after each attack, the result will be the same: Their words, their lies, and their cynical and bigoted propaganda will have been the motivation for the violence.

And what if they get all the power they seek? They will end marriage equality: If they can overturn Roe after nearly 50 years, they can overturn marriage equality easily, too. They’ll also overturn Lawrence, thereby making simply being LGB a crime (the T already could be by then). I warned about this several times, most recently when the Respect for Marriage Act was signed into law, when I also described why that law may not save marriage equality. When I talked about that same law while it was still in Congress, I described other laws that Republican politicians plan to kill.

So that’s why a simple video of an adaptation of a Broadway song struck me as hard as it did: I saw the possible future if Republican candidates aren’t defeated at the ballot box. Because Republicans are gerrymandering every place they can to ensure they can maintain minority rule, massive turnout by sane and rational voters will be necessary if Republican candidates are to be defeated. In fact, sane and rational voters are the only thing standing between democracy and the christofascism of the modern Republican Party.

I don’t know how this story will end, but the story of Les Misérables didn’t end well for the French people fighting for liberty. Still, hope is a powerful thing, so I continue to hope that this 21st Century version of the story has a happier ending—even that the forces of evil are swept off of history’s stage altogether, thereby changing the story itself and making that one day more bright and sunny.

But: If the shadows of these times remain unchanged? I know one thing for certain: Stonewall was a riot, but if Republicans win the power they seek, we’ll need a fucking revolution—before it’s too late for everyone.

Ten years of equality

Ten years ago last night, the New Zealand Parliament enacted marriage equality into law. I remember watching the final debate live on Parliament TV, so I saw the famous speeches and the waiata after the bill passed it’s final reading. It was a wonderful time.

This also means it’s just a bit more than six months until what would have been the tenth anniversary of when Nigel and I were married, what we both called the happiest day of our lives. We passed the 14th anniversary of our civil union back in January, the day we called that the second-happiest day of our lives, largely because, at the time, being able to legally marry was something neither of us expected would ever become reality—until it did. After that, marriage upped the ante of the happiness stakes. Ten years ago last night, the NZ Parliament made it possible for Nigel and me to be able to fulfill a dream.

I think about all that, of course, though not necessarily often or in depth—but I do think about it. I think, first, about how lucky I was to be able to marry my soulmate, which isn’t a gift given to everyone. Our “married life” was far too short, and it only a fraction of our time together.

I also think about what being ABLE to be married meant to me, something I talked about the night it was passed by Parliament in a post I titled, aptly, “Becoming real”, which, I think, is one of the best things I’ve ever published on this blog. Since then, I’ve often talked about how much it meant to me that marriage equality gave us the ability to take on the same commitment and obligations that any heterosexual could do without question. I finally felt part of society in a way I never had before.

I still believe in the power of love and, for those who choose it, marriage. What I argued for all those years ago was once simple word: Options. All adults ought to have the same legal options, and ten years ago the New Zealand Parliament agreed. It was a momentous day.

Abhorrent law is dead—but the zombie may return

Today, President Biden signed HR8404, the “Respect for Marriage Act,” repealing the last of remnant of the infamous federal law, the Defense [sic] of Marriage Act (DOMA). The new law also provides certainty for married same-gender and inter-racial married couples. How long that will last is the question now.

There were two reasons this law was urgent. First, the far-right extremist Republicans on the US Supreme Court will probably overturn Obergefell v. Hodges, the 2015 ruling that established the right to same-gender marriage throughout the USA, and they may also overturn Loving v. Virginia, the 1967 ruling that established the right to interracial marriage. If they do, then the new law ensures that all US states will be required to recognise same-gender and interracial marriages performed in other states, even if a state decides to outlaw such marriages being performed in their states.

Another important aspect is that the new law ensures that such marriages will be legal under federal law for federal matters—taxes, inheritance, medical care, immigration, etc. This is another ring of protection for same-gender and interracial marriage.

However—and there’s always a “but” central to any talk of progress for justice and fairness in the USA—all of this may still be undone, and we can be absolutely certain that Republicans will at least make a show of trying. It’s what the party now is and does.

First, the far-right Republican radicals on the Supreme Court could breach the bulwark the new law provides by giving states permission to refuse recognition of marriages legal in other states but not their own. They could do this when they overturn Obergefell, but I doubt that they would do that specifically if they overturn Loving (because of optics, not just because Clarence Thomas is in an interracial marriage). More than likely, they’d seek to do that when overturning Obergefell and then just allow it to apply to interracial couples, too (if they overturn Loving).

To be sure, the Supreme Court can’t give states an exemption from the Full Faith and Credit Clause of the US Constitution without effectively declaring that parts of the Constitution itself are “unconstitutional”. That’d be a nonsense, obviously. Instead, they’d be more likely to declare that Congress overstepped its powers (or something similar) in passing the Respect for Marriage Act.

The biggest, most obvious, easiest and fastest threat could come from Congress: It passed the infamous Defense [sic] of Marriage Act (DOMA) in the first place, of course, and it took a somewhat more sensible Supreme Court to overturn part of it—the part that singled out same-gender couples for animus-based discrimination under federal law; equal protection of the law mattered at the time [the case was United States v. Windsor].

