Showing posts with label gay. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gay. Show all posts

Friday, October 17, 2014

Marriage Equality in Arizona, It's Personal

Marriage equality in Arizona: It’s personal  


Sue Green is a former journalist and the broadcast director of Cronkite News Service at Arizona State University. Four years ago, she married her partner of 15 years.  She first moved to Arizona in 1979.


My father used to tell me how he had to wait years for his marriage to be accepted in every state, but he didn’t say it with pity. He said it with pride because he had to fight for it.. You see he got married in 1961, six years before the Loving vs. Virginia ruling was handed down by the U.S. Supreme Court making it legal for all interracial couples to get married. Just straight couples of course, but hey, it was a step in the right direction.

My parents – a black man from California and a white woman from Liverpool - had a party that weekend to celebrate their freedom, their freedom to go where they wanted and not be afraid they would be turned away because by simply loving each other, they were breaking laws. When they married, only 24 states recognized their marriage. They even had to battle the military to get “permission” to. They met in England in 1959 and, like many G-I’s and British women, they fell in love and wanted to be together, to make a family. They just wanted to get married. But there was nothing logical about it because in more than half the states back home in the U.S., it was against the law.

After being called in to meetings with some of his superiors who spent hours trying to dissuade him, often questioning my mother’s motives, my father stuck by the side of the woman he loved, and the military eventually gave in, having no choice but to allow them to marry. No derogatory words yelled at both my mother and father during these meetings, or even threats, were going to change their minds. They loved each other and wanted to get married like their other friends.

After my mother and father were called into the offices of my dad’s bosses, and my mother called a whore, and threatened with not being able to get a VISA, and my dad being told he had to make a choice, my dad’s superiors realized this tactic would not work, and my father finally got the go-ahead and was told they could marry, but we could never be stationed at any base in any state where “miscegenation” was against the law. We would not be heading South. Quickly, my father agreed and got on the phone with my mother, telling her to grab her wedding dress which had been hanging in her closet for months. He wanted to get to registrar’s office before the military powers that be would change their minds.


That afternoon, they found a preacher, got my mother’s family together, and stood before the priest, God and a handful of friends and committed themselves to each other, regardless of the law in some states. That commitment was as strong the day my father died as it was the day they tied the knot, knowing they faced an uphill battle. But not letting it scare them off.

 Because of the laws against interracial marriages, we could not get orders to be sent to live in any of the states that did not recognize their marriage like Texas or Arizona, but that didn’t matter. My dad said there were plenty of other places that would accept him, his white wife and bi-racial child. We were eventually sent to California, and I quickly came along, followed 14 months later by my sister, and 14 month’s later by my brother.



 This interracial family with four young children who couldn’t have looked more different sort of stood out on the base. It seemed as if when we came out one after the other we got lighter and our hair got straighter. My brother could easily have passed for white, but not the rest of us. But while some people might have called us names, it didn’t bother us. We lived in a house where we knew our parents really wanted us, and were even willing to break the law to have us. How many people could say that?! We sort of lived in this safety cocoon at least while we lived on that base in California.

Then in 1967 everything changed. The Supreme Court said my parent’s marriage had to be recognized, and we were no longer “bastards” as some had called us. We were legal, everywhere.  At that point in my life, little did I know that fighting for marriage equality was far from over for me, that it was to become somewhat of a tradition for me.


  

You see, some 46 years later I found myself facing the same challenges my parents had faced when I decided to marry the woman of my dreams. My marriage to Robin Phillips was only legal in so many states, and many people told us don’t do it, it’s not worth the trouble, it will never be recognized. Sound familiar? Even Robin, my partner at the time had refused my marriage proposals several times when I asked her to marry me because she said she didn’t want to get married until all states would recognize it.



It wasn’t until I had to have a life threatening surgery that she finally gave in, married me, and wiped my sloppy tears as the minister conducted our ceremony on the beach in Provincetown, Mass., one of the few states that would recognize my marriage.

