We Did

C and I were looking forward to 2009. We recognised all the risks, forward-planning and hard work that it had taken for us to get to where we were and we were ready to finally be settled in our new place. At the same time, we knew that my Fresh Talent Scheme visa was due to expire in December. It was becoming more and more apparent that my status as a non-permanent resident meant it was nearly impossible for us to make any long-term plans together because our future together (geographically speaking) wasn’t clear.

I could have applied to remain in the country on my own merits, sponsored by my employer but there were challenges associated with that route. First, the company would have to advertise my job and I would have to re-apply to keep it; this was relatively routine and everyone was confident it was a low-risk. More importantly, though my status in the UK would be bound to my employment at this company: so, if I were to lose my job for any reason, I would have to find another employer to sponsor me or leave the country. Normally I wouldn’t have considered losing my job as a real possibility, but the evidence of the recession was more apparent than ever and unemployment levels for my sector were growing exponentially. Redundancies were (and still are) a possibility, and the options for finding alternative jobs quickly were (and still are) incredibly limited. This wouldn’t have provided us with any sense (or reality) of security.

It made more sense for me to apply to stay in the country based on the legitimate reason for me wanting to be here – so that I could live my life with my partner. In the UK, that was a real option for us.

I have to pause for an aside here. I had originally written “Fortunately, in the UK, that was a real option for us.” Yet it’s not by luck or chance or circumstance that the UK affords gays and same-sex couples equality under the law. Enormous effort and resources have gone into campaigning for and achieving equal rights often in spite of efforts by the ‘moral majority’ to exclude gays. It’s certainly not perfect I can’t help but admire a political system that not only recognises the importance of treating everyone fairly in rhetoric, but also in policy, procedure and practice.

The first Civil Partnership in the UK happened in December 2005. C often talks about how she never thought marriage equality would happen. As a teenager she had to seek out a hidden scene in basement bars with blacked out windows tucked away from public life. Because it was new and topical, we had talked a lot about getting married early on in our relationship and knew that it was what we wanted to do when the time was right for us. I think we’d always assumed that in order to get married we’d have to have a wedding, and all the pomp and circumstance that went with it. I didn’t want to do that without including my friends and family in some way and there was still a lot of relationship-building that needed to happen for that to be a possibility.

The more we talked about it, though, the more apparent it became that neither of us were ‘wedding’ people. The thought of having to plan and execute a day where we were the centre of attention was our collective idea of hell. We were all for celebrating our love and commitment to each other; just not as a public spectacle. It became apparent very quickly that, actually, there really wasn’t a better reason for us to make a formal commitment to each other. It would enable us to have a secure future together and finally start planning our life beyond the next visa.

So, in February, we were engaged. There was no ostentatious proposal and we didn’t actually tell anyone, but it was incredibly romantic.

Despite not having a wedding as such, we still had a lot of planning to do. We wanted to register our civil partnership on 20 August 2009, our fourth anniversary, and needed to time our various applications and submissions to the Home Office accordingly. We needed a Certificate of Approval from the Home Office (processing time 4 weeks; valid for 3 months) in order to give notice to register our Civil Partnership to the registrar in Edinburgh. We then had to seal the deal within 3 months. After that we could apply for me to get Indefinite Leave to Remain as the spouse of a UK citizen any time before December, when my other visa expired. The process was pretty straightforward and we had plenty of time to get it all in place. Once we knew what we had to do and when, we were able to relax and really enjoy the build-up to starting a future together.

We even had enough wiggle room to programme in a holiday to Rhodes in July. C’mon...it wouldn’t have been ‘us’ without some time in the sun! It was an incredible week and we spent a day leisurely wandering around Rhodes Old Town shopping for rings. We’d seen a few possibilities, but eventually found two simple matte white gold bands with a polished continuous wave. We had them sized and went off to bask in the sun while they were engraved with our wedding date. A few short hours later, our most prized possessions were stowed away in a small blue velvet ring box.

We kept our plans on a need-to-know basis, only revealing to people when we were ready for them to know. That may seem selfish, but we weren’t doing this for anyone else and really didn’t want the fuss that comes with big announcements. In June, we had each asked a friend in Edinburgh to be our witnesses out of necessity, but we waited until August to tell our families.

It was a somewhat difficult telling C’s family because we weren’t including them in the ceremony. Both of her brothers had church weddings and she had been very involved in those. At the same time, we didn’t want the day to pass without them even knowing about it. I know they all had wished they could have been there, but we are incredibly grateful for the respect they showed us in simply accepting that we were doing things our own way. I have been touched by how they each acknowledged and celebrated our union with us since then.

I told my Mom over the phone. At the time she seemed a bit distant in her response, but the next day she emailed me:

 5 August 2009

Thanks for sharing with me about you and C. I just want you to be happy and I like C and know that her family has been very kind to include you in so many activities and holidays (which helps me to feel better knowing that you have somewhere to be at those times).  I also know that C and I have not had much of an opportunity to get to know each other...

Be happy (that is what I wish and want for you).  If being with C makes both of you happy and you realize the problems and hardships that you might face that is all that matters.  
Much Happiness Always!!
Hugs and Kisses
Mom

On the 20 August, C and I spent the morning at home. We exchanged cards, rings and lifelong intentions in private before setting off together. We met our witnesses outside the flower shop on Broughton Street where we picked up thistle corsages. It was raining, so we got a taxi up to the Registry Office, just off the Royal Mile. I took a few minutes to freshen up before our registrar met us and took us upstairs to a beautiful room. He said a few respectful words before going through the legal aspects of the ceremony. I remember us looking at each other as we signed our certificate. My hand was shaking and I felt overwhelmed by emotion. I was excited and nervous at the same time – this was unchartered territory for both of us but felt comforting. It was the right time.

As we walked out of the registry office, Edinburgh’s city centre had been transformed. The sun was beaming down and the streets were overflowing with festival-goers. We wandered up the Royal Mile and met a street performer acting as a statue. She was in gold from head to toe and for £1 she handed us a golden rose. We walked up towards the castle and wandered down Ramsay Lane, stopping at Mound Place with the whole of Edinburgh’s New Town in front of us. It was so fitting to be surrounded by the same buzz of Edinburgh in August that had brought us together four years previously. There is a picture of us laughing together there that is one of my favourite photos of us ever.

As we returned home together that evening we simultaneously exhaled a sigh of relief - the next chapter in our life had just begun and we were starting it in style, with a 3-week honeymoon in Australia. Little did we know that C would have an opportunity to get to know my Mom very well before we applied for my next visa, though the circumstances were highly unexpected...

Death and taxes

In Go Forth and Multiply I looked at the reasons why marriage laws exist. I discovered that the personal qualities assessed by authorities to determine whether a couple is qualified to be married do little to ensure the integrity of the nuclear family unit, despite proponents of traditional marriage claiming that this is the purpose of these laws. The real point seems to be to ensure that the individuals entering into the marriage are actually capable of making the decision to marry and that no one is being coerced or taken advantage of through the union.