If Republicans have unified control of government after the 2024 elections, all they’d need to do is pass a new version of DOMA, repealing the Respect for Marriage Act. If the radical Republican Supreme Court also overturns Obergefell, as seems likely, then states would be free to ban all recognition of same-gender marriage, and such couples would also lose federal recognition, too.

To reiterate what I said when I last talked about this law, “it’s highly improbable that any US state would try to enact an outright ban interracial marriage”. However, political realities could lurch dramatically to the far-right in the future, and that brings up the most important point of all: Elections have consequences.

If Republicans win unified control of government in 2024, the end of marriage equality for same-gender couples will be inevitable. Being legally allowed to marry in rational, reason-based states will mean little if those marriages aren’t recognised—or of if they’re even criminalised—in other states. And if the federal government also refuses to recognise such marriages, then same-gender married couples in free states could become effective prisoners in their state’s island of freedom.

If Republicans get the power to do so, they absolutely will end marriage equality for same-gender couples. They may also end the nationwide right to interracial marriage, too, though they’d never admit that was a goal until they’re in power, unlike ending marriage for same-gender couples in ever state, something they’ve long and proudly promised to do.

As precedent, look at abortion rights: For years Republicans and their evangelical base promised to overturn Roe v. Wade, and far too few people took their threat seriously—until Republicans succeeded in the Dobbs v. Jackson Women's Health Organization decision. THEN the people who didn’t pay attention to Republicans’ vows suddenly finally understood that Republicans really did intend to make abortion illegal, without exception, in all of the USA, and they now understand that if Republicans get the power to do so, they absolutely will follow through on their promise. Similarly, those same Republicans have always promised to end marriage for same-gender couples, and it’s about damn time people started paying attention. As Maya Angelou is said have put it, "When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time."

Here’s the hope: Republicans are not yet invincible. In this year’s midterm elections they suffered a catastrophic failure in a year in which they SHOULD have had a massive victory. Despite everything in their favour this year, they failed and Democrats had unprecedented success against all the odds. One of the main reasons for that is that Republicans focus ONLY on radicalised divisiveness and culture wars, and have absolutely no policy proposals whatsoever, nor even the tiniest hint of how they might deal with problems facing Americans. This year, voters massively rejected Republicans’ extremism, and the party has responded by doubling down on that extremism. Republican politicians cannot do any differently: "When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time."

The enactment of the Respect for Marriage Act protects couples in an interracial and/or same-gender marriage for now. To prevent Republicans from achieving their goal of destroying such marriages, it will be important to elect only Democrats in the 2024 elections. Republican politicians have shown us who they are over and over and over again. It’s about damn time we believe them. I do.

Imperfect, but still a win

Yesterday, the US Senate voted 61-36 to pass the “Respect for Marriage Act” which will protect same-sex and interracial marriages in the USA from destruction by radical judges on the US Supreme Court. The bill now goes to the US House for it to pass the amended bill. The need to pass the legislation became urgent when the Supreme Court’s radical majority voted to end a 50-year-old constitutional right to abortion, paving the way for more rights to be taken away. The bill is not perfect—no bill ever is—however, it’s still a major victory for fairness, justice, and common sense, which makes it worthy of praise.

The new law, if, as expected, passes the House and is signed by the president, will protect same-gender and interracial marriages, even if the radicals on the Supreme Court overturn rulings that established those rights. To understand what the bill will do, and why it’s necessary, we first need to review how we got to this point.

Ever since the Supreme Court handed down the landmark 1973 Roe v. Wade decision, which established a constitutional right to abortion, hardcore conservatives worked and schemed to find a way to overturn it. They slowly packed the Supreme Court with far-right extremist justices, finally adding three more such extremists during the term of the Republican occupant of the White House 2017-2021, done prior to his huge election loss in 2020.

In June of this year, all that cynical political manoeuvring by Republican extremists paid off in the Dobbs v. Jackson Women's Health Organization decision, which took away the 50-year-old constitutional right to abortion. The radical Republicans emphasised they were far from finished with taking away people’s rights.

The decision, written by Samuel Alito, who has often expressed his utter contempt for anyone who doesn’t share his peculiar far-right religious views, blandly claimed the decision wasn’t related to any other decision, though no rational person believed he actually meant it. He’s used every opportunity to trash all the legal precedents on which the Roe decision was based—and those same precedents also underpinned several other constitutional rights guaranteed by Supreme Court rulings. The relevant decisions, and the rights they guaranteed, now at risk of being overturned are:

Griswold v. Connecticut: The 1965 ruling established the right to use contraception, underpinned by a right to privacy;

Loving v. Virginia: The 1967 ruling established the right to interracial marriage, underpinned by a right to privacy, as well as the Griswold ruling;

Lawrence v. Texas: The 2003 ruling established the right of same-sex couples to have intimate relationships, and was underpinned by a right to privacy, and the Griswold and Loving rulings.