I didn’t realize how important this was to me until we signed our marriage license application and I realized this was how my parents felt, signing that paper, knowing that not everyone would recognize their marriage, but knowing they would, and that’s all that counted. It didn’t mater if it was just the two of us, or the 300 million people in the country, I just wanted to be married to Robin, and I didn’t care what the courts, lawmakers, voters or anyone else had to say about it. I knew that In Massachusetts I was “legal” and I was going to be legally married somewhere.

I felt my parents by my side even though they were not physically there as the wedding day arrived.  Robin, myself, the minister and two new friends stood there as we said our vows, heartfelt vows that summed up what we felt in the past, what we felt in that moment and what we were sure to feel in the future when the entire world would recognize what our small group of friends and family recognized, that we were now married.


Robin and I are lucky, we came home from our wedding and our neighbors had decorated our house. Before Pete and June knew us, they did not have friends who were gay, but after getting to know us as just “regular” people, they knew how important it was that we come home to Arizona, a state that did not recognize same sex marriage, and let us know they were with us. Heck, let the entire neighborhood know! Two other friends, Mark and Val, asked if they could throw us a wedding party. We have incredibly supportive family and friends, and we are just waiting for the day when they get to celebrate our “fully fledged marriage” with us, and not in just the 30 states where it is recognized.

I can go into the many legal reasons this is so important, but on this day, a day I was afraid I would never see before I passed, I would rather just spend the time thanking my family and friends for their support, the love of my wife Robin who has seen me through some tough times the past few years, the many people who I don’t know but who have fought to give Robin and I these rights, and my mother and father, those 63 years ago who taught me that it doesn’t matter if everyone agrees with you. If your love is strong enough it will be strong enough to survive all the hurtful words, and looks and comments over the years.



 They taught me that it was also my responsibility to the many who might not be as strong, and together as Robin and I have been strong enough to wait together, arm in arm not just with each other but our friends and family for this day, this day when our home state of Arizona is forced to recognize our marriage.

So, I say Thank You to all the people before me who have fought for the basic rights to be married, and those after who will continue to fight for others. Because what I have found is that love is indeed enough to see you through the tough times, and it is an amazing love that hopefully will help those who might not agree with these decisions to remember we are people with hearts and feelings, and if you can’t support us, at least respect the idea that we love each other as much as you might love the person you are with.

I thank the 9th Circuit Court for falling on the side of those who support the idea that all people are created equal, and are willing to stand behind those words. While I wish that the voters of Arizona had had another chance to make this decision, I am happy that the court at least has seen that here in Arizona, Robin and I are like any other married couple. I thank you for helping me to once again have a reason for thanking my mother and father for showing me that no matter how difficult the journey, it is well worth each step of the way because you meet the most amazing and incredible people. Along the journey They might not always agree with everything you say, but they are good people, and they will amaze you at times when they stand up for you, so you remember to stand up for those who need your support.

     

Monday, April 1, 2013

Love the side show


junior pride, originally uploaded by RobinJP.

This young lady had a great time at the Pride in the Pines Festival in Flagstaff a few years ago.

And I enjoyed watching her sideshow more than the main attraction.

The 17th Annual Pride in the Pines Festival is scheduled for June 15, 2013. Events, entertainment, etc.: FlagstaffPride.org


Robin, Flagstaff

Thursday, October 11, 2012

What's National Coming Out Day
mean to someone who was never really In?

I've been Out so long.

I  have such a super strong network of friends, colleagues, fellow journalists, gay and straight alike.

And I have always had support and love from family.  My partner (my wife in Massachusetts) and I are very lucky, we know that.  But sometimes I forget that there are many lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgendered people who do not feel as safe and loved and supported as I feel.

National Coming Out Day is for them.  And maybe not in the way you'd think.

I share these words from Joshua Owen who posted them on his Tumblr: Joshua Owen.  He said it best.


