(CNN)In 1981,long before same-sex marriage was legalized, I I promised to live for you. Life with the woman I love, Carol. But when Carol and I introduced each other to our friends, there were no words to describe our relationship.
When I called her a "partner," many people thought she was a business partner. "Lover" is too intimate, "life partner" is too clunky, and "special friend" is an abominable remnant of a closed age.
The word "wife" would have made our relationship perfectly clear, but it was a denied word at the time.
The penalties for this extrajudicial union were severe. Carol's beloved father, who was a Catholic, refused to speak to her, citing her objections based on her faith. We both faced potential unemployment if found. Carol, who works for the federal government, had to keep a particularly low profile because she had heard she would be fired if she was "discovered" as a lesbian.
Eventually, Carol and I bought a house together and put our finances together. Yet our accountants had to artificially unwrap taxes each year to file a "single" return.
In 1962 I married a black man. Our union was considered illegal in 21 states at the time because I was considered white.
Even in Manhattan, racism was rampant. The landlady, who lived upstairs, shouted her racist slurs every time she saw Julius. For five years we endured her vulgar yelling through the upstairs window every time he entered or exited the building.
This judgment gave not only legal legitimacy, but also social legitimacy. White strangers have casually asked about our children in public, "How did you get so tanned?" Reduced their questions. Loving normalized us. When restaurant diners stared at our unusual family composition (in 1967, only 3% of marriages were interracial), I began to reflect.
Over time, social pressure took its toll. None of my few interracial friends survived this decade of his. After 8 years our marriage was also dissolved. Returning to the days of
After ObergefellI had a series of surgeries. Whenever I lay in the hospital for a week at a time, I was grateful that Carol stayed with me without any questions. No one refuses his wife. Her presence and her daily advocacy kept me alive. Where would we have been if she had not been given this privilege.
Recently, a friend with Covid was admitted to her ICU and realized that the hospital allowed only close family members the precious few minutes of visitation. Every time, we are grateful that we are married.
We could end our lives like old "unmarried roommates" at the whim of the other's biological family. Legally, if our loved ones become powerless, they have the right to make all the decisions. For example, if we asked to sell our house, we could probably make decisions about our own future.
If, after all, abortion is not a right, as the judge has ruled, because it is not "deeply rooted in the history and traditions of this nation" which is not written into the Constitution, , all of our other unwritten rights are at stake, including the right to decide who to marry. This includes cases where the person is of the same sex. Or another race.
The vast numbers of us in same-sex or interracial marriage need to speak up, supported by our allies. More Supreme Court insanity can be averted by calling on state legislators to immediately add interracial and same-sex marriage protections to the Constitution.
This measure would prevent such setbacks. Senate passage, however, is not guaranteed. As Loving affirmed, we need to ensure the right of individuals to choose who they love without interference.
From 2008 to her complicated time in 2015, Carol and I were legally married in California, but not nationally recognized. We traveled with our marriage certificate in our suitcase. I once flashed a New York car rental clerk who denied my spouse's second driver privilege (it worked).
but mostly carried it around in more dire situations where legal binding had to be proven.Navigating such a patchwork of marriage-affirming states can be tricky, but if Congress fails to pass legislation, sanctuary states may be our best option.
The recent Supreme Court repeal of Roe — a risk to other constitutionally protected rights, such as interracial and same-sex marriage — leaves us completely her of the 1950s.
I wonder and worry: Will they come for my next marriage? My wife and I are determined to stand together in the sunshine where we belong. What do our other freedoms mean if the right to marry the one we love is not a guaranteed personal freedom?
Twice I have survived the shadow of a legal marriage, relying on the goodwill of others for my family's safety. Twice I felt a deep relief when my marriage was justified. I'm not ready to face this for the third time. i won't go back