There is another important qualification that I failed to mention – that neither of the individuals is married to anyone else. This is actually a mandate from the federal government, rather than the state. From what I gather, this is the only marriage law regulated at the federal level and it originates in the Morrill Anti-Bigamy Act in 1862. This made it a criminal offense to have more than one spouse at the same time. However, the logic behind this decision wasn’t based on a moral standing or designed to protect children; it was in response to the growing property portfolio and power of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints as a result of pluralist marriages (the law also placed a financial limit on church and non-profit ownership).

So...is the government’s interest in marriage actually more about regulating power and money than it is about imposing traditional moral objectives?

Let’s take a look at exactly what same-sex couples are actually being excluded from by examining the aspects of civil marriage.

Civil marriage is a single legal contract that instantaneously confers a number of benefits, rights and privileges between spouses. After DOMA passed, The United States Government Accountability Office identified 1,049 federal benefits, rights and privileges that are contingent on marital status. By 2004 this number had increased to 1,138. This is further compounded at the state level where, for example, Illinois has a further 648 benefits, rights and privileges that are contingent on marital status.

Feel free to read through them all in detail, especially if you are having trouble sleeping. Alternatively, you can trust me in saying that they pretty much all whittle down to death and taxes by:

·         defining how the couple is treated with regards to employment benefits and taxation (including 179 provisions at the federal level alone) while they are married;

·         establishing rights and responsibilities for dissolving the marriage, including obligations for child and spousal support; and

·         defaulting the surviving spouse as next of kin upon being widowed, which means they are entitled to receive financial benefits (e.g. pensions), transfer of property, etc.

Some of the federal laws defer to the state definition of marriage, so if the state government legally recognises same-sex marriage then the couple will receive equal legal rights and protection. However, it is important to recognise that only 5 states and the District of Columbia are currently marriage-equal. Other states that recognise ‘domestic partnerships’ or ‘civil unions’ present a complex legal landscape that still significantly limits rights and protections for same-sex couples.

Some of the provisions can be accessed through other routes. For example, most provisions relating to criminal issues (e.g. domestic violence and sexual assault) include the terminology ‘spouse or intimate partner’, recognising the reality that alternative forms of family exist. Provisions relating to employment can be supplement where employers implement their own policies to extend benefits to same-sex couples. Many private companies choose to do this even though they are not legally obligated because they recognise and value staff diversity.

In spite of all that, there are still some incredibly disparaging issues. I take particular offence to these:

·         Federal health and welfare programmes – these are primarily designed to assist disadvantaged individuals and families. Marital status is normally significant in determining whether a family qualifies for support and what level of support they receive. This excludes disadvantaged same-sex couples from receiving adequate levels of support and all same-sex couples from receiving benefits in the event of their partners’ death.

·         Child and spousal support – these laws exist to ensure children receive adequate support in the event of divorce by obliging absent parents to provide appropriate funds to the spouse with whom the child lives. A partner left to raise children after a same-sex relationship has broken up has no legal recourse to seek child support. Equally, a parent can be left without legal recourse to gain access to a child.

Obama extended federal benefits to same-sex couples last year and, with the repeal of DADT, this will likely be extend to include military personnel and veterans. However, immigration remains exclusive as a direct result of the definition of marriage in DOMA.

The reason I can’t come home with my partner comes down to how marriage is defined...by DOMA.

If you asked 100 married couples to define marriage, I guarantee you will get 200 different answers. Ask them again in 10 years and you’ll get another 200 answers, all different from the first. What makes a marriage is unique to the individuals in it; how they conduct their relationship depends on their needs and circumstances which are constantly changing.

Marriage laws and the legal provisions extended to married couples have nothing to do with how marriage is defined to individuals and everything to do with legally defining the couple as a financially interdependent unit. The evidence required to prove the validity of a marriage for immigration purposes underlines this, by requiring couples to submit documentation showing joint ownership or property and/or documentation showing the co-mingling of financial resources.

Watch this.

I absolutely love the point Cynthia Nixon makes here, so I’m going to say it again:

Marriage equality will not re-define marriage any more than allowing women the right to vote in 1920 re-defined ‘voting’ or integrating diners in the 1960s re-defined ‘eating out.’ It will simply mean everyone has a right to sit at the same table.

The more I watch the debates on same-sex marriage and speak with people about this issue, the more I realise how little most Americans know about how and why the government regulates marriage. This realisation is what compelled me to write this blog in the first place and the comments I have received here and through private communications have confirmed this message needs to get out...

It'll be fine

In July 2007, I completed my coursework in Planning and got a job as a consultant on a temporary contract while I finished my final dissertation. After receiving my MSc, I applied for a Fresh Talent: Working in Scotland Scheme visa to stay in the UK for two years as a new graduate. My job was transferred to a permanent contract and I started life as a professional woman. This meant I had to buy a lot of shirts that constantly need ironing.

The transition wasn’t easy. C and I spent almost every night together but it was getting harder to find the space to spend quality time together with my new 9 to 5, Monday to Friday schedule. C had her flat in East Lothian and I was living in a shared flat in Edinburgh, 25 miles apart. We would mostly stay at mine through the week as bus links from her small village to Edinburgh in the morning were pretty unreliable and I didn’t have a car (or a UK driver’s license). Living in a shared flat was fine when I was a student, but it was near impossible to get the privacy we wanted or sleep we needed in a flat full of students. There were many weeknights when we would give up in desperation and drive back to East Lothian at midnight just to get some respite.

I had every weekend off, but C worked at least two weekends a month. When we had time off together we would mostly spend it at hers. She had a gorgeous top floor flat in an 18^th century mansion house in a small, idyllic village. It overlooked a square with a fountain and was only minutes from a beautiful riverside walk, complete with a waterfall. I couldn’t have invented a more beautiful place to stay. The time we spent there was always peaceful and allowed us glimpses of what our life would be like if we lived together. Unfortunately we decided it wasn’t feasible for us to move into hers – mostly because of my work demands in Edinburgh. Instead, we focussed our efforts on preparing C’s flat for sale with a view to renting somewhere in the city together.

In February 2008, C’s mother was unexpectedly diagnosed with cancer. These things are never expected, but she hadn’t been unwell in any way leading up to the diagnosis. C was devastated and devoted all of her spare time and energy ensuring her mum was getting the care she needed, attending hospital appointments, etc. I had never been in a situation like that with anyone before. I was scared and I didn’t know how to support C. I would love to be the kind of person who can find the right words or make the right gesture to offer comfort. Instead, I become hesitant, vacant and completely lacking in any emotional intelligence or thought. The Scots actually have the perfect word to describe this: glaikit.

I had booked at trip back to visit my family over Easter weekend. It was already going to be a short trip but it would mean I could celebrate my birthday while I was there. Unfortunately my flight over from London was delayed by 27 hours so the trip was cut even shorter. I still had my birthday in Illinois, the first in many years, but the journey was exhausting and the whole ordeal left me quite uncharacteristically emotional.

It was such a stressful summer. I was at my wits end with shared living and had moved into a tiny and drafty 1-bedroom flat that I could just afford. C put her flat on the market just as the recession hit. Her mum started chemo. It was hard to see any silver linings amongst all the gray clouds. We kept repeating the mantra “It’ll be fine.” Life had guided us toward each other for a reason and it would guide us through all of this the same way. We just needed to keep strong and, in time, it would all be fine...somehow.

