My friends Janna and Carrie are married to each other. So are
Michelle and Heather, and Amy and Beth. They are married because
they love each other and have committed to each other; they are
married because they can be.
All three couples live in Massachusetts, which remains, after
the New Jersey decision, the only state in the Union where it is
legal for gays and lesbians to marry. They are just three of the
more than 8,000 gay couples who have married in Massachusetts so
far.
The New Jersey Supreme Court could have gone the Massachusetts
route, mandating gay marriage. It did not. Instead, in a 4-3 split,
the court said that equal rights are not optional. What to call
those equal rights is.
The legislature, they said, has 180 days to decide. (All seven
judges agreed unanimously that New Jersey's constitution protects
the equal rights of gays and lesbians-the three judges in the
minority voted for marriage instead of leaving it open to the
legislature.)
This is a wise decision in our political climate. Coming so soon
before the November mid-term elections, a ruling that ordered
same-sex marriage in New Jersey would likely have propelled forward
the anti-marriage amendments that will be on the ballot in eight
states: Arizona, Colorado, Idaho, South Dakota, Wisconsin,
Virginia, Tennessee and South Carolina.
It could have been a disaster. We could have seen a backlash
like the one that roiled the country after Massachusetts gave us
marriage in 2003.
So yes, the decision was wise. Measured. It gave gays and
lesbians in New Jersey access to the full rights they are entitled
to, whatever that package of rights is called by legislators. I am
thrilled-absolutely thrilled-that New Jersey is joining Connecticut
and Vermont in giving all of its citizens the perks of marriage,
including survivors benefits under workman's compensation laws, the
ability to not testify at a spouse's criminal trial and tuition
assistance.
But.
Equal-marriage activists are right when they say there is
something special about the word "marriage."
It may seem like semantics. I myself thought that semantics was
all it was, until I went up to Massachusetts a few weekends ago to
play football and spend some time with Janna and Carrie, and
Michelle and Heather (I need to see Amy and Beth on my next
trip-sorry, guys).
I know many, many long-term lesbian couples in Chicago and New
York. They own houses and condos, they have children and pets and
car payments and gardens and holidays with the in-laws. They are as
committed as my married friends.
I myself was in a partnership for seven years that both of us
considered a marriage (this was before legal marriage was even a
pipe dream). We had a ceremony; we received gifts. We presented
ourselves to new acquaintances as till-death-did-we-part.
Certainly, that was our intention, if not the eventual reality.
So I know that mere words-"marriage" or "civil unions" or
"domestic partnership"-do not have the power to put a relationship
together or take it apart.
But there's something special about the lesbian couples who are
legally married, a striking difference between them and my
partnered friends. There's an ease about them. A security. A
relaxed sense of entitlement when dealing with officials,
contractors, lawyers, employers. Marriage gives them personal and
social standing that being partnered simply doesn't.
The words matter.
Not just to them. The words matter to their friends and
neighbors and family members. Straight people understand about
marriage. They understand what kind of commitment it is. They
intuitively get the words wife, husband. They don't have to wonder
after a year if the married couple is still together-they can
assume they are, or else expect to commiserate over the news of
divorce. They don't have to stumble over words, don't have to
wonder if they say "girlfriend" or "significant other" or "partner"
or what.
When faced with the words "married couple," straight people know
how the couple should be treated, and they treat them accordingly.
When they don't treat them accordingly, it is clear to everyone
that they are discriminating.
Marriage is special. It just is. It is one of the marks of
adulthood in our society, the term we use to describe the crucible
that creates new families.
New Jersey isn't ready for marriage yet. Nor, obviously, is most
of the country. If civil unions are what we can get right now, then
civil unions are what we should continue to fight for, what we
should agree to when compromise is necessary-as it inevitably
is.
So it is civil unions for now. But let's not forget that we're
aiming for what Janna and Carrie, Michelle and Heather, and Amy and
Beth have already.
We want marriage.