I gay married my friends

Emily Mills

Emily Mills

— 8 min read
Two simple gold wedding bands on top of a rainbow Pride-colored fabric.

For love, for resistance, for revolution.

Vol. 66

IN THIS ISSUE: Essay | Take Action | Now Read This | Final Frame

I got an out-of-the-blue text early last week from a friend, J: “Do you know anybody who is legally ordained as an officiant? My partner and I are looking to do this real quick, like before Pride month quick, like before the Supreme Court can take it away quick.”

The question took my breath away, but it also didn’t feel paranoid at all. Because these are the real threats we’re living with every day. "What stage of authoritarian/fascist backsliding is my country in today?" I ask myself. What fresh hell has been unleashed by the Supreme Court, or an unhinged blog post masquerading as an Executive Order? What a time to be alive.

I decided right then to get ordained so I could make sure my friends got their day ASAP, as requested, and because I wanted to be there for it. They’ve been together for over a decade. Despite them not wanting anything fancy, and planning a larger celebration for a later time, I felt it was important to make sure their officiant understood that the moment was meaningful and not simply perfunctory. Not totally just a reaction to a political threat.

Plus, as a little bonus, I was amused to think about what my dearly-departed minister father would say about my having only to spend a few minutes filling out an internet form to become ordained, versus his years of Divinity School. I think he’d find it more funny than annoying--maybe.

And so it was that I found myself in the backyard of a modest home in a small town outside of Madison this past Saturday, getting teary-eyed as we ran through an extremely short but very sweet ceremony. It was sunny and breezy and a little chilly and I’d walked into a rowdy but friendly gathering of the two grooms’ immediate families and one very enthusiastic dog–who photobombed the moment, to everyone’s delight.

It’s still incredible to this ‘80’s baby that gay marriage is even legal. I’ve vowed never to take that for granted. I know how much work and struggle and sacrifice it took to get here. I've heard the stories from those who went before who were denied any access to or say over their beloved's end-of-life care, funeral, financials, home, etc. because they couldn't access legal marriage.

I remember commitment ceremonies and civil unions and the gut-punch of the 2006 Wisconsin Constitutional Amendment explicitly banning same-sex marriage, and then the massive, almost bewildered celebrations on the steps of Madison’s City Hall back in June 2014 when, for a week, gay marriage suddenly became legal in the state (before finally becoming legal in all 50 states with the Obergefell ruling) and couples raced to marry. Many of them had been together for decades, never expecting to have their commitments legally recognized.

Even more incredible is that public opinion shifted so swiftly during that time. Us queers can be forgiven for feeling a bit of whiplash about the whole thing.

Still, as good as the win was (and is), there were many of us who eyed the hyper-focus only on gay marriage as a dangerous tack for the LGBTQ rights movement to take. So much fundraising and capacity-building focused on something that largely benefitted cis, able-bodied white gay people. I recall, back then, more than a few people voicing concern that all of this would come at the expense of trans folks, disabled queer and trans folks, people of color - because legal marriage is set up to exclude or simply be unavailable to so many. And sure enough, once gay marriage was the law of the land, it felt like the (philanthropic) wind went right out of the sails of those large, well-monied gay rights organizations. And then the Rightwing turned its bitter glare on those among us left vulnerable and–honestly, mostly abandoned–by the rich white gays who felt like they had their rights.

They started by coming for trans peoples’ right to use the correct bathroom, and when that failed, turned to strategies that were easier to get the public to misunderstand and support - trans sports bans and bans on medically necessary care for minor children. But they never planned to stop there. These have all been test runs (albeit really damaging in themselves) to further expand the crusade to roll back the modest gains of the LGBTQ rights movement in the past half-century and, eventually, remove LGBTQ people from public life entirely.

So it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when Justice Clarence Thomas wrote in his concurring opinion to the destruction of Roe v. Wade that he would also like the Supreme Court to reverse course on both the right to same-sex intimacy and same-sex marriage, among other things. Republicans in nine states have introduced resolutions in 2025 asking the Supreme Court to undo Obergefell. They are, essentially, a party and a movement dedicated to removing privacy rights and bodily and reproductive autonomy from anyone who isn't a straight, cis, Christian white man.

Legally, it will be an incredibly uphill battle for the GOP to take down same-sex marriage, and there are other laws in place to help protect it (somewhat) even if Obergefell falls.

