JustMarriedUs's Open Salon Blog

Letter from a Gay "Mountain Soldier"

Thu, 25 Feb 2010 01:02:38 -0500

Sometimes the answer is just so simple.

Today, Virginia congressman Jim Moran read a letter on the House floor sent to him by a gay American soldier stationed in Afghanistan. The “Mountain Soldier” makes a case for equality that is both startling and plain as day: “After 10 years, my partner has earned the right to be told first about my death.” Enough said.

Read the full letter after the photo.

Sir,

This is indeed revolutionary stuff. Not the deliberate reconsideration of the DADT issue, but that you’re actively encouraging such an adult, open dialog.

I’m one of your officers, currently deployed supporting a WIAS tasker and I look forward to my Division meeting up with me here in Afghanistan. My partner of 10 years and I have happily accepted the various assignments the Army has given me this past decade and have weathered my two 12-month-long and one 15-month-long deployments like, I would imagine, nearly every other couple - save for one detail: the partner I leave behind has no support from any official channels. He would be notified after my brother who is listed as my Emergency POC/NOK. After 10 years, my partner has earned the right to be told first about my death. He has earned the right to make my health emergency decisions. And, he has earned the right to be recognized for his sacrifices just as any other spouse. The exception being that he is not a spouse. We are not a recognized couple. And the very fact that he and I live in a marriage-like relationship could cause us to lose my pension and our financial security later in life.

As a former combat arms commander, I’ve had to face the DADT issue not just because I am gay - an imutable characteristic that is no more a choice for me than someone could choose their race - but because I’ve had 4 gay men in my command who I have known to be gay. I knew about two of them because they believed that living a lie was counter to their ethical charge as Soldiers. One was chaptered and the other was transferred. I knew about another because he was outed by an Evangelical roommate who had “baited” him into admitting it to him. He was not chaptered because we were a week from deploying and no one believed he really was gay. When he left the Army after we redeployed, he came back to tell me that indeed, he was gay. And, I knew about the fourth one because after he died of wounds from an IED, his partner of four years wrote me - not knowing my orientation - to tell me how much SSG ___ loved the Army, how we were the only family he’d ever known, and how much he appreciated the support of his fellow NCOs who knew about his personal life and whose spouses back home had taken care of him (the partner).

The “there’s a gay dude looking at me in the shower/coming on to me in the fox hole” argument is a pathetic, lame canard. Having been through more than my share of the Army’s best lodging - Ranger School comes to mind, as do the Hindu Kush, the desert in Iraq, and multiple Army gyms across world - I can tell you that the only thing I’ve ever thought about while showering was getting in and getting out. I’d be lying if I was to say that I’ve not worked with attractive people. We all have. But the difference between being an animal and a professional is, among other things, our ability to control ourselves. And, the only thing I’ve ever thought about in actual combat was living long enough to take care of my guys and to make it home alive.

Thank you for the opportunity to contribute to this ongoing discussion. And, I hope that if GEN Ham and his panel ask you what your opinion is, that you answer based on the facts, on the beliefs of this current generation of Soldier, and that you eschew the bigoted hypotheses of those who do not believe that the only way for Soldiers to truly be the Soldiers they are ethically charged to be, is to be honest with their buddies, honest with their chain of command, and honest to themselves.

V/r,

Mountain Soldier (fwd)

Love & Death: The Heart of the Matter

Thu, 11 Feb 2010 01:02:51 -0500

To be honest, we aren’t big fans of Valentine’s Day. One need only peruse the array of pink and red spatulas and cookie cutters at Sur la Table to know Valentine’s is a commercial faux-liday. But we are romantics notwithstanding and never pass up an occasion for our own personal dose of lovey-dovey, usually preferring to write one another letters from the heart in lieu of material gifts. This year, though, we found a gift we could agree on: Monday Hearts for Madalene, a photographic love poem by San Francisco artist Page Hodel to her late partner, Madalene.

Monday Hearts takes its title from a private ritual shared by Page and Madalene from the earliest days of their courtship. The Oakland neighbors met when Page, a DJ, made a nervous trip across the street with a stack of homemade "nice-to-meet-you" CDs. Cue the fireworks: As Page says, “It was absolute love at first sight” for the DJ and the librarian. Soon after, Page, upon arriving home late from her Sunday night gigs at the turntables, took to crafting little hearts from household materials—flowers, buttons, spools of thread. Left on Madalene’s doorstep, the hearts served as a Monday morning “I love you.”

Less than a year later, in 2006, Madalene Rodriguez lost her life to ovarian cancer at age 46. The couple never married though Page wished they could; today her Facebook relationship status is, simply, “widowed.” Before Madalene passed, Page promised to make hearts for her as long as she should live. Thus far, she has never missed a Monday and swears she never will. “There will be a thousand hearts,” she promises. “Someday, there will be a million. Each one tells a different story, but the emotion is the same.”

