Representative Jay Inslee and our family

Act I: Getting There
Act II: You Again, Barney Frank?

It’s been over a week since we met with Representative Inslee, and some of you are probably wondering why it’s taken us so long to blog about it. Let me assure you: it’s not because we haven’t been thinking about it. There have been logistical problems in finishing the story, like the awful Internet connection I’m using as I write this. And the election happened.

Aside: speaking of the election, though the anti-domestic partnership–um–people have not conceded, we won in Washington State. Despite the small margin, we are elated. No, elated doesn’t cover it. We are overjoyed, thankful, and humbled by the people of Washington for their history-making vote.

When Inslee walked in, the first thing he did, as he folded his long body into a chair that had seemed perfectly adequate in size before he sat in it, was compliment Frances. That’s a way to win a mom’s favor, for sure. He said he had a grandson who was ten months old, and gestured to the pictures. I told him I was just asking about his grandson. Brody, your grandpa practically offered your hand in marriage to our little Frances, so grow up to be a good guy, OK?

Looking back on it now, I can see the strategy Inslee was using when he began the real conversation with us: start with a point of agreement. “What do you think of Referendum 71?” he asked.

“Well, we wish it had never happened in the first place, but we think it will pass,” I said. Everyone was still in the room, and I feel a little bad that with Inslee there, his legislative assistant, David, kind of faded into the background.

“My wife and I made a donation to the campaign,” he said. “And I sent out an e-mail in support of it–or at least I think I did–if not, I will.”

It must be interesting to have no idea if you’ve sent an e-mail or not. That’s not a criticism. I can only imagine having so much to do and so many people helping you get it done that you have no idea which steps you’ve completed and which ones you haven’t.

He said he’d been told we drove to DC to meet with him. That wasn’t exactly true, but it was a good way to up the importance of our visit, so I was fine with the misunderstanding. I did tell him the real purpose of our trip, though.

And then we talked about the Respect for Marriage Act. We brought up a couple of our talking points. Ami mentioned taxes, and I threw in a great phrase I’d picked up on the DC Marriage Equality website: “the poor man’s lawyer.” I explained to Inslee that to accomplish what marriage does, we have to pay a lawyer to write documents to even come close to the protections of marriage.

“The poor man’s lawyer,” he said. “I like that.”

We had done some research, as I mentioned. We were surprised to learn that the Respect for Marriage Act did not actually include the portability of our marriage. From the HRC summary of the bill: “The bill does not require states that have not yet enacted legal protections for same-sex couples to recognize a marriage.  Nor does it obligate any person, state, locality, or religious organization to celebrate or license a marriage between two persons of the same sex.  This legislation only requires the federal government to equally apply its policy of looking to the states in determining what legal relationships are eligible for federal benefits.” The bill is a repeal of the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA), and given that some states have now affirmed our right to marry, the bulk of DOMA seems to be that you can’t force states to recognize that marriage. It was curious to us that it was not in the bill.

Then he asked us, if a bill were to pass to give us all of the federal rights and benefits of marriage, would we have the same rights as he and his wife?

I said yes, except for full faith and credit. Full faith and credit is the nickname given to Article VI, Section I of the U.S. Constitution–“public acts, records, and judicial proceedings” are recognized in all other states, not just the one in which they occurred.

“Well, I talked to [one of the main co-sponsors, either Nadler or Polis], and asked him about the full faith and credit part of the bill. He said not to worry about that.” Inslee said. “But that part is unenforceable. And I can’t sign on to something that isn’t legal.”

Here’s where I should have said that the law didn’t include marriage portability. But there were two things going on. One was that I was kind of dumbstruck–if you know me, you know that’s not a common occurrence–by talking directly to our Representative. The other was that given that he said he’d talked to one of the co-sponsors about it, maybe my information was incorrect. So I said nothing.

“Do you have the legal information on that?” He asked. Of course, we didn’t. “Nevermind. I’ll get the legal briefs from HRC.”

“I can contact them and ask them to send the briefs to you,” I offered.