Obergefell v. Hodges: The 2015 ruling established the right to same-gender marriage, underpinned by a right to privacy, as well as the Griswold, Loving, and Lawrence rulings.

Of those rulings, the Respect for Marriage Act will help secure the right to marriage enshrined in both Loving and Obergefell, but will do little to help preserve the right to contraception or private intimate relations, nor can it protect the actual rulings in both Loving and Obergefell. It’s important to note that the radicals on the Supreme Court may still overturn all of those decisions, and that would allow states to make contraception, interracial marriage, private intimate relations, and same-sex marriage illegal in those states. The Respect for Marriage Act can only partially preserve part of the constitutional rights that US citizens now have because of all those rulings that are currently in grave danger.

Here’s how the Respect for Marriage Act can help.

The first thing it will do is repeal the infamous “Defense [sic] of Marriage Act”, a 1996 law that declared in Section 3, “the word 'marriage' means only a legal union between one man and one woman as husband and wife, and the word 'spouse' refers only to a person of the opposite sex who is a husband or a wife.” Section 3 was ruled unconstitutional by the Supreme Court in 2013 in United States v. Windsor, based on the Equal Protection clause of the Constitution, however, the rest of the law remained in place, and Section 2 was a huge threat if Obergefell is overturned:

No State, territory, or possession of the United States, or Indian tribe, shall be required to give effect to any public act, record, or judicial proceeding of any other State, territory, possession, or tribe respecting a relationship between persons of the same sex that is treated as a marriage under the laws of such other State, territory, possession, or tribe, or a right or claim arising from such relationship.

This section was intended to void the Constitution’s Full Faith and Credit Clause as it relates to same-gender marriage. By repealing what’s left of DOMA, same-gender marriages will remain legal, even if the Supreme Court overturns Obergefell.

The Respect for Marriage Act will also require states to recognise legal marriages performed in other states, and they can’t discriminate “on the basis of the sex, race, ethnicity, or national origin of those [married] individuals”, and that “only the law of the jurisdiction applicable at the time the marriage was entered into may be considered,’’ and, further, a marriage performed overseas would also be valid if “the marriage could have been entered into in a State”. This is at the core of the whole issue: The Loving case happened in the first place, after all, because an interracial couple, Richard and Mildred Loving, were married in the District of Columbia, where interracial marriage was legal, and went back to Virginia, where it absolutely was NOT.

What’s going on legally is that the Respect for Marriage Act will enshrine in law that for federal purposes the standard for a valid marriage will be “place of solemnisation” (also called “place of celebration”), not “place of residence”. This means that an interracial or same-gender marriage performed in a state (or foreign country) where it’s legal will have to be recognised as legally married in states where it’s not legal. So, if (when?) the Supreme Court overturns Obergefell, a same-gender couple married in, say, New York will still be legally married if they move to Texas, a state absolutely certain to outlaw same-gender marriage if Obergefell is overturned (assuming their previous ban isn’t automatically reinstated).

There will be many thorns on the path to preserving liberty: A backward state might defy the Respect for Marriage Act and refuse to recognise an out-of-state same-gender marriage, for example, leaving it up to the Supreme Court to enforce it—if, in fact, the radicals do enforce it, because they could strike down the Act, or even just the full faith and credit provision. Or, backward states may simply refuse to recognise a same-gender marriage where one or both of the individuals are citizens of and/or ordinarily resident in their backward state, but travelled to a free state to marry. The Supreme Court might side with such a backward state.

Those risks aside, the Respect Marriage Act is currently the best hope to protect the constitutional right to interracial and same-gender marriage from the radicals on the Supreme Court. A stronger solution would be to pack the Supreme Court with rational, sensible, non-partisan, non-sectarian justices who actually believe in the rule of law and who would be certain to uphold their oath to defend the US Constitution, and so, its protection of individual freedom and liberty. That seems unlikely to happen, which leaves the Respect for Marriage Act as the best option there is until a brighter, saner day in the future when christofascism is defeated.

Some critics are upset about the carve-outs for conservative religionists (specifically allowing them to not participate in same-gender marriages without legal recourse for any couples discriminated against), and, yeah, I completely get that; I personally abhor special rights for rightwing religionists to impose their beliefs on everyone. However, I have ALWAYS believed that taking 75% of what we want now is FAR better than rejecting that and risking losing 100%.

I saw a commentator say that the better option would be to work to amend state constitutions, like a few states are doing on abortion rights. That’s a lovely idea that will do absolutely nothing right now. The Respect for Marriage Act is the only shot we have at preserving, protecting, and defending a nationwide constitutional right to same-gender marriage. If both Obergefell and the Respect for Marriage Act are struck down, same-gender marriage in free states would still be legal. Sure, if the radicals on the Supreme Court threw out Obergefell, Republicans would propose a nationwide legislative ban on same-gender marriage, but promising a nationwide ban on abortions in the wake of the Dobbs decision hurt the party in the recent US Midterm Elections; a clear majority of Americans appears to oppose Republicans’ culture war attempts to destroy constitutional rights and liberties.