I remember sitting with C in front of two glasses of cool white wine at the shore in Leith after work one afternoon. We were tense, fed up and I don’t think we were even looking at each other. Somehow, through the course of the conversation we both finally expelled all of the fears we had been holding back. Ironically, sharing our fears with each other was the only way we could be strong together. In that moment I learned what it means to be a partner. I had never shared my fears about anything with anyone before, but never once did I feel vulnerable or alone. C was there for me and I was there for her at this impossibly difficult time. Our support for each other is unwavering.

And then the pieces gradually started to fall into place. Despite the housing market crash, C sold her flat (and made a tidy profit) in early July. Her reward was to watch all her belongings driven off to storage and move into my tiny flat with me. She arrived with nothing more than two suitcases and a couple of potted plants. It was certainly very cosy, but we were finally together in our own space. C’s mum successfully made it through her treatment and began the long road to recovery. As a means of exhaling, we did what we do best – we went on holiday!

The two weeks we spent in Florida and Georgia were nothing short of perfection. We cruised around in a sexy Ford Mustang called Sally, taking in downtowns, uptowns and backwaters with complete abandon. It was what all holidays should be – exactly the opposite of our real life. We were in gluttonous America; we did whatever we wanted and faced no obstacles.

At the end of the trip, C flew home to Scotland and I flew home to my Mom’s for a week. It was hard to leave her and I would have loved to bring her back to continue our adventure, especially as it was Homecoming week at IWU. Unfortunately it was still not the right time for her to join me but I had an incredible visit. I was able to spend a lot of time with many of my friends from college and I got to be a part of the ongoing planning programme for my little brother’s upcoming wedding. Amazing.

At the same time, C arrived back to a typical October in Scotland and spent the first night shivering under 5 blankets. She understandably took the decision that we deserved somewhere bigger and warmer...immediately. Cold is a great motivator and in a few short days she had found just the place, which she showed to me two days after I got back. We moved into what is now our home in late October 2008. It suits us perfectly: a modern and airy 2-bed flat, quietly tucked away but still in walking distance to the city centre.

A few months later we decided we could share it with 2 perfectly behaved goldfish named ‘Indiana Jones’ and ‘Spike’. I feel compelled to say the names were chosen by our nephews.

We regularly reflect on the hurdles we had to overcome to secure our home together and we will never take for granted the opportunities that this place affords us, in particular: space to spend quality time together, without forward-planning; respite from the normal stresses of work and city-living; and a venue for hosting friends and family (we’re slowly getting better at this).

On the 31^st December 2008 we rang in the New Year by listening to Edinburgh’s famous fireworks from the warmth of our living room. It had been one hell of an exhausting year and we were eager to see it end. Yet, from where we were sitting it was clear that, somehow, everything was going to be fine. We had gotten through it together and had grown stronger in the process. It was also clear that living together was merely the first step in us pledging our commitment to one another. 2009 was going to be a busy year, with two weddings in the diary...

Go Forth and Multiply

It is a rather compelling experience to learn about something only to conclude that the new information confuses things further. This is how I feel after every ‘session’ I spend reading about same-sex marriage debates in the USA. The only comparison I can make is to a rubix cube: every time I manage to get one face in order, I end up having to destroy it to complete the next face. I realised from the outset that this topic is a rather big beast, but I am surprised to still be discovering new ‘faces’ with every session. While I know this is a topic I will re-visit here often, I am really struggling to find the right place to begin my interrogation.

It seems to me that the point of most contention is the particularly messy business of trying to discern between the traditional and civil aspects of marriage. In short:

Traditional marriage covers the religious/moral aspects of the union.

Civil marriage is essentially the legal contract by which the federal and state governments extend certain rights and responsibilities to consenting adults.

These two concepts are not mutually exclusive; any form of governance is inevitably influenced by values-based agendas that change (sometimes drastically) over time. Everyone would agree that there is a limit to what the government should spend its time (and money) regulating when it comes to marriage. Unfortunately, people disagree on exactly where that threshold should be.

Not Republicans, though. Apparently this issue unites 80% of Republicans. Candidates for the Chair of the Republican National Conference (RNC) recently cited the importance of Traditional Marriage in preserving the integrity of the nuclear family unit, providing healthy environments for children and defining who we are as Americans (link below). In their opinion, it is the government’s primary objective to ensure that marriage remains a union of one man and one woman (under God), primarily for the purpose of procreating.

Is this really what the current marriage laws do?

With very few exceptions, the requirements for people to enter into a marriage are established by state governments. The criteria have changed over time according to what is socially acceptable. The Civil Rights movement sparked the most recent major overhaul of these laws, and it was as recent as 2000 that Alabama became the last state to repeal its constitutional amendment banning interracial marriage.

At the moment, most states will consider three things:

 A couples’ genetic proximity – this is to prevent close blood relatives from marrying. Around half of states require you to go beyond your first cousin. These laws came about after sociological studies published in the mid-1840s indicated cousin marriages resulted in unfit offspring. Interestingly, further study has concluded there is no significant correlation and the USA remains one of the only countries with legal prohibition of cousin marriages.

Both individual’s ability to consent to the marriage, usually by requiring they are of a minimum age and mental capacity. I can see an argument that these traits will ensure the couple can sufficiently care for any offspring, but suspect they also go some way towards protecting the individuals entering the marriage, as vulnerable members of society, from being abused.

Both individual’s gender – the topic we are currently grappling with. Obviously two individuals of the same sex cannot procreate without some form of third-party intervention.

I suppose these requirements do go some way toward ensuring a viable breeding pair, but surely this is not a comprehensive framework for preserving the integrity of the nuclear family unit. For starters: there is no assessment of a heterosexual couples’ fertility; children are not a required outcome of marriage; nor is there a government mandate to require couples who have had children out of wedlock to get married. There is also no assessment of a couple’s long-term compatibility to consider whether, if they do have kids, they have the tenacity to stay together. Can you imagine the public response if these reforms were suggested?

Under this logic, same-sex couples have the same procreation potential as infertile heterosexual couples – yet infertile heterosexual couples are not prohibited from marrying. Nor is a marriage license required for same-sex couples or infertile heterosexual couples to have children – either through surrogacy, artificial insemination or adoption. At this point, proponents of Traditional Marriage will usually question whether or not same-sex couples can adequately parent a child and scientists all over the world are rushing to provide evidence to support one side or the other.

Has the true motivation behind preserving Traditional Marriage revealed itself yet?

How confusing is this: A 2009 poll in Iowa found that 92% of those surveyed said gay marriage in the state had led to ‘no real change’ in their lives. Yet, a 2010 poll found that only 44% of Iowans supported same-sex marriage. I know statistics aren’t to be trusted, but this does demonstrate something important: the Traditional Marriage movement is not about preserving the sanctity of marriage – it exists, quite simply, to exclude same-sex couples from equally accessing the benefits, rights and privileges associated with marriage. The arguments used are offensive and the entire debate does more to contribute to the destruction of young peoples’ mental and physical wellbeing than it does to protect children because it perpetuates the culture of hate and discrimination.

Consider how this makes me feel:

The government considers it unsuitable for me to marry my close relatives, anyone under the age of 18, anyone who is mentally incapable of making decisions or any woman. This tells me that, in the eyes of the government, homosexuality is on par with incest, paedophilia and abusing people with learning disabilities – all of which are criminal offenses.