On the other hand, if there’s one thing Trump 2.0 loves more than anything, it’s throwing norms and laws out the window in service of their cruel agenda. Example: SCOTUS just agreed that transgender people can be barred from serving in the military based solely on prejudice. Later this year, the Trump-stacked court will also rule in U.S. vs. Skrmetti, a case that will decide whether or not states can ban gender-affirming care for trans youth, and things don’t look good.

My friends aren’t the only ones deciding to get married–or whether or not they can stay in their homes at all--out of fear of the threat posed by the current regime, either. It's a lot. It's too much. But we fight on.

I let myself feel love and joy for my friends on that sunny morning, as they held hands and kissed and their families looked on and cheered. It was a beautiful moment, made all the more so because I’ve known them for a long while, and they have already been committed to each other in all the ways that really count, no matter what any government could say or do. I felt honored to bear witness.

But it is deeply strange to constantly be reminded that so many people with power still feel compelled to politicize and attack our relationships. And that this is a very real, very reasonable consideration for same-sex couples in this day and age to make. It shouldn’t have to be. We didn’t start the fight, but you can be sure as hell that we’ll be counter-punching with all our might until the final bigot is knocked down for good. And we’ll keep on queerly loving and supporting each other while we do.

Congrats to J & B. Your love–queer love–is always an act of resistance and radical possibility. Even when it’s also gloriously mundane. 

Take Action.

“Here is a specific thing you can do to fight Trump's politicization of public services” [Don Moynihan]

Take the time you would have spent complaining about politics online, and use it to write a comment opposing the proposed Office of Personnel Management rule to politicize public services. You can do it in 5 minutes. Deadline is May 23rd!

Meanwhile, there’s a lot of bad legislation up for a vote this week, much of it as part of the so-called “One Big Beautiful Bill” Act, which is the budget reconciliation bill, aka MAGA Republican wet dream. Calling your Congresspeople is the best method for getting the message across that this shit won’t fly. Find their numbers/contact info here or use the 5 Calls page linked below to get rolling. Pro tip: If phone calls make you nervous, write down what you want to say and read that to the staffer who answers and/or into the voicemail. It really makes a difference!

On the docket:

Now Read This.

“You haven’t actually failed” [Garrett Bucks]

You all, I’m overwhelmed by a feeling right now– and though of course I’m livid at the liars who taught us to believe falsehood–  it’s not just rage. It’s grace. For myself, for you, for all of us. Of course we haven’t yet built the neighborhoods and towns and cities we deserve. Of course we haven’t turned back the tide of society’s most persistent malevolent forces. Of course we go to one meeting, find that it’s boring or that we don’t immediately connect with the people, and give ourselves permission to skip the next one. We were told that all this would be easy, and it isn’t.

“Netanyahu: Gaza Aid Scheme Offers Israel Symbolic Cover to Finish the Genocide” [Jeremy Scahill at Drop Site News]

Benjamin Netanyahu has made it clear: His decision to allow a minuscule amount of aid to enter Gaza is a tactical one aimed at quieting international condemnation of Israel’s forced starvation of Gaza and to clear the path of a final solution imposed on the Palestinians of Gaza.

“Libraries, Criminalization and Organizing” [Mariame Kaba at Prison, Prose & Protest]

As I’ve said, public libraries are important sites of struggle. Everything about them is political. My grounded love of libraries is rooted in the certainty that were people to say in 2025 that we should build places in rural and urban areas across the country where people can come to learn to read, use computers to apply for jobs, enjoy free cultural programming, collect seeds they can use to grow their own food and information on how to do so, check out office supplies, musical instruments, artwork, cake pans, snow shovels, and sometimes even prom dresses, borrow passes to local museums & other local cultural institutions, receive resources and assistance to connect with their family and local histories —all programs that public libraries offer—not to mention taking home books and audiobooks and dvds for free, they would be considered heretics—or at the very least naive and unrealistic.

“I regret to inform the United States of America that it is stuck with me for the foreseeable future” [Garrett Bucks at The White Pages]

We are not the main characters. We are sharers of space. Some of us have a choice to stay or leave, but not all of us. What we all have in common though, is our ability to make a whole slew of other choices. How wide to open our arms. Who we welcome in. What life looks like in the million ‘here’s’ that we still get to build together, wherever we land.

Final Frame.

Three people stand on a stage, two of them holding the Transgender Pride Flag, and the other on their knees and playing a very large keytar.
My good buds in Kat and the Hurricane, rocking hard at our shared gig last weekend and waving the flag of our people.

‘Til Next Time.

I love us. Stay here. Keep fighting. Free Palestine.

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