Finally, while the Respect for Marriage Act would protect interracial and same-gender marriages, it’s important to note that it’s highly improbable that any US state would try to enact an outright ban interracial marriage: All states that had such laws in 1967 have repealed them (in 2000, Alabama became the last state to repeal a ban on interracial marriage). For that situation to change, things would have to have become very dire, indeed, and there would probably be a long list of threats to liberty and freedom if that was to happen.

The Respect for Marriage Act, then, is currently the best hope for preserving the right of same-gender couples to marry if the radicals on the Supreme Court overturn Obergefell. It doesn’t compel states to perform marriages for same-gender couples, as Obergefell does, but it’s not clear that a federal law could do that. It also has carve-outs for conservative religionists that, while distasteful, are quite common (they exist in many laws around the world, including New Zealand’s). And, of course, it does nothing to preserve the right to access contraception or the right to have intimate personal relations, which are also under threat from the radicals on the Supreme Court, because both of those are beyond the scope of a law about marriage—and any bill protecting both those rights would attract fierce opposition from far-rightwing politicians and lobby groups.

So, yeah, the Respect for Marriage Act is not perfect, however, it’s still a major victory for fairness, justice, and common sense. It’s entirely worthy of praise.

See also: "The fine print of the Respect for Marriage Act" from CNN, which has a really good summation of how far this USA has evolved on the issue.

AmeriNZ Podcast episode 366 is now available

AmeriNZ Podcast episode 366, “Expected results”, is now available from the podcast website. There, you can listen, download or subscribe to the podcast episode, along with any other episode.

The five most recent episodes of the podcast are listed on the sidebar on the right side of this blog.

Thirteen years later

It’s now been thirteen years since Nigel and I had our civil union ceremony. So much has changed since then, and even since the eleventh anniversary, which Nigel didn’t live to see. I noted as much in my personal Facebook post earlier today:

Thirteen years ago today, Nigel and I had our Civil Union. It was, at the time, the happiest day of our lives—until we were married in 2013, when that day took the title. Becoming a widower is absolutely the worst thing I’ve ever experienced, but *why* I found that out is because Nigel and I were together and a family. That “why” kind of sands the edges off the pain, because the only way I could’ve avoided that is if Nigel hadn’t been part of my life—part of me. That love we shared still carries me forward—it’s actually what makes it possible for me to move forward. That day 13 years ago was a very happy one. The memory of it still is a happy one.

I think that probably says as much about where I’m at, existentially speaking, as anything else could. I still miss him every single day, I still think about what he’d say, and what he’d think, but I also have to live life. In fact, I feel I have to live it for both of us. I said as much in reply to a friend on the facebook post:

I hope to bring comfort or understanding to others, which is why I share so much. It’s definitely a long and difficult journey, but if I didn’t try with all my might to move forward and live for Nigel and me both, I’d feel I was dishonouring everything we had. I have no idea what the future will bring, but it’ll be built on everything that was—that much I know for sure!

And so it is. Thirteen years ago today Nigel and I finally had legal recognition of our relationship. That, in turn, came some 13 years after it began, neatly enough. That won’t be the last coincidental alignment of numbers, but I like this one.

This particular anniversary no longer matters, not just because we were married a few years after the civil union, and not just because Nigel's gone, though all that matters. Instead, it’s because that earlier anniversary was superseded by both our marriage and its end and the fact that I’m moving forward in my life. It was inevitable, and that’s—now—a welcome thing.

This anniversary used to be the final event it what I called my “Season of Anniversaries”, something that also doesn’t matter anymore. Even so, some of the anniversaries within that “season” were and remain important to me: The day I first arrived in New Zealand as a tourist, the day I arrived in New Zealand to live, and, of course, my birthday. I’m still learning what they all mean without Nigel as part of them—except, of course, he still is.

Last year, I quoted my post from 2019: “So, Happy anniversary to us! Once again.” I’ll still go with that.

Previously

2009: Perfect Day – where it began
2010: One and Fifteen
2011: Second Anniversary, squared
2012: Three years ago today
2013: Fourth Anniversary
2014: An anniversary
2015: Anniversaries
2016: A seventh Anniversary
2017: Eight years later
2018: Nine years later
2019: Ten years later
There was no post in 2020.
2021: Twelve years later

40th Outaversary

Today was an anniversary I didn’t even notice at first, not until a friend pointed it out to me: Today is my 40th “Outaversary”. That’s because 40 years ago today was the first time I did anything to publicly identify myself as gay.

I knew that today was the anniversary because of a Facebook “Memory” I shared today (partial screenshot above). All I noticed was that it was calling attention to a 2019 blog post about the 60th anniversary of my baptism. That post was titled, “60 and 38 years ago today”, and all I thought was that it was the year of my sixtieth birthday, and that inevitably made me think of what a terrible year that ended up being. That happens pretty much whenever I see any reminder from 2019.

That means that I didn’t stop to think much beyond that the post was talking about something that was now 62 years ago—but it never occurred to me to add two years to the other anniversary, the one that 2019 post actually points out was more important. I probably wouldn’t have noticed at all if my friend Andy hadn’t pointed it out to me. I don’t know if that’s ever happened to me before.