As a young person I felt ashamed of who I was and the feelings I had; as a result, I hid myself away from friends and family until I could escape to a context where I felt safe enough to be ‘out’. I don’t ever remember anyone saying that being gay was wrong, but I concluded from the (American) world around me that it was not acceptable.

In a way I was fortunate. Not everyone can leave their situation or create a space where they can fit in, particularly when they are young. I never suffered bullying in school as a result of my sexuality but the evidence of bullying across the USA is overwhelming. It is driving bright young people to kill themselves. Where is their protection?

More importantly, where do you think these bullies draw their justification from?

Children aren’t raised solely by their parents. They mimic the behaviour of the adults around them and draw so much of their worldly understanding and self-worth from their interactions with teachers, church elders, peers and, perhaps most influential, the media. Adults are fuelling the fire of homophobia in our country. Rather than working to protect children, state and federal legislators who oppose marriage equality are complicit in perpetuating this hatred to the detriment of everyone. Rather than helping to keep families together, they are tearing families apart.

It was essentially the subtle hatred of gays in the USA that drove me to leave, so that I could be who I was without fear of discrimination. Now, with DOMA in place and the Traditional Marriage movement seemingly gaining momentum, it is the institutionalised discrimination that directly excludes me, like so many others, from returning with my foreign partner. 

Reference:

RNC Candidates debate: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zmuJ-wtnPEI&feature=player_embedded

Public Opinion of Gay Marriage in Iowa: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Same-sex_marriage_in_Iowa 

All Hearts Come Home

Before coming out, I had always felt like I was one person in the USA and a different person abroad. I already had a hard enough time trying to shape my life abroad into a telephone conversation – coming back to the USA to visit my family was a completely different mindgame. Regardless of how I had evolved in the months since my last visit, once I crossed the threshold of the family home I felt like I had to regress back to being the same little kid I had always been under my Mom’s roof.

Any visit would bring me, my Mom, my Grandma and my brother together. Usually my Aunt and a shortlist of other family friends would make appearances throughout the week. There would be brief exchanges of stories about what everyone had done recently. I would be asked weird and wonderful questions about my life overseas, which often provided more insight about the asker’s own life. Admittedly, most of these would come from Grandma: did I have a microwave (yes), did I live far from the queen (not really, if you count Holyrood palace), how many TV channels did I get (at first 5, now over 100), did I really pay nothing to see the doctor (yes), but was that doctor as good as an American doctor (yes).

However, the majority of time during any visit is spent doing what people who have known each other their whole lives do best – dredge up the past. In the first few years I lived outside the USA, dredging up the past was hard because I was doing everything I could to distance myself from that past. Simple comments about what my hair used to look like or what I used to wear or how I used to play the flute, etc., used to send me into an internal rage. I felt that their constant references to the past overlooked the person I had become.

So, simply making my Mom aware of C’s existence and significance in my life was a huge step towards reconciling my two separate lives. Mom now had a glimpse of my real life – that is, the one I lived the majority of the time. She had finally seen and acknowledged my present.

Shortly after my Mom returned to the USA, I met C’s family for the first time. They are so integrated into my life now that it’s hard for me to chronologically place that first meeting. I remember it was a warm, sunny afternoon BBQ in C’s older brother's backyard. I was incredibly nervous and struggled to come to grips with the rather fast-paced west coast accent. But I also remember feeling so welcomed.

C came out to her family in her teens and had already gone through the tumultuous re-building of relationships that follow these revelations. It was heart-warming to see a family all interacting as adults. They accepted me immediately as her partner because there was no need to first overcome the issue of sexuality. It felt so...normal.

One of the highlights for me was meeting C’s two nephews for the first time. At the time they were 2 and 7 and we played football in the back garden. Kids don’t care who you are or where you come from as long as you know how to have fun. They both accepted me immediately, particularly the youngest. He followed me around for most of the day and we shared a special bonding moment on the porch steps, eating chips, bobbing our heads and tapping our feet along to the music. For the next year they called me Panda and after that I became Auntie. I also now have a niece and another nephew on the way. It is certainly a title and a role I cherish.

I had learned a lot from what my Mom and I had fought about when she was here. As much as I wanted to hit the fast-forward button and move our lives along to when everything could be ‘normal’, I knew we had to get through the awkward phase first, however long that was going to be.

I found out later on that one of the main issues my Mom struggled with was that she now felt like she was lying to her mother. My Grandmother is an amazing woman with a sharp wit and an incredibly generous spirit, but she has gotten increasingly stubborn in recent years. Mom worried that she wouldn’t accept this part of me and it would permanently affect our relationship. In coming out, I had effectively transferred my worry and stress to her. Whenever I phoned home, I would always speak to both of them at the same time and any mention of C was always met with a very swift change of subject. At times I felt like coming out had been pointless - I still couldn’t talk about my life!

In September 2006 I returned to the USA for a 2-week visit and to get my UK student visa. C booked tickets to come over for the second week and I softly sounded out with my Mom if she would be able to come to Normal and see where I grew up. I mentioned to my Mom in an email that C would be in Chicago anyway and I would need to be up there for a few days to get my visa – looking to see if she would extend the invitation for both of us to spend a few days in Normal before flying back to the UK. She didn’t. I wasn’t disappointed, but I was frustrated. I couldn’t see how anything was going to change without an opportunity for everyone to be in the same place at the same time. C offered me a lot of perspective, reminding me that it was still very early days.

I did feel more at ease with myself and my Mom in the week I spent with my family. Mom and I had a couple of brief but re-affirming conversations. She again stressed that she knew I was happy, that she was proud of me and that she was trying. She explained how hard it was for her to keep quiet about things in front of Grandma and I think it gave her an insight into how I had felt all those years, though I had the advantage of distance.

C and I had an amazing time in Chicago. It was the first time she had visited the city and our first trip in the USA together. Over the course of the week I introduced her to: lunchtime margaritas at the Cheesecake Factory promptly followed by a tipsy afternoon shopping spree; Illinois tornado warnings, including what to do when the sky turns green and it starts to hail uncontrollably; and, most importantly, many of my friends from college. In a way she got to experience some of the ‘me’ that exists outside the UK and I was grateful for that. We returned to the UK together, and I was, once again, a student.

The rest of that year was spent juggling time between classes, shifts in a cafe, and nights at C’s little country retreat. She always made sure I was well-fed and well-clothed and sanctioned the occasional afternoon truancy as long as it fell on her day off and we could spend it together.

I continued to do better in keeping in touch with my family, and respected my Mom’s need for time. I would mention C in passing, but wouldn’t over-emphasise her in any way that would make Mom feel uncomfortable with her new secret. I knew it would take time.

In the run-up to Christmas, my Mom and Grandma mailed me 3 boxes of Christmas joy. One was full of cookies (this is an annual tradition very much enjoyed by all my friends) – it arrived first, was opened immediately and consumed within a week. The other two were full of presents for me – all wrapped – and I was under strict instructions NOT to open them until Christmas Day. They went under the tiny fake tree I had in my room. On Christmas Eve (close enough!), I opened the boxes to find a selection of bizarre, hand-picked treasures. I am at loss for words to describe the presents my family send me and any unknowing person would struggle to justify the cost of shipping once they’ve seen what’s inside. Each odd little trinket in itself is just clutter, but cumulatively (and especially with the hand-written notes describing each) they represent a little taste of home and a lot of love.