One hundred of Pages’s hearts bloom from the pages of Monday Hearts for Madalene, proving that love lives on long after death. They are a graphic reminder that we do not choose the one we love. “Her smile is in every heart,” says Page, who believes wholeheartedly that Madalene can see them. “As a child, I had an imaginary friend, and now I have one as an adult. Only this time, she was real.”

Monday Hearts for Madalene benefits the Women’s Cancer Resource Center in Oakland. The book can be purchased at abramsbooks.com, and a selection of Page’s photos is on view now at WCRC. Mondayheartsformadalene.com

NY Votes Against Marriage: The Rainbow Lining

Wed, 2 Dec 2009 17:12:20 -0500

This morning, for the umpteenth time, we sat at the edge of our seats glued to our twin laptops—one tuned to the New York Senate's live debate over marriage equality; the other tuned to TweetDeck, where our community (as always) banded together in solidarity and anticipation of a vote on our personal lives. For the umpteenth time, we held our breath and tried to fend off that all-too-familiar nausea as the American ideal of equality was squashed by political cowardice and misguided religious bias in a vote of 38-24.

Suffice it to say, the vote on the floor on the New York Senate is a major bummer. It is a blow to the marriage equality movement and a pie in the face of American exceptionalism. But it's temporary. We all know—even NOM's head bigot Maggie Gallagher knows—that equality will win the war. But make no mistake about it, the fight continues.

As good gays, we believe there is a rainbow at the edge of this ugly storm. Today, that rainbow is composed of many senators of color—including Malcolm Smith, Pedro Espada and Ruth Hassell-Thompson among others—who poignantly drew on their own personal experiences with discrimination to find commonality with LGBT people. These Latino and African American senators are leaders of communities that often do not stand shoulder to shoulder with us on LGBT rights, and many of them voted for equality in spite of opposing views among their families and constituents. We are so very very grateful for the leadership of these senators. We hope they will continue to reach out to the voters, parents and siblings who oppose them in their support for equality. We hope they will continue the dialogue about why equality is crucial, not just for LGBT people but for every person everywhere.

But until the day comes when all Americans have equal rights, the question remains "What do we do now?" For these two marriage equality advocates, we made a promise to each other to support the legislators and candidates—like Senator Tom Duane in New York—who are proven to have the courage to stand up for the values that our country is founded on. This means allocating our time and donations to local, grassroots allies. This means no more dollars for the DNC. President Obama, are you listening? We have the audacity to hope so.

A Love Letter to Maine from One Second-Class Couple

Wed, 4 Nov 2009 02:11:27 -0500

Dear loving LGBT couples of Maine,

Tonight we sat glued to our twin laptops, separated only by a couple plates of reheated leftovers, compulsively refreshing the election results from your state. We shared a bottle of wine and surfed back and forth between the New York Times and the Bangor Daily News and the feeds of just about every live blogger known to us through Twitter so that we might stay on top of the news; so that we might, in a small way, be with you every step of the way, as so many Americans were with us this time last year.

Tonight was no different for us than election night one year ago. We agonized over the head-to-head race that was Prop 8 and now Question 1. We started our evening optimistic, and then anxiety set in. Anxiety gave way to fear and eventually sadness, our throats thick and eyes heavy as defeat became a certainty. Last year, we waited for days before the battle over Prop 8 was final; today we know that the ban on equality stands in your home state. You may score a recount; you may campaign to repeal. But one thing is certain, you've got a rocky road ahead.

When Prop 8 passed, we couldn't go anywhere—not to our local coffee shop or sandwich stand, to the bank or to the market—without looking at every single face and wondering "Did you vote against our marriage?" You too will wake up tomorrow with this same vulnerable distrust for your neighbors; you too will wake up tomorrow knowing that the majority of your state deems you unworthy of first-class citizenship. It is a weight heavier than any shoulders are meant to bear.

But here's the very fine silver lining: You will also wake up in the coming days to a support group you may not have known you had. Many of your neighbors, coworkers, family and friends will stand up to rally behind you. They will hold candles at vigils and wave signs in protest; they will say they never thought that Question 1 would pass; they will say they wish they had done more, and they will be ready to do so. Much of the country will stand shoulder-to-shoulder with you, as they have done for us in California, to say that discrimination will not stand and that you do not stand alone. Maine will wake up to a new state of disharmony, where it is crystal clear that not all citizens are equal under the law.