“No, no, we’ll take care of that. That’s not your responsibility.” Attention, HRC, if you’re reading this, please make sure that Jay Inslee has those legal briefs, whether he asks for them or not.

And with that, the purpose of our visit was pretty much brushed aside. He needed more information. We didn’t have it. Shelved.

Throughout the meeting, he used the term “federal rights and benefits” a lot of times. Though he never said so, it seemed that he would co-sponsor a bill that gave us those “federal rights and benefits,” but not necessarily one that allowed us to marry.

Then guess who came up again. Yep, Barney Frank. He hadn’t heard my rather pointed rejection of the Barney Frank Excuse, as poor David had, but Inslee moved on when I replied that Frank’s position on the Respect for Marriage Act was very unpopular in the queer community. I told him to Google it. The word queer made him squint a little.

And then we were swept up into the land of agreement. We should all have the same rights, federally. Inslee’s a talker, and so am I, so we wound up speaking at the same time on occasion, which would horrify some people as incredibly rude. I’m from New York City, however, where the rules around turn-taking in speech are very different. So if Mr. Inslee was offended by my simultaneous chatter, I apologize.

We took a picture, and were all set to go. But I felt like I’d been talked out of my marriage. It was a non-sequitur, and not well-put, but I said, “Before we go, I just want to put in a plug for marriage. Even if we have all the rights of marriage, there are emotional and societal reasons that marriage equality is important.” I held out my hand toward Frances. “She’s going to understand the concept of marriage long before she’ll understand what a domestic partnership is.”

“So it’s not just the poor man’s lawyer, is it?” He said.

“No,” I answered.

And with that, our meeting was over.

I have, in the time since our meeting, thought about what I would have said about why marriage equality was the goal, not merely a federally recognized domestic partnership or civil union. It’s a topic for another post, though, and even within our family there is some degree of disagreement. Ami doesn’t care what we call it. I do. I’m trying to win her over to my side, but as of now we’re divided on the issue. And as we saw in Washington State with the first-ever passage of a pro-same-sex partnership bill by a popular vote, there are good reasons for shelving marriage, since it gets everyone so upset. For now.

If you want to hear some of those reasons, Jeanne Cordova does a good job of outlining them in her post, “What the Maine Vote Tells Us.”

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Lucky for me, Ami arrived a few minutes later, just about the time that the representative’s new communications person arrived, too. He said that he always tried to sit in with David, since he was so knowledgeable. I wondered if this was a way to make us feel like we were meeting with someone important, even if it wasn’t Inslee. We rearranged for the best translation vantage point, and got started.

We explained our trip, and got to our talking points. I’ll admit, we did some research and rehearsed them beforehand so we wouldn’t forget any. We talked about inheritance, and how we are unequally taxed for property we inherit from one another. We talked about how we can’t have a family business as far as taxes go. We talked about hospital visitation and medical decision making. We talked about the fact that we don’t get Social Security benefits from one another, and how we can’t claim a non-working spouse as a dependent on our taxes. Ami said, “I’m forced to lie on my taxes. I say I’m a single person when I’m married.”

We didn’t want to draw out the conversation unnecessarily, but we were invested in waiting to see if Inslee would show up. I kept feeling like if we said just the right thing it would make a difference. I couldn’t read David’s reactions to us and what we were asking him to relate to Inslee, but I decided he was on our side because he had cool glasses. I won’t say that conservative people have bad glasses, but I will say that the better your glasses are, the more likely I am to think you vote left.

Sooner or later, David brought up Barney Frank. I hope he didn’t take my reaction personally, because I’m sure the disdain I feel for Frank’s position on the Respect for Marriage Act–and the National Equality March, for that matter–was evident on my face. I tried to explain that his lack of support for the bill was not popular amongst LGBT people. But it was frustrating, because I didn’t have anything specific to quote or point to in order to prove my assertion.

So finally I said, as respectfully as I could, “With all due respect, Mr. Frank doesn’t live in Washington, and isn’t represented by Mr. Inslee.” Barney Frank lives in Massachusetts, where should he choose to marry, he could have state-level benefits. Must be nice.