The fact that I’ve now been out for 40 years is significant, especially because so many of the gay men who came out when I did died decades ago. I survived through a combination of luck and my generally cautious nature. Along the way, I like to think, I did some good for us all.

The biggest and most important thing that happened to me after I came out is that I met Nigel, and we legally formalised our relationship, first with a Civil Union (because that’s all we had), then marriage when that became legal. The happiest and proudest thing I’ve ever done in my life so far was marrying Nigel. It mattered to me on a completely personal level, but also as someone who had struggled for so long to make the world a little less hostile to LGBT+ people: I felt like all the sacrifices I made in the 1980s and early 1990s were repaid.

When Nigel died, none of what I felt about our marriage died: I was still proud to be married to him. It’s one of the reasons I never changed my Facebook relationship status to “Widowed”—though, if I’m truly honest, good old fashioned lethargy was probably a much bigger reason. Regardless, I wanted to be an example of a happily married gay man.

That same thing showed up in so many other ways, including photos, as a I noted in a post back in January about birthday selfies:

I don’t know if I intended for the photos in 2015 and 2016 to have the same theme (I probably did), however, I do know that in both photos, as with so many others, I deliberately made sure that my left hand was visible because then my rings would be, too. I’ve always felt a responsibility to be a symbol of a happy, long-term gay relationship, and that’s the most consistently visible way I did that, even though I didn’t actually ever say that until now

I didn’t mean to keep that a “secret”—it probably just never occurred to me to mention it. What I do know is that I still wear my rings—the one from our civil union and the one from our marriage—and I do so for the same reason I said in January. I know some gay widowers take their rings off after awhile—sometimes they switch hands, sometimes they put them on a chain they wear around their neck, and some even have them made into something new. None of that is me. I have no intention of taking them off, and when I die I want them to go with my ashes (though I won’t be here, so, ya know, whatever).

For me, the bottom line is that I fought too hard for too long to not continue being an example now. I may not have my husband any more, but I’m still an out gay man, proud of trying my best to make the world better, and mostly, proudest of all about my years with and marriage to Nigel.

All of that—all of it—began forty years ago today. Damn right I’m celebrating it.

Related:

"Outaversary" – My 2016 blog post where I talked about my 35th Outaversary.

Passed tense

There’s a way to to work out where a grieving person is in their journey: Language. Tense, pronouns, and titles are all indicators of where someone is in their journey. The same thing applies to the seriousness with which they deal with language. It’s all part of the process.

After Nigel died, I had a lot of problems with language, especially things like tense and pronouns. For months, maybe most of the first year, I was likely to say, for example, something like, “we have a vacuum cleaner,” using the present tense and collective pronoun. The accurate way to say either would have been, “we had a vacuum cleaner,” or “I have a vacuum cleaner.” Saying things correctly like that is such a simple thing, but so difficult to manage during grief—it seems so final, so absolute.

This isn’t a new revelation for me, of course. I talked about the background reality back in April of last year, when I said:

Over the past several weeks, I’ve realised that the question for me isn’t what will I do in my new life, but the more simple, “who am I?” After 24 years of being half of a WE, now I have to find out how to be just a ME. This is a much bigger deal than I could ever have guessed.

As I said on our seventh marriage anniversary back in October, there were several “days marking us becoming an us”, and in a separate post later that day I said:

I often still say us, our, and we, in the present tense, which is mostly out of a decades-long habit. Sometimes I remember to use the past tense, or use the pronouns for me alone. That much is evolving, but it’s still part of the fact that, in my mind, I think of us as an us, even though we’re no longer together physically.

That right there is the heart of the whole thing: It’s not easy to transition from being half of a couple. And yet, that was slowly happening for me, as those posts in April and October—six months apart—demonstrate.

These days, I refer to a thing as “my’, where not long ago I’d have said “our”, and that includes not just things that were once ours, but even some things that I thought of as being Nigel’s. The shift happened in part because I got tired of tripping over my words, especially when “our” no longer made much sense. It felt awkward at first, almost as if I was using words I’d just learned for the first time and wasn’t entirely sure I was using correctly. But I used them anyway.

The one thing I sometimes still struggle with is labels. I’m a widower and Nigel is my late husband, and, while both things are true, I’m very inconsistent about saying that. The subject of labels came up recently in one of the gay widower Facebook Groups I’m part of. People weighed in on whether they had/would change their Facebook relationship status to “Widowed” rather than, say, “Married”. That’s something I’ve never done—mine still says “married”—but it’s something that pops into my head from time to time when I see it on my About page. Otherwise, it doesn’t matter to me because it’s social media, not real life, and that means it’s thoroughly unimportant.

Some gay men in this situation point out that we fought too long and too hard for marriage equality to give up the label too quickly or easily, and I think they have a point. Many of them also say that they still consider themselves married, and I still consider myself married, too. Yet neither of those things prevent me from changing my relationship status on Facebook: Mere inertia does that.

