Justice vs. Injustice an anniversary

That's us, in 2001. So young, so fresh.

I recently finished Nassim Taleb’s “The Bed of Procrustes” an entertaining and enlightening collection of political and philosophical aphorisms.  In the section entitled “Preludes” he writes: If your anger decreases with time, you did injustice; if it increases, you suffered injustice.
I read this at 10 in the evening one night, and it made me sit up and take notice. I get some grief from some who think I protest too much about gay marriage, but at the heart of it, it’s an injustice to all who strive for equality. Back in 2004 when Michigan passed Proposition 2, the ridiculous law defining marriage, I felt like a second-class citizen. I thought with time, I would get over it and it would get better.

It didn’t.

 As time marched on, many more states piled on with similar laws and each time I read the headlines, my blood began to simmer. In 2008 we finally thought that we would be able to be legally wed somewhere. The state of California had opened its doors and we went west to do what our own state would not allow. In our minds we knew it was a risk but deep in our hearts we hoped that it would get better for us.

It didn’t.

Within months of our nuptials, our marriage was sent to the voters for approval, and with the help of some well-funded religious organizations (fucking Mormons and Catholics)  and a zany collection of assholes, Prop 8 passed and all that we had done to secure our family was in limbo. As time moved on and the trials started to repeal this atrocity, I thought I had finally gotten over it and I could relax.

 I was wrong.

I sat at my computer watching the live feed from the very building where we were wed and my jaw clenched as I watched the false accusations fly against me and my family from a variety of alleged sources on marriage. Calmer heads prevailed, but there was still an injustice, as those of us who got married, were still married, but those who wished to, but didn’t get married in that window could no longer wed.

I get comments from our friends who live in more tolerant states all the time. “MOVE!” “Come join us where you are welcome!” and I wish we could, but we can’t. We have made our lives here, a life that we cemented in sacred vows ten years ago today in our backyard in front of our friends and family. Those vows were not legal, but remain dear to us to this very day. We made those sacred vows legal in California on the 7^th anniversary of our initial Commitment Ceremony, but instead of a ton of family and friends we had our daughter, some family, and a handful of friends.

On this, the tenth anniversary of our initial ceremony, I am thankful for Tod and all he has brought into my life, and I couldn’t have done it without him. I don’t need a ring on it to make it legit, but it helps. I know that it does get better, and deep in my bitter, stone cold heart, I know that love conquers all but until it does; I will continue to live and feel this injustice of inequality.