Just like we wish we could have done more to save California from a state of inequality, we wish we could have done more for you. But since Prop 8 passed exactly one year ago, we have vowed to do all that we can: to tell our story over and over again, to educate folks on why marriage equality matters. We hope that you will also share your stories and shout them from the rooftops if necessary. Tell your neighbors just how many rights and protections you are officially denied; remind them that your children and families would have been better off.

You are, without a doubt, entering a stage of grief, and one that we know all too well. Don't be afraid to share it, to seek solace in your community, to take the opportunity to organize and prepare for the fight that is surely to come. Whatever you do, be graceful and remember that much of the opposition that rails against us draws their strength from fear and lack of knowledge. It's your duty, now more than ever, to educate them. And luckily, now more than ever, they might be willing to listen.

Our hearts are broken for you, but we take a bit of comfort in the win in Kalamazoo, where LGBT people are only just today protected under the law against discrimination in the day-to-day. We take heart in the projections from Washington State, where domestic partnership is looking up. The world is changing, and now is the time for you to put your full weight behind the fight for equality.

We sincerely hope this doesn't sound trite, but we are here for you. Our email inbox is always open, and we hope you'll share your stories with us too.

Yours in solidarity,

Frankie & Chloé

MAINE SQUEEZE: Marriage Equality Hopes for a Honeymoon

Tue, 3 Nov 2009 15:11:42 -0500

Whatever your definition of a honeymoon—“a period of harmony immediately following marriage” or “a vacation taken by a newly married couple”—Frank and I have never had the pleasure. One year ago this week, our Champagne wishes fizzled with the passage of Proposition 8. Our honeymoon became a last-ditch campaign for equality followed by resentful protest and tears for those who missed the chance to say “I do.”

This year, when we finally packed our bags to “honeymoon” in celebration of our first anniversary legally wed, a dark cloud from Maine cast a shadow over our love nest in Napa Valley. Today, Maine will vote on its own Prop 8, fundamentally named Question 1. Call us crazy, but it doesn’t feel right to raise a glass to our own marriage when the future of so many again relies on the whim of a popular vote.

As I write this, early voter polls put the race in Maine at a dead heat. If voters approve Question 1, the state’s LGBT couples will lose their fundamental right to marriage, which became law in May, to a “people’s veto.” On the heels of Prop 8, this big a loss could be a major blow to our national momentum. But if the measure fails, Maine will be the first U.S. state to pass same-sex marriage at the polls. With legislation also coming down the pike in New York, New Jersey and Washington D.C., a win in Maine could signal a real honeymoon period for marriage equality at last.

Our own “honeymoon” last week brought more than a bit of irony. The whole trip, in fact, was product of an auction package that we ourselves created to raise funds for the No on Prop 8 campaign. As we lazed by the pool at spectacular Durham Ranch—a locale donated by San Francisco interior designer Ken Fulk—I felt a pang of guilt for California’s second-class couples who missed the marriage window; guilt over the many generous Californians who gave their time and money to support equal rights to no avail; guilt that instead of getting out the vote in Maine, we were toasting our limited-edition gay marriage over a feast donated by Jennifer Biesty, the Top Chef Season 4 contender whose girlfriend, Sara, was assisting in the kitchen.

As we sat down to an anniversary meal lovingly prepared, the group around our dinner table revealed volumes about the inequitable state of marriage in America: Our friends Elizabeth and Sabrina, whose 2004 marriage in SF was revoked by the California court; our friend Jodi, whose wife and baby were out of town but whose out-of-state same-sex marriage is recognized here thanks to recent legislation; Robin and Scott, a long-married straight couple who has supported us every step of the way; and Jen and Sara, who are banned from taking their young relationship to the ultimate official level. (Disclaimer: I have no idea if Jen and Sara have any plans to marry. I’m just sayin’ that they couldn’t if they wanted to, at least not here at home.)

Whether by candlelight or under the Napa sun, our “honeymoon” illuminated an inconvenient truth: That is, our country sets different standards for different citizens, despite that whole “all men are created equal” thing. While we celebrated our legal marriage—with poolside catnaps and fireside nightcaps—there were couples across the country who have been waiting five, 10, 20 years or more for the right and privilege of marriage. While we played bocce, took bubble baths and clinked glasses beneath a ceiling of oaks sending down sprays of Spanish moss, couples in Maine were fighting for the right to do just that: to be together in life, in love, in sickness and in health.

As we reminisce on this long-awaited getaway, that old Prop 8 anxiety looms anew, welling in my gut and knotting up my throat. We surf compulsively for bits of news and the latest polls from Maine, and from Washington State and Kalamazoo, Michigan, where ballot measures seek to deny domestic partnerships and anti-discrimination laws, respectively. Now the question is, do voters in Maine, Washington and Kalamazoo believe all citizens are created equal?