The conversation started to wind down, and maybe I panicked a little. “Is that Mr. Inslee’s grandson?” I asked, pointing to one of the many pictures of an infant boy in the office. There must be something more to say!

And before David had a chance to answer, in walked the man himself.

He looked a little like Superman, only with grey sideburns. He asked us to call him Jay, and quickly sat down with us, apologizing for being late.

I was stunned for a minute. At this point, I hadn’t expected him to show up. I realized that until he did, I didn’t really believe that he was held up in another meeting. I thought that was an excuse, politics-speak for us not being important enough.

In my next post on our meeting I’ll talk more about what it is to be an ordinary, reasonably informed person meeting with an experienced politician. But for now I’ll just give credit where credit is due. Representative Inslee showed up to meet with us. You don’t have to be a guy in a suit. You don’t have to be a lobbyist. You can be a couple of dykes in jeans, ragged and road worn, and you can talk to the people who make the decisions that affect your life.

If we can do it, so can you.

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Somewhere along the way, we’d decided to drive to DC on the day of our meeting with our representative. I think it was partly a comfort concern–we were staying at my cousin Ceil’s apartment near Philly, and it’s got great things like a guest room and a shower. It was also partly a money concern–the park closest to DC is also very expensive–twice the price of some RV parks–so we didn’t want to stay there two nights. It takes about 2 1/2 to 3 hours to get from Philly to DC, and our meeting was at 1 p.m. We left at 7:09 a.m. I looked at the clock on the way out. I remember being proud of us for coming very close to making the 7 a.m. goal we’d set.

We arrived, all of us, dogs included, in the car, minus the trailer, at 12:59 p.m. I got out with Frances while Ami went to look for parking. I blame the Maryland highway system, and in our very roundabout detour I had enough time to call them and make a complaint. They’re sending me a form to make a claim against them. Do you think they’ll send me money for pissing me off?

Attention Maryland Department of Transportation: if you have a special detour for people carrying propane tanks, you must let them know before the exit on the highway that takes you to that detour.

There. I’ve vented that. Now we can move on.

The House Office Building is pretty impressive. Long hallways where women’s shoes click so loud you can hear them at the other end of the corridor. Well, most of the women in the building, anyway. My rubber-soled shoes didn’t even squeak. All of the offices have round metal plaques that invite you to come on in. We arrived at Inslee’s door just as another guy did, and since he was in a wheelchair, I held the door for him. The front room was crowded with men in suits who smiled at me as I pushed Frances in the door. I must have looked pretty out of place. Stroller. Rubber-soled shoes. Jeans. (Black, but still.)

Before we had a chance to worry about where we’d sit, Laura, the woman who’d been so patient with our scheduling needs, popped out of an office in back and introduced herself. She also said that Jay was held up in a meeting and introduced us to his aide, David. I was a little crushed. People more experienced than us in political matters had warned us that we might not get to meet with the Rep himself, only an aide.

It was a huge disappointment. We’d traveled so far. We’d waited in the Northeast so our schedule would match up with Inslee’s. This was, however, no time to quit. We would have our meeting, with whomever was there to listen. And with any luck, we’d get to speak to the man himself at some point.

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At the post office mailing our ballots!

Today we mailed out ballots from Pennsylvania. This is us at the post office, excited to vote to approve R-71.

In Maine, we met a Californian at the No on 1 campaign office. He said he was more worried about Washington and R-71 than he was about Maine and Question 1. I listened, and I didn’t disagree out loud. Maybe I got a little scared for a day or so. But in my heart I know Washington will do the right thing.

Do the right thing, Washington! Please!

Why should you Approve R-71? Because families like ours will benefit. There will be financial benefits, like we won’t get fired if we have to take time off from work to care for one another if one of us gets sick. And like not having to pay a social worker to come to our house to evaluate Ami’s fitness to adopt the daughter she’s been caring for since before conception.

Did I mention it’s the right thing to do?

