It has taken me about a week to get this note together, not because of the hurricane, earthquake or any other natural disaster that has swept the east coast, but because I'm afraid I will not be able to do the content justice. On Saturday, Aug. 20, I was walked down the aisle by both of my parents, in front of 200 family members and friends to meet my bride-to-be, Chely Wright; our reverend, Welton Gaddy; and my Aunt Ellen, who was our rabbi for the day. We were living our own American Dream, an interfaith, same-sex wedding on a sunny Saturday in Connecticut.
But little did the crowd of family and friends know—we were already legally married.
With the luck of the draw ( and pre-registering for a N.Y. state marriage license ) , Chely and I were picked to be one of the first couples to be married in New York City. Not wanting to take away from the specialness of our Connecticut wedding, we told no one. But the pull to make history was too great. We wanted in. This was our day. At 8 a.m. on Sunday, July 24, we lined up at City Hall in Manhattan in the extreme heat, with approximately 600 other same-sex couples smiling ear to ear. No one complained about the heat or the five-hour wait to just get into the building. What we experienced on that line was the community that had been fighting for this and other rights for decades.
Chely and I had only been planning our wedding for less than a year—but the handsome couple behind us had been waiting for this for 22 years. A schoolteacher and firefighter from New Jersey, these two gentlemen had stood by each other since the late eighties, seeing friends perish from the AIDS epidemic, experiencing work place discrimination and staying together through it all. They wore purple flowers on their shirts and brought their witnesses, a straight couple who have been their best friends for years. We were surrounded by history.
The overwhelming sense of pride, togetherness, joy and genuine love was beyond what I could have imagined. City Hall employees who were overworked with these new Sunday hours and a crowd bigger than Valentine's Day, didn't seem to mind. Police officers, ordered there for safety, were congratulating couples as they walked by. ONE protester stood with a sign that say "God hates Gays," toting a Bible and screaming from the top of his lungs. He was quickly interrupted by the crowd of supporters clapping and an even larger sign that read "God Loves Gays." In a matter of seconds he was muffled by the homemade sign and outpouring of support.
From the line, to the waiting room, to the Judge who took care in every second of our time together, the day was as it should be, magical. As we exited the courthouse, with our marriage license in my hand, we were welcomed by at least 200 people clapping and screaming for every couple that walked out married. Even writing it now swells my eyes with tears.
The day was not just about us, it was about all the LGBT couples that shared their wedding, stories and sense of community that day. That resonated with us in a deep way. We were married 600 times, we were the couple behind us, we were the oldest couple to get married, we were the youngest—we were all the same.
When it came time to share the day in Connecticut with our friends and family, we wanted to make sure they knew just how important every person there was. How their support and love for us and the LGBT community, is why we move one step closer to full equality everyday. As our traditional "first dance" was about to begin, Chely took the microphone and thanked the crowd for coming. Prior to that day I had suggested that we take some of the tradition out of our wedding and add some of our own new traditions. So began one of the most meaningful moments of our life so far. Chely continued, "Lauren and I have been so inspired by the family and friends who have come here today, and nothing will ever change that. We've also been deeply inspired by so many of the same-sex couples who have joined us, and we would like to not only dedicate our first dance to all of you, but also invite all of the same-sex couples to the dance floor to share our first dance with us."
We did not realize until after that moment, that most of the same-sex couples who were there had never felt comfortable enough to actually dance together at a wedding. That they never felt a sense of comfort or acceptance at a wedding.
It was a sad realization, but one that is about to change drastically.
While Faith in America is not a religious organization and many of us share different beliefs, Chely and I consider spirituality an important part of our lives. I've recently heard some ridiculous theories from religious people—like suggesting gays elicit God's wrath through natural disasters ( a hurricane and earthquake in one week ) . This is what I know—acts of God are unique and beautiful and I experienced two; July 24 and Aug. 20.
Lots of friends have asked us where we are registered and "what can we get you." We have everything we need ( or all that can fit in NYC apartment ) , so we've asked kindly that they show their support for us by supporting Faith in America, by supporting LGBT people everywhere and helping prevent that religious and moral stamp of disapproval being placed on all our friends, supporters and LGBT community members, particularly in North Carolina where the anti-gay marriage amendment is being considered by lawmakers this week.
Lauren Blitzer-Wright is the development director of Faith in America. To make a gift, visit www.faithinamerica.org/donate.
