Self-Preservation vs. Self-Advocacy

I hear there is something interesting going on in the Supreme Court this week.

I know I should be interested. I know I should at least be curious. I should be checking CNN.com and reading blog posts and simply keeping up to date. After all, this is my life they are talking about. 

But I can't. I can’t bring my self to check the news, or open my e-mails, or do more than scan through Facebook for non-related updates. Maybe it’s self-preservation or fear or just general anxiety, but I’d prefer to not hear anything about it.

Last night I admitted to my wife that I can't look at any information about this. When I do my heart rate goes up and I feel a bit like vomiting. She said, "Well, if the worst happens it won't really change our lives any." To which I replied, "Except for that feeling that you've just been kicked in the stomach."

In 2009 voters in Maine rejected a same-sex marriage law that was signed into effect by the governor. I had worked hard on that campaign. Every week I went to the campaign office and entered data. As the election got closer I hit the streets to do canvassing, I knocked on 100’s of doors trying to get people to vote in favor of gay marriage, in favor of inclusivity, and love. It was way outside of my comfort zone, but something I felt strongly about doing, despite my (at the time) “mostly straight” identity. When the majority of the state disagreed with me I was disappointed, but not really affected. It wasn't personal.

Now it's personal. Now every word is personal. The fact that the nature of my love is up for debate is personal. The fact that once again people get to vote on rather or not I should be afforded the same rights as other families in this country hurts my soul. The worth of my relationship should not be up for debate. It should not be news worthy. I wonder how many more times people are going to get the opportunity to try to convince others that my life doesn’t have the same value as other (heterosexual) people’s lives.  It should simply be that every human, without exception, should have the same rights as any other human. While I appreciate more than words can describe the work that’s been done to move us in that direction, it’s overwhelming to me right now to be a part of it.

The only advocacy I can stomach is to keep living a life of love. I walk down the street holding hands with my wife. We smile. We laugh, (giggle, really) as we bolt to cross the street hand in hand trying to make it to the other side before the light changes. We treat each other with respect and tenderness. We go to church, and we love our neighbors.  My only hope is that someone might see us and think that maybe we’re not so different after all. Maybe they’ll start to see what we already know, that our love is true and whole and worthy. Maybe that’s how change is made.  Maybe that’s more important that red equals signs or news updates.

Doctor's Office Dilemma

This week had a routine appointment with my allergy and asthma specialist, the first one since my name change, the first since my wedding. When she enters the room the first thing out of her mouth is an enthusiastic “Why didn’t you tell me you were getting married?” Followed by all the questions you would expect from a friend you haven’t seen in 6 months who just found out something life changing has happened. She wanted to know when, and where and all the details. Though, all of her questions where amazingly gender neutral. I recognize this kind of talk because it’s how I used to talk about Lou before I wanted people to know that she was a she. I figure the doctor is being cool and progressive by not assuming that I have a husband. 

And then, it happens. She asks if we are planning on having children.  Because this is currently one of my favorite subjects to talk about I excitedly replied “Absolutely.” And because she is my doctor she replied “Let me know before you get pregnant so I can adjust your medications.” Oh, right. She assumes that I’m going to be carrying my child.

Then in a split second I have to decide, for the first time, do I out myself at the doctor’s office? I know I should have. I know I WILL. But at that moment I was so caught off guard that I simply said “ok.” It felt icky, and slightly dishonest, but I panicked.

 

I think that businesses should have some sort of signs on the door that let people know if it is safe to say

“Actually, my wife is going to be carrying our baby, so my meds should not be an issue!” In college there were upside down triangle stickers on doors of professors, staff, and offices alerting students of places where it was cool to be true to your self. This is a great program, and I only wish that it could be implemented all over the world, so I could know in advance how providers and businesses would treat my little family.