NATIONAL COMING OUT DAY

On this day we need to remember that the meaning of National Coming Out Day (NCOD) is not about ‘outing’ someone or pressuring any one to disclose a deeper part of themselves to the world.
Today is a day to stand together as a unified force; Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgendered and our allies to reflect upon how far we have come and how far we need to continue.  So that those still not ready to disclose themselves see the world as a safe place to one day make that decision and stand with us. 
I am out and proud and here to listen if any of you ever need a safe place to share.

Robin, Tempe

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Two-stepping on a Saturday night

Prof Green and I went dancing last night.

You may think we're hip and happening, but we really don't hit the clubs very often. Last night, we had fun though. And a lot of it was watching the other dancers.

My Perfect Moment was watching one young couple. We were at a country bar that mixed up R&B, hip-hop, funk, pop, and country. My favorite moment was watching one very young couple dressed in what, back in the day, we would've called Goth: both in tight black T-shirts, black cargo shorts, dyed black hair, lots of tattoos.

I noticed them slip-sliding around the floor to some techno song and when it was over, they stayed to do a little Texas two-step with the rest of them.

They fell into step with all the Country Western dancers: Step forward, Touch, Step backward, Touch, Walk Walk, Flip that straight black hair. Just perfect.

Robin, Tempe

Sunday, October 11, 2009

I'm taking Obama's gay speech personally

President Barack Obama speaks to HRC from Bret Carbone on Vimeo.


On Saturday night, President Obama spoke to a huge ballroom of people -- mostly wealthy gay Americans -- on the eve of the National Equality March on Washington.

His speech, which was as strong as any of his best during the Presidential campaign, moved me to tears.

Nine months into his Presidency, Obama was taking care of business. He vowed to get rid of Don't Ask, Don't Tell. He called on Congress to repeal the Defense of Marriage Act. He talked about our families and our love.

He stressed "unwavering" commitment to our political cause. Yet he told the crowd that it was no secret "our progress may be taking longer than we like."

Gay activists immediately began pointing out that they'd heard it all before and wanted much more of a timeline from him at this stage.

But, come on. His words warmed me. And I'm happy to indulge myself in that good feeling.

The President of the United States was reaching far beyond that ballroom. He was talking to gay people all across America. He was saying things, in a way that seemed sincere and comfortable, that most of us don't even hear from our families, those who love us the most.

The President of the United States told us:

"We will see a time in which we as a nation finally recognize relationships between two men or two women as just as real and admirable as relationships between a man and a woman."

I'm happy to take those words very personally and forget the political for a while.

Robin, Tempe

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Love Deb & Rene. Hate cancer.




Bald really is beautiful.




Our friend Deb, who is fighting cancer, lost her hair last week. At Sunday morning's Hair Coming Out Party, her friends gathered around to kiss her sexy dome. And what a perfect noggin she has.



Deb and Rene are reading 'Crazy Sexy Cancer' by Kris Carr. I think of Deb when I read Carr's words:

“What I’m saying is that we are still empowered. We are still alive and whole. I might have cancer, but I’m dealing with it and I’m still all that. The most important thing is to have a voice and use it."


You shout it out, Deb.

(Natty umbrella hat provided by Deb's loving uncle.)

Robin & Sue, Tempe

Friday, July 3, 2009

David Lynch's Interview Project .. 3-day tick-tock



David Lynch has started a project to interview people and post a video every three days for a year.

Jess was his first interview. A Vietnam vet originally from Colorado, Jess was found sitting by the side of the road.

The Interview Project started in early June. I am hooked. Will keep watching. Certain to be plenty of Perfect (and not quite so) Moments.


Jess was waiting by the side of the road, getting his trailer fixed so he could go live alone in the desert.

After meeting Jess in California, the interview team heads east through Arizona.

They meet Kee in Tuba City, Arizona. His story is powerful. Native American and gay and proud and alive. Talk about an outsider.