The most surprising treasure, and the one that meant the most to me, was a small green stocking. It had C’s name on it.

Merry Christmas!

Lie to me

When I got home from work on Wednesday I was flooded with news of Obama signing DADT into law and immediately got on YouTube to watch the full video for myself. It was validating to hear my President recognising that sexual orientation is not a character flaw so significant that it undermines a person’s potential to demonstrate courage and valour and to see him sign those sentiments into law.

It’s staggering to think that 14,000 people were discharged from service for being gay. I welled up when Obama spoke of Captain Jonathan Hopkins being discharged only to receive emails from his soldiers saying they had always known he was gay and thought he was the best commander they ever had. He was removed from service because of his sexuality and not his leadership qualities. In spite of everything he worked for and the achievements he made, his country told him that he was not worthy of service because of who he was.

This echoed with a video I watched recently about Jane Castor, the Tampa Police Chief. She says she fundamentally wants to be remembered as a good police chief, but at the same time recognises the significance of her position as the first female chief (and as a lesbian). These aspects of her self make her significantly more vulnerable to criticism. She says “If a male in this position fails, then he fails as an individual. If I fail, I fail for all women.” She can’t change her gender or her sexuality (although she could have chosen to keep it hidden). Regardless of how she defines herself, she will be judged by how others may ultimately define her.

Discrimination is unfair treatment based on prejudice. The particular trait identified for prejudice can include almost anything, as demonstrated by Jane Elliott’s “blue-eyed/brown-eyed” experiment. If you haven’t seen this before, I recommend you watch it. It clearly demonstrates just how easy it is to discriminate; we all do it and some believe it is an innate human trait. It is for this very reason that protecting everyone against institutionalised discrimination is of particular relevance to humanity.

Take some time to consider this:

How do you identify yourself? How do you prioritise your unique genetic traits, personality characteristics, educational and/or professional achievements or your relationships to other people to define who you are?

How to you portray this identity to others? In what ways do you express yourself through your appearance or the way you speak, etc.?

Do any of your identifying traits limit what you can do in certain situations? If so, have you ever changed the way you portray yourself or hidden certain aspects of yourself in order to reduce conflict or achieve an objective?

Is that lying?

Growing up, I ignored so many aspects of my self because I somehow knew they were wrong. I don’t ever remember anyone sitting me down and directly saying GAY IS BAD, but I inherently felt ashamed of the feelings I had and my attraction toward women. I knew that what I felt was ‘different’ and so I buried it away, out of reach from everyone, including myself. I wasn’t lying; I was simply adapting to my situation in the way I felt was most appropriate to ensure my own ‘survival’. By changing that situation (i.e. studying abroad in Australia) I was able to express those hidden aspects and it fundamentally changed how I looked, spoke and interacted with people. I liked who I was in that situation and I did what I needed to do to ensure I could be that person most of the time.

We all adapt to our context in some way. When I go to work I wear office attire, I am confident, making eye contact with everyone, speaking clearly and directly and ensuring my body language is welcoming and professional. At parties I like to drink myself merry and usually end up dancing badly and/or singing loudly. At home I lounge around in sweatpants and eat my dinner off my lap in front of back-to-back episodes of Man v Food. All of these are me, and yet not one of them completely defines who I am.

So adapting to a situation is normal and healthy; BUT, there is a threshold of acceptability with regard to asking people to sacrifice their integrity. It is not healthy or right to force someone to portray something other than who they are for a long period of time. Senator Ben Nelson (D-Nebraska) made a poignant observation in the 2 December DADT hearings: DADT undermines the fundamental principles of the military, namely honesty, integrity and trust, and forced gay and lesbian soldiers into a situation of “I don’t want to lie, but you won’t let me tell the truth”.  

This is almost word-for-word how C describes how she feels going through border control in the USA. Immigration officers at every airport assess the potential risk of each entrant based on the information given to them. If they feel any individual is trying to undermine the system in any way, including trying to enter the USA deceitfully, they can refuse that person entry.

In particular, officers try to assess if a person’s situation is such that they are at risk of overstaying their visa. C’s ESTA visa is valid for 2 years and she is entitled to multiple entries, provided she stays for no longer than 90 days at a time. If an immigration officer interpreted the fact that C is the same-sex partner of an American citizen as a potential risk factor, she could be turned away at any time. This isn’t as big a risk as being discharged from the military, but the principle is exactly the same.

C only travels to the USA with me once or twice a year and we only ever stay for short periods of time, so I think we’re safely under the radar. We have evidence of our lives in the UK and can demonstrate that we are not intending to live in the USA, so it is unlikely that an immigration officer could find suitable grounds to refuse her entry. Yet we still adapt ourselves to reduce any risk every time we enter the country.

In October 2009, the immigration officer at O’Hare asked C the purpose of her trip. If she had been completely forthcoming she would have said “I’m here because my mother-in-law has sustained a critical head injury. She’s in intensive care and my partner is beside herself with grief. I’m here because I want to help look after the people I love”. Instead, she responded: “I’m here for a shopping trip.”

I don’t want to lie to you...

My brother asked me recently why I hate America. I answered him honestly – I don’t. I just find it impossible to respect a country that doesn’t respect me. From the moment our plane touches down in the USA, we are forced to lie about who we are. This is the exact same principle as DADT; it is unfair and wrong. We may not be soldiers sacrificing our lives in the name of the USA, but we are both human beings (and I am an American citizen).

When we return to the UK, bleary-eyed at Heathrow, I stand in the Non-EU passport line while C breezes through the EU/British passport line. When I get up to the counter, I hand over my foreign-national identity card that clearly states I have definite leave to remain as the spouse of a UK citizen. The immigration officer scans my card, asks me how my trip was and I cross the border to my adopted home country, integrity intact.

I will never suffer anxiety about trying to get across the UK border because my rights here are validated. My love here is validated. My status as a human being here is validated. These are the basic principles of life – not special privileges. We are expected to assume the same responsibilities as everyone else, so are we therefore not deserving of the same respect entitled everyone else?

References:

White House video of Obama signing DADT: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cS26CciE0VQ

Jane Castor video: http://vodpod.com/watch/5088563-jane-castor-tampa-chief-of-police-out-lesbian

Rachel Maddow’s summary of the DADT hearings: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Be72P9Y0eM&feature=related

Jane Elliott A Class Divided http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JCjDxAwfXV0

A Mother's Love

2006 was a milestone year for me. Through a series of independent experiences, I finally began to really understand the impact my decisions and actions have on the people who love me. This is an important realisation for everyone, but is particularly useful for anyone wanting to be a good partner, daughter and friend.

C and I decided to go on our first holiday together. Rather than choosing a secluded weekend away in the familiar Scottish Highlands, we got a cheap last-minute deal to spend a week Goa, India. It was a freezing January in Scotland, so why not?