One thing I hadn’t considered is that using “widowed” can open one up to scammers and users who prey on those they think are vulnerable, easy targets. I’m not at risk, for a lot of reasons, but it does give me pause when I think about any of my other, public descriptions. Again, it’s not enough to make me avoid changing the status, but when I think about it for a moment or two every now and then, I do stop for a second. Then, I think about something else, something more important to me.

And all of that demonstrates what I was talking about at the start of this post: “Tense, pronouns, and titles are all indicators of where someone is in their journey.” When I began my journey, I didn’t change pronouns or tense, and ended up saying things like “we have one of those” meaning I have it, but I could easily also say “had” in that same example for something I still have. It was a confusing time, so it’s no surprise that my word choice and tense was often confused and confusing.

Over time, things settled down, and I began to use pronouns referring to me (unless “we” was relevant, of course), and I talked about Nigel and our life in the past tense. It’s been an evolutionary change as I became more accustomed to my new reality. I (usually) get the tense “correct” now when I’m speaking because I’ve passed the point where I still cared about it.

So, too, the seriousness with which I took all that has also diminished over time. Where once I might fret over which pronoun or tense I used, now I take very little notice. The reason the whole label thing isn’t actually resolved is also because of this reality: I don’t really care about labels—actually, I don’t think I ever really did.

The grief process is a journey with some visible and identifiable markers along the way. In my experience, and that of many others, it seems, language, tense, pronouns, and titles are all indicators of where someone is in their journey, and the seriousness with which they deal with language can be, too.

It’s all part of the process.

Twelve years later

Twelve years ago today Nigel and I had our civil union ceremony. That meant we were legally joined in the only way available to us back in 2009, though we were married in 2013. But that day in 2009 was the first time we had a proper legal status, so it matters.

Most of the previous paragraph is taken from my post on this anniversary from back in 2019, the tenth anniversary of our civil union. The first sentence was the only one I updated for this post. I couldn’t even do that last year.

In my defence, on January 24 last year I’d only just moved into my new house and didn’t had full Internet yet, so posting much of anything on this blog was difficult, and, anyway, I was busy trying to get the basics unpacked and the house in some semblance of order. But I also don’t seem to have mentioned it on on my personal Facebook, either—and I apparently didn’t in 2019, either.

So: Here I am. It’s 12 years since that hot summer day when the life that Nigel and I had spent 13 years building was finally legally recognised. Here’s how I summarised when I shared the FB “Memory” (above) on my personal Facebook today:

Twelve years ago today, Nigel and I finally had legal recognition of our relationship, more than 13 years after it began. A little less than five years later, we were able to legally marry, and we did. We had the civil union ceremony at a big family event at our house on January 24, 2009—an incredibly hot day. Then we pivoted and it became a 50th birthday party for me because Nigel didn’t want to be the centre of attention. When we were married in 2013, it was a simple ceremony at the registry office, and then another big family party at our house a couple days later.

I think about all of that together when I think of any one part, because they were all linked. I’m so lucky that I was able to meet my true soulmate, and to marry him. No matter what the future holds, I’ll always have that.

What I didn’t know at the time I wrote that was that I’d said something in a similar vein in 2018, on the ninth anniversary of our civil union:

Everything we do in life is connected to everything else, one way or another, and our civil union was the ceremony, our later marriage the finalisation of what happened nine years ago today. And that’s why I remember it every year.

I only found that out when I was checking posts on this from previous years (and also found out I didn’t do one last year). Which goes to show, I suppose, that this blog has value for me in helping me to remember things, especially things I otherwise wouldn’t.

Technically, this anniversary no longer matters, not the least because we were married a few years after the civil union. However, it’s also clear that it’s true that “everything we do in life is connected to everything else, one way or another,” and this day 12 years ago was an important part of our “everything else”.

This anniversary was also the final event it what I called my “Season of Anniversaries”, something that also doesn’t seem to matter anymore. Yet some of the anniversaries within that “season” were especially important for me personally: The day I first arrived in New Zealand as a tourist, the day I arrived in New Zealand to live, and, of course, my birthday. However, all three, except for my birthday, were also directly connected to Nigel—actually, in a way, even my birthday was, too.

Connected as all those “everythings” are, I can’t really work out how they conenct to me in my new reality. Maybe that’s why I didn’t mention it last year. But I’m mentioning it again this year, so maybe they’ll continue to matter in the future? I have absolutely no idea. But this year I remembered, and I shared that fact. I take that at face value, and I’ll wait to see if this becomes clearer to me next year.

In 2019, I concluded with: “So, Happy anniversary to us! Once again.” I’ll go with that this year, too.

Previously

2009: Perfect Day – where it began
2010: One and Fifteen
2011: Second Anniversary, squared
2012: Three years ago today
2013: Fourth Anniversary
2014: An anniversary
2015: Anniversaries
2016: A seventh Anniversary
2017: Eight years later
2018: Nine years later
2019: Ten years later
There was no post in 2020.

It’s still seven years married

Seven years ago today Nigel and I were legally married. It was the happiest day we had together, which makes today quite sad. There was a time we both thought marriage would be impossible, until it was it possible. And we were so happy—before the marriage and after, but to be able to be married was very special to us both. It’s a happy memory.