Haven't seen an interview with a woman yet, but there's a month full waiting for me this weekend. I'll savor them. Seems like a perfect thing to do on the Fourth of July.

Robin, Tempe

Monday, December 1, 2008

World Aids Day: They call her Mom


There are many ways to help... but this is one we know.. one woman helping kids in South Africa. If you would like to help her out or see what she's doing, check out The Village Safe Haven.


Today is World Aids day, a chance for all of us to take a second out of our day and acknowledge that we still have a huge problem on our hands, and it’s going to take all of us to solve it. I know, I know, that seems a bit overwhelming, but the thing to remember is that we have to break it down and just do what we can, as individuals to try and deal with all the victims of this deadly virus. And today we wanted to introduce you to a very special woman.

Earlier this week we told you the story of one woman named Susan Harris. We met her this summer when we took a group of Arizona State University students to South Africa as part of a project to document the refugee crisis.



It was the most amazing experience, listening to people’s stories, getting the chance to share their stories with the people in America. But it was Susan’s story that really resonated with us. Her story was one of unselfishness.

She had opened her home and her arms to the littlest victims of the AIDS crisis, children who had lost their parents, and at times were found wandering the streets, with nothing and no one to take care of them. ...



But Susan decided that she could do something as one person. She has changed the lives of so many children who walk through her doors. She doesn’t have much to offer in terms of physical things, but what she does have to offer is love, a huge hug and a safe place.

We spoke with her a few days ago and she told us she has taken in even more children since we saw her. Below is the story that my student Jen Wahl produced about Susan and her quest to save these children one at a time.


She has set up an organization to help with the care of these children, as well as others in the community in South Africa where she lives. If you would like to help out Susan and her kids, please check out her site.

See more stories from the trip to Africa and the stories told by broadcast students from Arizona State University at South Africa at the crossroads of hate and hope.

Thank You,

Sue, Tempe

Saturday, October 11, 2008

Coming out is not just for gay people



Just ask Tyler! Isn't this guy great?

I've been out for 26 years. Tyler, obviously not that long. But it is the same for both of us. And for us all.

A lifelong process.

Today is National Coming Out Day. A to share and show support no matter what your sexuality.

Gay rights are equal rights. Diversity is who we are, what we are and what we stand for.



We're one house. We're one people. We're one family.

Beth Kerrigan and Jody Mock got word this week that their battle to get married was won. Connecticut's Supreme Court recognized gay marriage. They would be able to continue in their efforts to do what so many people want to do.. to create a supportive, loving, secure family life for their children and for themselves.

Their very public battle to get the state to say 'Yes!' then turned into a private moment of jubilation. They were overwhelmed.

And, thanks to the Hartford Courant, we get to watch it. Kerrigan/Mock: Take a look.

Funny thing...

I thought this blog was going to be about Tyler and coming out and how sexuality is as much a part of life for gay, straight and anyone else as race is as much a part of life for Whites, Blacks, Asian, Hispanic, etc, etc.

But it turned out to be about those two strong women and the Perfect Moment they had this week when they were finally able to propose.

Robin, Tempe

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Old haunts and rainy days in New York


Four days. And three trips to the ATM. Then it was time to head home ... get a job ... or win the power ball.

We used to live in New York and right over the river in Weekhawken... a little town not only really fun to say but also the closest suburb of Manhattan (even if it is in New Jersey).

Now we go back for short visits, quick trips to do some business, see friends, and get recharged.

Funny how a place so big and not really my own can bring such comfort.

I grew up on the road as an Air Force brat and then in a bedroom suburb of Denver for the really disorienting teenage years.

But I worked in and around New York for 16 years. Perhaps those were the years I really grew up.

Whatever the draw, I love going back to New York.. of course I really mean Manhattan.. to just wander.

We did that last week on a rainy weekend. Food, music, friends. Those were the goals ... and RAIN.