Our flight from Gatwick was delayed, so we filled those couple of hours by filling (and re-filling) our wine glasses. By the time we boarded the plane we were very merry indeed and I promptly fell into a drunken slumber with my head on my tray table. I awoke about an hour later and got up to go to the toilet. At this point it all goes a bit fuzzy, but I do remember seeing some shocked passengers’ faces as the world closed in around me and I plummeted, unconscious, into the aisle halfway between my seat and the galley. From what I gather, the flight crew scooped me up, took me to the back of the plane and brought me around. I was pretty embarrassed, but accepted a big bottle of water and sat up for a few minutes before very quickly passing out again, pouring the entire contents of the water onto myself and the floor around me.

Around this time a very camp steward was waking C up to let her know her ‘friend’ had just passed out and was at the back of the plane. She was understandably concerned as she approached me laying in a puddle of liquid with my feet in the air and an oxygen mask on my face.

I tried to make light of the situation at the time, making jokes through the oxygen mask, but I was struck by the look of desperation and helplessness on C’s face as she approached and the relief that washed over her as she watched me recover. I’d been in a horrific jet ski accident when I was 16 and remember very clearly the same look on my Mom’s face as she rushed me through the rural roads of Illinois to the hospital. Medical emergencies, no matter how small, always inspire us to look at things from a new perspective. Although she jokes about it at parties, C isn’t far from the truth when she says she truly demonstrated her love by kneeling down in what she thought was my urine to take my pulse and comfort me.

It wasn’t all heavy, though - we had a lot of fun, after that! We took a walk along Calangute Beach that Sunday. It was packed with locals and a group of boys were playing football (soccer). Their ball got away from them and I tried to show off by kicking it back – barefoot Beckham style. Rather than going anywhere near where I intended it to go, the ball careened toward a family walking toward us. Fortunately the husband ducked in time to avoid it, but left his unsuspecting wife, walking behind him, completely open. Needless to say the ball intersected with this woman’s face. C nearly collapsed in a puddle of her own urine, laughing uncontrollably as I desperately apologised. She knew in that moment that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with me – she had never laughed more in life with anyone else.

I could write for days about how magical that first holiday was, but the point is that we both realised in that week that we love living our lives together. Every crazy experience was heightened by the fact that we shared it. We truly became partners on that holiday and every trip we’ve taken since then has reinforced our bond.

Things continued to develop back in our day-to-day lives as well. My voluntary placement was going very well and I began to see the links between my MSc dissertation topic and a potential career in urban planning. I was urged by a colleague at the national charity to apply for a job with a planning consultancy based on the skills I was demonstrating and this inspired me to think about getting a qualification that might actually lead to something. I found an MSc course at Heriot-Watt University in Edinburgh that was a perfect fit.

My Mom turned 60 that March, but I wasn’t there for the celebration. Her present to herself was a passport (she is now one of only 22% of Americans to have one) and a ticket to come see me. As the date of her arrival approached, I grew increasingly nervous about how I was going to introduce her to my life in Edinburgh. I knew by the time she had left here, I would have finally come out to her.

She arrived in the middle of May for a 3 week stay. The day after her arrival, two of my good friends registered their civil partnership. I was honoured to be asked to be a witness for their ceremony and had accepted before my Mom told me she was coming. So I told her I had an appointment in the afternoon and I left her shopping on the Royal Mile with a mobile phone and instructions to answer it when I called.

I met C at the registry office and we both celebrated as our friends made a lifelong commitment to each other in a beautiful and very moving ceremony. We all went along to a local al fresco pub to celebrate and I phoned my Mom to find out where she was.

She didn’t answer the phone.

11 times.

By the time she did answer she was panicked – she was jet lagged and thirsty and not totally sure where she was. I managed to figure out she was just around the corner from us and went to meet her. She suggested we go back to where I had been so she could get a Diet Coke and sit down. I literally had 40metres to explain to her she was about to join a lesbian wedding reception. I said something to the effect of, this is a rather eccentric group of people to which she simply responded “I understand.”

My Mom impressed me a lot in the following hour. She joked and laughed with everyone there and showed off all the things she’d discovered in shops up and down the Royal Mile. Afterward, C drove us up Arthur’s Seat so Mom could take in perhaps the best view of the city and we went to the Shore for dinner. Mom seemed so relaxed, but I felt sick as C dropped us off at my flat because I knew I was about to have the conversation with my Mom that I had been avoiding for years.

By this time I had moved out of my friend’s front room and into a beautiful tenement in Edinburgh’s New Town. Unfortunately the charm of the flat was outweighed by the general neglect normally given to older shared-tenant properties in the city. It was a cold, damp place for most of the year. As we sat in the lounge room I muttered something to the effect of “C’s not just my friend, she’s my partner” and “I’ve always wondered if you’ve known I’m not straight”. But I was completely blown away when, after a few moments of silence, my Mom said “You are my daughter and I love you. I will try to figure out how to be okay with this.”

The following week we went to Galway in Ireland. We didn’t talk much about my revelation and whenever I brought up C Mom would get noticeably uncomfortable. That weekend, back in Edinburgh, we had a big fight. I had asked if it would be okay if I spent some time that evening with C, and Mom got upset. She had, after all, come all this way to see me. I said a lot of things I regret in that exchange, but fortunately I listened to what she told me:

Almost every day my Mom had no idea what I was doing, if I was happy or if I was even alive. I had shut her out completely and she had no point of reference in my life anymore. She knew I had been holding back and now that she knew why, it was going to take some time for her to come to terms with it all. She felt lied to and used. I had always gotten what I wanted from her and I had given her nothing in return for the last 3 years.

She was trying to meet me more than halfway by travelling across the world to be a part of my life abroad, if even for a short time. She wanted to be able to go back and picture me doing normal things in her head. I was asking her to instantly accept all the things I had hidden from her for all this time; she was at least owed the time to transition into this.

I respected her feelings more appropriately after that and we spent the week travelling up the west coast of Scotland to Skye. It was a magical trip and we were both more relaxed around each other and laughed a lot. I got to know my mother again in that week and do you know what I realised? In spite of me trying to hide from her, she had always known me better than I knew myself. When we got back to Edinburgh, she asked me to invite C to the movies with us to see the Da Vinci Code (we’d already visited Roslyn Chapel). That was the first indication of her acceptance and it meant the world to me.

Before she left, my Mom told me she would pay for me to get yet another university degree, even though it meant another year away from the USA, and away from her. She told me she knew I was happy here – otherwise why would I stay? She made me promise that I would try harder to keep in touch with everyone. I had a responsibility in this relationship, too, after all.

When I came back from seeing her off, I found this note on my pillow.

Thanks for showing me a great time. Now I will be able to picture lots of things easier. I know you will do great at university and that you are happy to be in. It is a big accomplishment and we are proud of you! Remember you are very cherished and loved by Grandma and me.

Stay in touch better. We miss you tons.

All my love!!

Hugs and Kisses!! (from Grandma too)

Mom

The void left by her absence lingered for weeks...

Dear Senator Durbin,

Now, let’s face it. I’m not a professional political activist. In fact I’d say I have around about a seventh-grade understanding of American government and maybe (at a push) a second-grade understanding of American history. If someone asked me how a bill becomes a law, I would tell them to search for Schoolhouse Rocks on Youtube. It’s safe to say that I have never even considered writing to a politician before.