But, it IS just a memory now. I can’t change that, no matter how much I want to, no matter how hard I wish for it, demand it, or dream about it. What’s done is done, and I can’t change that.

There’s one more thing that hasn’t changed, and I’ve been very clear about it from the beginning of this grief journey: As far as I’m concerned, Nigel and I are still married, even though, obviously, we aren’t anymore in a legal or corporeal sense. When I get some form that demands my marital status, like a NZ government form, for example, I have to put “Widow/Widower”. That’s what I am now, and I know that. However, aside from that, when it comes up I’ll sometimes refer to Nigel as “my late husband”, which is a common enough thing to do, but to me it’s not just making clear that he’s died—I’m also declaring that he was my husband, and, more subtly, I’m really saying that, to me, he still is my husband.

Actually, I often still say us, our, and we, in the present tense, which is mostly out of a decades-long habit. Sometimes I remember to use the past tense, or use the pronouns for me alone. That much is evolving, but it’s still part of the fact that, in my mind, I think of us as an us, even though we’re no longer together physically.

Today has been another a mixed emotions day. Memories of marrying my Nigel are still very happy ones, but the fact he’s no longer here makes me indescribably sad. I’m happy we found each other, and sad that it ended. Still we were together, we were married, and, in a sense, we still are.

I’ll close this year with what I said last year, because it’s still true, too:

So, sad and with mixed (and often conflicting) feelings, all I can think of to say is what I would have said to Nigel if he was still alive: Happy Anniversary, sweetheart. I love you.

And, I do. I said that seven years ago today, too.

Previously
Mixed feelings day (2019)
Fifth Anniversary (2018)
Fourth Anniversary (2017)
Third Anniversary (2016)
Second Anniversary (2015)
Still married (2014)

Related
To be married
Husband and husband
Just one more

Another anniversary

Today is the seventh anniversary of when Nigel and I got married. I’ll have more to say about that later today, but, for now, here’s what I said on my personal Facebook today:

Here we are again. Seven years ago today, Nigel and I were legally married, and this is now the second marriage anniversary since Nigel died. This year it’s no easier than it was last year, because even though we had several other days marking us becoming an *us*, this one was special. Marriage was something neither of us thought would actually be possible, until it was (and thank you, New Zealand!). Marriage was important to us both, not just as a concept, nor just for the legal protection it gave to our family—although all of that mattered—but also because it was a way to build a fortress around us, one in which we could be safe and secure and just get on with life.

We loved each other deeply, and that day seven years ago we committed to each other in front of a government official and gained official government recognition of our love and commitment to each other. It was possibly the most consequential day in our lives together, but it was definitely one of the happiest.

I miss Nigel today as much as I did last year, and, even now, there are days I wonder how I can possibly go on without him. It turns out that fortress we built together was stronger than we knew, and it still protects me. This anniversary reminds me of that, and that’s a very good thing.

Memories of impending memories

Today Facebook served up yet another "Memory" (image above), one that I knew was coming, of course. In fact, I talked about it when another "Memory" popped up back in September. The thing is, what all this refers to is, in fact, a happy memory, but, obviously, tinged with sadness. Then, two days later, there's another one.

What I said today on Facebook sums up what I'm thinking/feeling:

The anniversary tomorrow, and another very important anniversary two days later, makes me sad. I knew this would happen, of course, so I was “prepared” to feel bad over the next few days, but, knowing a bad patch is coming never makes it any easier to get through. I knew that, too.

Most people won’t say that they’re going through a bad patch like I just did. Here’s something you can do to help: If someone pisses you off over the next few days, please take a moment to think about how they may be going through a really bad patch. Even if you’re wrong, kindness to others is always the right thing to do, but if you’re right, it could make a huge difference to someone in pain.

This past Saturday, a week before the anniversary of the day we got married, I shared another "Memory" on my personal Facebook (image below), I didn't share it here, though I'd planned to, mainly because I was a bit preoccupied by my change in prescription, mainly because I didn't feel well that day because of it. But the fact that seven years ago I posted three different times about us getting married is a small indicator of how excited I was at the time. It's also a reason why I'm so sad about the anniversary now.

The next few days won't be good or easy, but: One day at a time. That's been my mantra for more than 13 months now, and for good reason—it works. But I'd so much rather go back to that one day…

Twenty-four years

Twenty-four years ago today, I arrived in New Zealand to stay and began my new life with Nigel. We always used to celebrate this anniversary as our own because it was when “we” began, and that made it important to us. This year’s is the first one without him, and I still have no idea how to do this—create a totally different life than the one we’d planned together. I at least know (hope?) that the next anniversary may not hurt quite as much.