Ok, ok. The perfect moment? Breathing in the dirt-and-rain smells, watching my sweetie's happy eyes when she got to stop at Gray's Papaya for a bite and taking a snap of the place we had our first date.



We giggled as we remembered sitting close, watching 'All the Pretty Horses,' trying not to accidentally touch hands. We stood across the street from the theater laughing about the electric charge that crackled between us even on that first movie date.

... and crackles still eight years on.

Robin, Tempe

Sunday, September 21, 2008

Are you ready for some football?


You bet your sweet bupkus I am! And I have decided to watch hour upon hour of football today laid out on my couch. I am officially declaring today a "slug day".



So, you might be asking yourself what a slug day is. Well, technically it means I have decided I will do the bare basic chores, only take a shower if I "really" need to, order out my meals so I only have to get up from the couch to answer the door. In all, it means a day of self indulgence, a day to do the least amount of work possible.

I don't do this often, but when i do decide to have a slug day, I announce it so everyone knows what to expect. This isn't the day I will be doing any ironing, or any cleaning up in the kitchen, or killing the weeds in the yard, or cleaning the spots on the carpet. Oh no, this is a day of nothing, just me, the couch and the remote.

You've got to treat yourself sometime! Have yourself a slug day, and do nothing, the way you want to do it! This is one of my perfect moments!

Sue, Tempe

Sunday, August 24, 2008

Is that a Blackberry in your pocket...




... or are you just happy to see me?


I just returned from 5 days at a convention in Washington D.C. And that puts an end to a crazy summer.. too much travel.. too much time alone at home.

My baby took trips this summer to South Africa and Chicago. I went to Denver and D.C.

We learned about love and the art of texting. Although not as good as being there, texting is better than trying to figure out time zones and trading voice mails until you happen to hit a time when you're both awake and free to talk.

But nothing's as good as the real thing...



A few hours ago, she was waiting for me at baggage claim. And tonight we are at home together. And the next trip is one we'll take together. My Perfect Moment.

Robin, Tempe, Arizona

Sunday, March 16, 2008

22 years ago today

My life felt finally on track, but the future was definitely uncertain.

I had lived abroad, gotten married, been divorced, found a new love, taken a loooong time to finish my BA and was about to move from Hawaii to Denver in search of work.

An outsider (or family member) might have blamed much of the upheaval in my life on the fact that I had figured out that I am gay.

Recognizing that about myself at 27 brought me ...


a feeling of peacefulness, of ‘coming home’ as I put it at the time. But it also threw parts of my life into turmoil. My seven-year marriage wasn’t going to survive. Who do I tell? Who do I not? What do I want to do with the rest of my life? What doors have just opened, which ones have just shut?

Would I ever have kids?

Oh sure, Time magazine had just done a huge piece on how gay was the new black and through adoption, artificial insemination, or even the old-fashioned way, everything is possible. But would I ever have kids? And, really, did I want them. In a straight marriage, there is an assumption that, of course, you’re going to have kids sometime… whether you want to or not. But since I was rewriting my script, I got to ask, Do I want kids?

No rush to answer that one. I felt pretty much like most 27-year-old women in the 80s. I had plenty of time.

All that was swirling around me on this morning 22 years ago. My oldest brother and his girlfriend had given birth two days before to their first baby, a boy, the first child in our next generation, my first nephew.


I now have three nephews and three nieces and, no, I didn’t have any kids myself, and I’m still loving that. But 22 years ago today, my brother brought home tiny Andrew.

“Will you call him Andy?”

“Dunno, have to see…. here hold him.”

“Really? .. uh, ok.”

He was 2 days old. Really tiny. Very calm. And, as I sat with him nestled in my arm, drinking a small bottle of water, his dark eyes locked on mine. He pulled me into his calm.

Our little world was at peace. We were family. It was a perfect moment. Happy Birthday, Andrew.

Robin, Tempe, Arizona
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