I was really motivated to do something when I started getting these appeals from Immigration Equality on Facebook to support the DREAM Act. In short, it’s a piece of legislation that would provide the children of illegal immigrants a path to citizenship, provided they prove they can positively contribute to society by completing either two years of active military service or two years of college. The logic behind the bill is that these children are not at fault for their parents’ decision to bring them to the USA and, having lived their entire lives creating a home in the USA, it is unfair to send them ‘back’. Senator Dick Durbin, a representative from my homestate of Illinois, is one of the driving forces behind this bill.

First, let me say that, in principle, I welcome the progressiveness of this DREAM Act. I support anything that leads to a diverse and educated society. I agree that these children had no control over what brought them into the country and that it would be cruel to remove them to a context where they do not belong.

At the same time, I resent what the DREAM Act represents. I can’t help but think “How dare this bill come before legislation that would provide equal recognition for me, a legal American citizen?”  It didn’t feel right that politicians were lobbying to extend the civil rights associated with American citizenship to an entirely new genre of people, but were content to ignore the LGBT families who are excluded from the system in spite of our citizenship. I got angry and motivated.

With my sites set on Dick Durbin, I decided to do a bit of background research to understand how best to approach a letter (thanks Wikipedia!). In short:

Richard “Dick” Durbin is a Democrat Senator representing Illinois. He’s a popular lifelong politician, elected to the House of Representatives in 1982 and moving into the Senate in 1996. He became the Democratic Whip (Assistant Leader) in 2004 and serves as the chairman for the Judiciary Subcommittee on Human Rights and the Law and the Appropriations Subcommittee on Financial Services and General Government.

Brilliant! He’s high up the political totem pole, he’s chairman of the committee that currently holds the Uniting American Families Act (UAFA), he’s active in the movement to fix America’s broken immigration system and he’s not completely opposed to LGBT issues.

I sat down and wrote him a letter. It started with a paragraph showing my support for the DREAM Act and asked him to extend that support to UAFA and to use his influence to raise visibility for this important issue. I poured out, in no less than 1,000 words, just how important immigration equality was to me and my family and emphasised how the current legislation actually doubly discriminates against us. I submitted it to his website and, because it says priority is given to Illinois residents, used my mother’s postal address.

You can imagine my surprise and initial delight when I received a response in less than 24 hours.

Unfortunately it was a standard form response telling me all about the DREAM Act and thanking me for my support. The only paragraph that remotely addressed what I had asked was purely coincidence:

“There are thousands of young people across our country who believe in the promise of America. What they have to offer makes us a stronger nation. I will continue to work for the passage of immigration reforms, including the DREAM Act, that are tough and enforceable but also fair and consistent with our nation's values.”

I might be naive about a lot of things, but I knew Senator Durbin wouldn’t actually read my letter and that the response would come from a staffer. But I also believe that staffer has a responsibility to at least read beyond the first paragraph of a lengthy, heartfelt correspondence. It would be an understatement to say I was infuriated to receive a reply that not only ignored 90% of what I had written, but thanked me for supporting a bill that sort of feels like it’s slapping me in the face.

But there was a ray of sunshine way down at the end:

“Thank you again for your message. Please feel free to keep in touch.”

So, I re-submitted my original letter to Senator Durbin on the 8^th December 2010 – this time including an opening paragraph that read something like this:

Dear Senator Durbin,

I recently wrote you an incredibly heartfelt and personal letter detailing my ongoing struggle as part of a bi-national same-sex couple. Your reply was wholly irrelevant to the content of my letter and the points I asked you to address. It is clear that whoever read my letter never made it past the first paragraph. I am re-submitting my letter below in the hopes that whoever receives it this time has the respect to at least make it to the end.

I got notification that the letter had been received and am still awaiting a reply.

I Really Like You

I had arrived in Edinburgh from Australia in December 2004 and I was single, sleeping on a foldaway bed in the corner of my friend’s front room by May. An American friend had recently said to me that she was jealous of the ‘glamorous’ life I was living abroad and I couldn’t help but laugh whenever I thought of this. Glamorous was about as far from my reality as anyone could get. I had just moved house in a taxi and didn’t own a single pair of shoes that didn’t have a hole in the sole. I felt like a complete loser and wholly accepted responsibility for creating that situation for myself, but I wasn’t doing anything to change because I had no idea what I wanted to do.

I met my partner through mutual friends in late July, 2005. Neither of us was looking for love - she was pretty broken, coming out of a complicated break-up, and I was utterly defeated, not knowing where my life was going. I think we were both at a point in our lives where we felt we had already lost it all. Even though we are almost exact opposites in terms of personality, we have the same peculiar sense of humour and both took great comfort in finding someone to laugh with about anything and everything. She was a colourful oasis in an otherwise bleak landscape.

We spent August taking in the sites, sounds, smells and insanity of Edinburgh’s festival season. It’s a time where literally anything goes and there is a palpable buzz in the city. People lose their heads for the entire month and even the weather is unnaturally pleasant. I would meet C a few times a week and we would wander the streets, talking endlessly, taking in free shows, getting lost in various beer gardens and just immersing ourselves in each other. She made the world around me feel inspiring again.

In spite of the gravity between us, though, it seems like we have always had to jump through hoops to be together. From the first day we met, we both knew there was an expiration date on my time in the UK - I was on a temporary visa valid until October to complete a voluntary placement with a national charity. Neither of us considered any other alternative and C even encouraged me to find something positive to move on to. She got me in touch with a friend of hers in California who understood my reluctance to return to the USA, offered me a place to stay while I transitioned back into a life there and gave me a list of charities I could start off with to build some professional experience. C even gave me an ipod as a going away present – she is the most thoughtful and generous person I know.

In the September come-down, reality set in. One morning while we were getting ready to drive back to Edinburgh from C’s flat in East Lothian, she very bravely told me she couldn’t see me anymore because she liked me too much. We had already come so far and it was going to be almost impossible to say goodbye to me in a matter of weeks. She would rather end it now while there was still a chance she could let go. I couldn’t argue with her logic. I had left relationships and lives behind before and knew the kind of hurt it inevitably led to, regardless of good intentions at the point of departure. I did not want to hurt her like that, but I was devastated.

After she dropped me off, I sat for a long time staring at the wall in the front room that was my bedroom, thinking about what could possibly be ahead of me in this life. I had two degrees but no direction. I had countless places to live but nowhere felt like home. I had friends scattered all over the world but I was desperately lonely. I was tired of leaving things unfinished; so I decided to stop. I texted C to let her know that I was going to do whatever I could to stay here and begged her to keep seeing me. Looking back now, I knew I liked spending time with her, but I think I also had a sense that she was the kind of person who could help me find the confidence to take control of my life.

I found out that I could apply for an extended visa to stay as a volunteer in the UK. To do this I needed evidence that my family would support me financially. So I shamelessly phoned home to ask my Mom for a letter of support, copies of her bank statement and money (wired to my flatmate’s bank account because I wasn’t allowed one here in the UK). She could have easily said no, and I would have had no other option but to return to the USA. I often wonder if she ever considered that; I’m sure her heart was screaming out to do whatever she could to get me home. Instead, she did exactly what I asked without question and I had another year abroad. I was determined to come out the other end of it with all the things that had so far eluded me: direction, purpose and home.