Posts from previous, happier years:

Twenty Three Years Together (2018)

Twenty Two Years Together (2017)

Twenty One Years Together (2016)

Twenty Years Together (2015)

Surreal 19th Expataversary (2014)

Eighteen (2013)

The day that really mattered (2012)

Sweet sixteen (2011)

Fifteen (2010)

Fourteen (2009)

Lucky 13: Expataversary and more (2008)

Twelfth Anniversary (2007)

Eleven Years an Expat (2006)

Related:

Ex, but not ex- – A 2006 post about being an expat

Changing policies and lives – A 2011 post about becoming a permanent resident

12 years a citizen – A 2014 post about becoming a NZ citizen

Foreign-born human – A 2015 post re-examining the word “expat”

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Mixed feelings day

Today I have extra justification for feeling sad: Six years ago today Nigel and I were legally married, which makes this my first marriage anniversary without him. Arriving exactly six weeks after what turned out to be his last day, it was bound to be hard. Thing is, I don’t know what I feel about it.

I don’t think that either of us ever expected to be able to be legally married, not up until it suddenly became legal. When Civil Unions became legal in New Zealand in April, 2005, we didn’t exactly jump at the opportunity. While Civil Unions gave gay couples most of the benefits of marriage, it was NOT marriage, which was reserved for opposite gender couples alone. It was nearly four years later—January 24, 2009—before we got a Civil Union, with a big family celebration, because we’d decided that some legal recognition was better than virtually none.

At the time, the Civil Union ceremony itself was the happiest day of our lives—up until October 31, 2013, when we were married at the Auckland Registry Office. On that day, we became legal spouses and could legitimately use the title “husband” for the first time, something neither of us ever really expected to be able to do.

We chose October 31 because it was the closest we could get to November 2, the date we’d always considered our anniversary because in those pre-legal recognition days the date we started living together in 1995 was a logical one to pick. In 2013, we had a big family party on November 2, which was also our 18th anniversary together.

Anniversaries! Anyone who’s followed my blog knows that every year I’ve marked a string of anniversaries that I came to jokingly call “The Season of Anniversaries”. It began with the anniversary of when I arrived in New Zealand as a tourist (September 12, 1995). When we had our Civil Union, my pretend season extended all the way to January 24. The anniversary of our marriage added another date to that list. Will I continue to mark these dates? I simply don’t know. Probably. Maybe not.

Because six years ago today was such a happy day, and this anniversary is only six weeks after what was the worst time of my life, I honestly don’t know what to feel. Mostly, and most obviously, I’m missing Nigel as I do every single day. However, we didn’t make a big deal out of any of our anniversaries, including this one, though we were always aware of them. If Nigel was still alive, we would have said something to each other about the day, like “Happy Anniversary”, and that would have been it. So, because it was never that big a deal, I can’t be upset about what I’m missing out on today—again, apart from missing having Nigel with me.

One random thought popped into my head, though, as has happened a lot over the past few months since Nigel became sick. Because of when Nigel died, he and I had known each other 24 years, but he died before our 24th anniversary together, and before our sixth wedding anniversary. That means that, technically, we were together only 23 years and married only five. Anyone who knows me in real life will know how much that numeric incongruity will always annoy me, and anyone who knew both me and Nigel would know how much he and I would laugh at that.

But another, sadder, random thought also popped into my head: Six years ago today Nigel and I gained the legal right to call each other “husband”. Six weeks ago I got another title I never expected: Widower. The first was wonderful, but the second is hardest thing I’ve ever faced. It will remain that way for a very long time to come.

So, sad and with mixed (and often conflicting) feelings, all I can think of to say is what I would have said to Nigel if he was still alive: Happy Anniversary, sweetheart. I love you.

Previously, in happier times
Fifth Anniversary (2018)
Fourth Anniversary (2017)
Third Anniversary (2016)
Second Anniversary (2015)
Still married (2014)

Related
To be married
Husband and husband
Just one more

Ten years later

Ten years ago today—a decade ago—we had our civil union ceremony. That meant we were legally joined in the only way available to us back in 2009, though we were married in 2013. But that day in 2009 was the first time we had a proper legal status, so it matters.

The day was extremely hot, something the family still talks about. That year, too, we celebrated my 50th birthday. A decade later, it’s cooler than it was then, and it rained this morning. Also, my 60th birthday party is this coming Sunday. So, things are very different today than they were a decade ago.

All that aside, remembering is important. I often talk about celebrating the small victories, and also the significant things in our life regardless of how “important” some make think they are (which is the reason I have my largely, but not completely, tongue-in-cheek “Season of Anniversaries”). Sometimes things may be more significant than it may seem to others. Last year, I put it this way:

Everything we do in life is connected to everything else, one way or another, and our civil union was the ceremony, our later marriage the finalisation of what happened nine years ago today. And that’s why I remember it every year.

So, that day in 2009 was overshadowed by later events, but it still mattered for its time. There are a lot of events in our lives like that, some if which only we remember. Maybe bloggers have a small advantage in that we have a ready-made way to memorialise the things that were and important for their time, and for what followed. This tenth anniversary is like that.

So, Happy anniversary to us! Once again.

This now concludes the 2018-19 “Season of Anniversaries”. This blog now resumes normal content provision.

Previously

2009: Perfect Day – where it began
2010: One and Fifteen
2011: Second Anniversary, squared
2012: Three years ago today
2013: Fourth Anniversary
2014: An anniversary
2015: Anniversaries
2016: A seventh Anniversary
2017: Eight years later
2018: Nine years later