Prop 8 and the 7-year-old

“You remember that judge in California, Hannah?  The one who was going to decide if the law saying that two men or two women are not allowed to get married is a good law or a bad law?”

“Yes,” she says.  We were in San Francisco, coincidentally, on the day of the closing arguments, so we had talked about the case over Prop 8.

“He made his decision.  He said that it should be OK for two men or two women to get married,” I say.  “He’s just saying that for California, but it’s still really important.”

“YES!” she says.  “This is the most important thing of all to me.”

I’m a little surprised by her reaction.

“Why’s that?” I ask.

She points to Jane and then to me.

“Hel-LO?  Girl.  Girl.”

I know that she wants same-sex marriage to become legal, in part because she wants to plan a wedding for Jane and me.  She wants to be a bridesmaid.  She wants to ride in a limo.  She wants ice sculpture in the shape of a swan.  She wants us to wear elaborate gowns.  But honestly, I think what she really, really wants is for us to be married like everyone else.

And, in the end, I think it’s her reaction that is the most important thing of all to me.  Yes, I would like to have the rights and recognition that come with a marriage license.  Yes, I think that gay and lesbian people should have the same range of choices as straight people – whether around marriage, parenthood, where we work, where we live, whatever.  That said, for me personally, legal marriage sounds a bit anti-climactic, now that Jane and I have already been together – and believe me, married – for 26 years.

But it matters a lot to me that it matters so much to Hannah.  For those of us who have children, it is tremendously important to be able to show that our families are just as valued as everyone else’s.  We can tell our kids that our families are just as important, but those statements are undermined by laws that say they aren’t.  The truth is that our kids are on the frontlines of explaining our families to the world.  Marriage rights would make that work much easier because they would take away one of the major ways in which our families are set apart.  And, if they mean that Hannah gets to be a bridesmaid, so much the better.

A Piece of Paper

“Sarah and I got into an argument yesterday,” Hannah tells me as we are driving to school.

“About what?” I ask.

“She said two men or two women can’t get married, but I said they can.”

“You’re both right,” I say.  “Two men or two women can’t get married in some places, but they can in others.”

“Like where?” Hannah asks.

“Well, they can’t get married here in Minnesota,” I say.  Hannah knows this.  She also knows that Jane and I did get “married,” but that “the government doesn’t think it was real.”

These are the things we have to explain to our children.  We’re married, but we’re not.  What you know to be true in your life is not true in the eyes of the government.  Sometimes the government is wrong.

“But two men or two women can get married in other places like Iowa or Massachusetts.”

I remind her of a long-time friend of ours who moved to Massachusetts with his partner and got married there.  Hannah is intrigued.

“Did they get a piece of paper?” Hannah asks.

A marriage license?  I don’t know where she’s going with this.

“Yes,” I say.

“Did they come back to Minnesota and show it to the government?” she asks hopefully.

In her mind, this is probably all that is needed.  Maybe the government here in Minnesota doesn’t know that gay people can get married in some places.  Maybe they just need to be informed.  Maybe life would be better if it followed the logic of first graders.

“I don’t know,” I say.  It may be worth a try.