If the heartbreak we experienced at the election results in California last year when Prop 8 passed is any indication, we will be ecstatic if the voters in our state uphold our rights. Even if 49% of the people who live in Washington believe we are not entitled to the rights and responsibilities that married couples have, that 51%–that a majority–welcomes us into the adult world is edifying. No, it shouldn’t have to happen in the first place. No, people should never have to or get to vote to say whether some group or other deserves (almost) equality. But since we have to, since it’s gone the other way so very many times in our country, it will be incredibly meaningful and triumphant when it goes our way.

You hear me Washington? I didn’t say if. I said when. Make us proud. Do it for Frances.

Tomorrow we head back to Washington, D.C., where we will meet with our Representative in the House, Jay Inslee. Send us all your good gay juju at 1 p.m. EDT.

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From the 'No on 1' Campaign Headquarters

You know, I wasn’t always a big gay. For more than half of my life so far, I did not self-identify as queer.

In fact, the number of years I’ve had to think about marriage are about three-to-one the number of years I’ve had to think about queerness. I’ve encountered marriage as a child, as a teen, as a straight-by-default, as a closeted queer, as an out queer, as a married queer, as a Lutheran, as a Mormon, and as a person with enough Comparative Religion credits to need several paragraphs to express their spiritual perspective.

So I was very surprised to learn something about marriage while volunteering for the “No on 1″ campaign in Maine. I was calling a list of people who had expressed interest in supporting the campaign previously. I was calling to ask them to do whatever they could to get the vote out on the big day.

I placed a call to a number of an 84-year old gentleman we’ll call “John.” A younger woman answered the phone, and she told me John wasn’t available. I said, “Well, maybe I can speak with you? <smile> My name is Ami and I’m calling from the “No on 1″ campaign.”

And then the most appalling thing happened.

She said: “You don’t need to speak to me. We’re Yes on 1.” Then she hung up.

I know, I know: for a seasoned cold caller, that would be a very gentle let-down. But after a lifetime of having it insinuated, but not said to my face, it was a real shock to hear someone say: “I don’t believe you should be able to marry anyone. Ever. Because of ‘how you are.’”

Usually, I’m live-and-let-live to a fault. But this call changed my perspective for good. Having had several run-ins with religion in my childhood, I still thought of marriage in a religious framework. I hadn’t really conceived of it as a right. I hadn’t really realized that people thought they could take it away from me!

This woman’s fear and righteousness are the basis of the fight against same-sex marriage, and what they fail to see is: Marriage, although I believe it to be a spiritual endeavor, is not a religious institution. It is a civil institution. Their side struggles to ‘defend marriage,’ when really that’s like defending business licenses, or any other civil procedure. Defend land use permits! Defend parking tickets!

What do they mean when they say “Defend marriage”, then? They want to confuse the meaning of the word marriage with as much (muddily-worded and religious-laced) rhetoric as possible.  Take for instance (from the Yes on 1 website):

If Question 1 fails and LD 1020 is allowed to take effect, marriage will be redefined to be about any two consenting adults without regard to gender, the focus being only about what the adults want for themselves, and not what is best for society as a whole. [Because personal fulfillment damages society? Down with the pursuit of happiness!] The roles of husbands and wives would become irrelevant. [I know a lot of straight people that would love to define their own roles, so this is just super. In fact, the happiest, longest term marriages I can think of are based on non-gender specific, personally-fulfilling, self-identified roles. Huh.] The reliance on marriage as an important fabric of society will no longer matter, [I know there's not a language arts pre-req for writing things on the internet, but this metaphor is so ludicrous that I'm straining to get a point at all. If anyone can locate a subject or a verb in all that circular reasoning, please email me a diagram.] and the marriage laws will not consider what is best for children. [Flat out not true...says WebMD, the American Medical Association, American Academy of Pediatrics, American Psychiatric Association--the list grows with the years.]

To all you Yes on 1 folks in Maine, to all you Reject R-71 folks back home in Washington, to the DOMA supporters and to anyone out there that thinks same-sex marriage is ruining something or taking something away from them: I’m fighting for marriage because marriage isn’t yours to give. 

Marriage isn’t just for straight white male landowners. (Although wouldn’t that be just a bit gay!?) Marriage isn’t just for the people in power, or the people who think they know what’s “right” for everyone else. Marriage is a civil right. It’s my civil right.

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