People always joke that lesbians bring a moving van to the second date, and admittedly, with our relationship only in its infancy, my decision to stay in the UK was pretty heavy going. C was clearly happy that I wasn’t leaving, but from that moment on she has felt responsible for ‘keeping me here’. I still have to remind her that even though my decision to stay in the UK was inspired by her, I had left the USA for my own reasons long before I had known her. At the time, though, it put a lot of pressure on a relationship that previously had none. Still, hoop number one was successfully completed - we at least had an opportunity to see where the relationship could go.

Then came hoops number 2 through 100. The fact that I was going to be around longer meant I was no longer just a distraction in C’s life, and her ex-partner worked hard to try and sabotage us. For months it felt like everyone else had a reason to ‘warn’ us off getting involved with each other. Thankfully, the fact that we had previously assumed I was leaving meant we had been boldly open with one another from the start of the relationship. We understood each other well enough to withstand these external pressures and through trial and error managed to shed the people who seemed determined to be negative influences in our lives.

That’s not to say we weren’t cautious. We were both quite emotionally raw, and didn’t want to rush into anything too serious too quickly. C was very clear about waiting to introduce me to her family. She’d been in two long-term relationships in the past and knew that those break-ups had meant dissolution of the relationships between her ex-partners and her family. She didn’t want to re-start the process of establishing and developing new relationships until she was sure I wasn’t going to just disappear from her life.

I knew what my heart was telling me in those first six months, but would only ever admit to C that ‘I liked you’. I would end emails and text messages that way. It was eventually emphasised to ‘I REALLY LIKE YOU’. It became a bit of a running joke between us to see who could get in the most reallys.

C spent Christmas Day 2005 with her family and then came to see me in the evening. We exchanged presents and stayed up late, chatting and watching our Christmas candles melting into a red and green mess on the table. And then, we exchanged I love yous. This was getting serious...

We the People...

I went home for Thanksgiving this year for the first time since I left the USA. My Mom and Grandma decorated the whole house for Christmas in anticipation of my arrival and baked about 6 dozen Christmas cookies. My brother and his wife put everything else in their lives aside to spend all of their spare time with me and together we had an amazing week as a family just doing normal things like going to the grocery store (every day, for some reason), playing games and watching TV. I am finally in a place to really appreciate and be comforted by being in my Mom’s home.

My partner didn’t come with me this time and her absence didn’t go unnoticed. We celebrated Christmas on Thanksgiving Day, because we haven’t had a Christmas together since 2004. I passed along presents from C and her family and received presents for her from everyone else. My Grandma, a woman of many talents, even made clutch purses for C’s mother, sisters-in-law and niece. Funnily enough, Grandma didn’t think C was a clutch-purse kind of gal, but she did get her a nice plaid shirt from American Eagle. My brother and sister-in-law got us matching fleeces and socks. Ironically, I don’t think they know how incredibly lesbian that is, which made it even more endearing.

On the day I returned to the UK, my Grandma told me I must have a screw loose – because why else would I want to live in a cold, rainy country? She told me if I moved back to the USA she would buy me a house and a car, and she wasn’t joking. She misses me desperately – they all do. The short bursts of time we spend together are vital emotional recharges that get us by, but it never seems like enough time. We always feel like we’re saying goodbye.

I’ve never actually spoken to my Grandma about the nature of my relationship with my partner, but I know she understands. She stopped warning me to “Stay Away from Boys” many years ago. Just before I got on the bus to O’Hare, Grandma gave me a big cuddle and said to tell C she was counting down the sleeps until our visit next March, and that we should take care of each other between now and then. While I talk to my Grandma almost every weekend, and we occasionally Skype, moments like that can only ever happen in person.

It’s only recently that I’ve tried to explain to friends and family, and now complete strangers, exactly what it feels like to not be able to go ‘home’. I struggle with finding the words to accurately reflect the layers of emotions around the subject, but I think one of the main reasons it is so hard to get the message across is because most of the people I talk to do not fundamentally understand the significance of the barriers in place. In fact, it’s taken me a long time to really understand these, mostly because the legislative system in the USA is messy and complex.

Please bear with me while I summarise it here. I know this is the boring bit, but it is incredibly important to understand the basic legal context. I’ve kept this as short and simple as possible.

In the US, some issues are regulated at a federal level and some are delegated down to state level.

The basis for the federal government, including how it can create and implement laws, is defined by the US Constitution. In general, the federal government is concerned with issues that transcend state boundaries. For our purposes here, this includes defining federal-level spousal rights, responsibilities and benefits as well as immigration laws.

All 50 states are autonomously governed, which means each has its own constitution and can make their own laws, including those relating to state-level spousal rights, responsibilities and benefits.

In 1996, Bill Clinton signed the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) into law. Section 3 of DOMA defines ‘marriage’ as a legal union between one man and one woman and ‘spouse’ as only a person of the opposite sex. This definition applies to any ruling, regulation or interpretation of federal law. So, when immigration laws permit American citizens or permanent residents to sponsor their spouse to come and live in the US, ‘spouse’ is as defined by DOMA.

DOMA cannot prohibit states from legalising same-sex unions (that would require an amendment to the US Constitution), but it does ‘protect’ states from being ‘forced’ to recognise unions legalised by other states. The issue of same-sex unions is fiercely controversial in the US. At the time of writing, California, Colorado, Connecticut,  Hawaii, Illinois, Iowa, Maine, Maryland, Massachusetts, Nevada, New Hampshire, New York, Oregon, Rhode Island, Vermont, Wisconsin, Washington and the District of Colombia have laws in place that extend spousal rights to same-sex couples in some form.

Regardless of what happens at the state-level, though, DOMA prevents American citizens and permanent residents from sponsoring same-sex partners to come and live in the US.

DOMA was fast-tracked through a Republican-controlled Congress under a Democrat president – not dissimilar from the situation we’re now in following the mid-term elections in November. I voted absentee in that election and made sure to carefully select candidates who reflected my own priorities and values. Unfortunately, not all of my preferred candidates won. At the time I didn’t think much of what the consequences of that actually meant.

So, after coming home from Thanksgiving, I did a bit of research into the people representing me in Congress to see if I could appeal to any of them to advocate for immigration equality for same-sex couples. Here is what I found out:

Representative Tim Johnson (R-Illinois) voted in favour of a Constitutional amendment to prevent recognition of same-sex unions, he voted against laws to protect gays from being discriminated against in employment and he has consistently voted against repealing Don’t Ask Don’t Tell. I don’t think I can really consider him an ally.

There is speculation around newly-elected Senator Mark Kirk’s (R-Illinois) sexuality. He’s made some rather insensitive comments in the past that make me think that, whether he is or isn’t, this speculation is not a good thing. Let’s just say he doesn’t want to fuel the fire by advocating for LGBT issues, so no help there at the moment either.

Senator Dick Durbin (D-Illinois) has a more moderate voting record for LGBT issues. He voted for DOMA, but against amending the Constitution. He’s also a sponsor of the DREAM act, which proposes a route to citizenship for the children of illegal immigrants. I figured if anyone could understand my situation, he was probably my man. So, I wrote him a heartfelt letter...