#and their marriage...

[fideidefenswhore]

I hope this isn't stupid, but did Henry really do the Great Matter the right way? I just feel if he'd used a normal argument instead of making it a religion problem it'd be easier for him. If he said "I have no son, so I want to make a new marriage and get one, to protect my people from war" then wasn't that a reason other kings had, and they got annulments? That would be just a fact and everyone at the time knew no son had problems. Sure Catherine would still fight but she couldn't really say he was wrong. But instead if he says it's all Leviticus and God's mad it gives her the out to say she never slept with Arthur so God's not counting that as a real marriage. Then Henry has to say she's lying and so she looks the injured party and right to be offended, and nobody knows what to believe so it just drags out hoping someone dies.

Precedentially and in hindsight, making it a "religion problem" might not have been the best course; but I think it was genuinely his belief and also he had been so highly respected as "Defender of the Faith" (literally) up to that point that he saw an opportunity for fame and acclaim in (what he believed to be) the "righteousness" of his case, and a way to shore up the image, power, and prestige of the English monarchy; even when it became clear it would be one from a position of defiance. We have to place his belief in the context of his acclaim as a scholar and theologian up through the 1520s...it was bold, but so was Henry, and while the common narrative is that his case was facile; after further reading I found that to be reductive:

"In Henry’s obsession with an idiosyncratic interpretation of natural law and his apparent indifference to the strength of his own case on Deuteronomy we may discern a litigant who seems determined to snatch defeat from the jaws of possible victory. Nevertheless it is hard to resist the conclusion that the biblical texts themselves support Henry’s claim that his marriage contravened divine law as expounded by Moses. [...] In the field of legal codes Henry’s view, whether treated as a matter of divine or human law, held a strong position. Among other examples the Council of Neo-Caesarea and the regional Council of Agde followed the Levitical injunction by forbidding the marriage of men to their brothers’ widows. Faced with such arguments, Bishop Fisher usually asserted that the prohibitions did not specifically forbid all dispensations – yet nor did they specifically allow any. As on the Leviticus/Deuteronomy dilemma, Fisher reasoned that in cases of ambiguity the pope should interpret the matter. Yet such a papal interpretation had been given by Innocent III in a rider to his judgement on the Livonian issue discussed below: that, whatever the validity of pagan marriages to which the Deuteronomical exception might apply, a man’s marriage to the widow of a deceased childless brother should not be permitted to baptised Christians." HADWIN JF. Leviticus, Deuteronomy and Henry VIII. The Journal of Ecclesiastical History. 2019

I don't think there's really anything he could've done to assure a 'secure' outcome, tbh (besides the possible counterfactual of applying for an annulment circa, say, 1520 rather than 1527, he did seem to have a better understanding and alliance with Leo X). The final judgement from Clement was that Henry had lived too long in matrimony with Catherine by principle of the dispensation granted to be able to legitimately protest the dispensation.

Precedent ran against Henry in the specific matter of Popes erasing former dispensations. That was not something they had done; but arguably Popes did reverse decisions of their predecessors in other matters, or sometimes reverse their own decisions-- there are many cases, for instance, of Popes granting annulments and then reversing them. This can make better sense of Henry's decision to reify the legitimacy of both his annulment with Catherine and his marriage with Anne via Parliament, even before the Pope has made declaration (because, even if he had made one in his favour, it might not have stuck...the sands were always shifting, too, even if, say, Clement had died without declaration and his successor had been an anti-Imperial candidate, like the later Paul IV, that did rule in his favour, was it not possible he himself would die and his successor reverse that decision? It is plausible to consider, also, a counterfactual where Henry made his application late 1525 or 1526, had it granted January 1527, and Imperial troops stormed as they did by May, pressurizing Clement to reverse...):

"And here it must be acknowledged that, while a substantial case could be built to support Henry’s challenge on the issue of the bull, the fact of that issue had significantly changed the situation and the canonical context within which it might be viewed. On the question of possible rescission of the bull the critics seem to have been right: on balance, precedent would appear to run against the king. Neither a dissolution nor an annulment would seem likely to have been granted. No previous marriage had been ended on the grounds that a pope had acted ultra vires; nor, as David d’Avray notes, ‘was any dispensation to my knowledge … ever revoked because the alleged political ills that it was meant to cure were later shown to be imaginary’. The application of the principle of dissimulatio – the turning of a blind eye to the legal weaknesses of a long-standing union in view of the greater good that would accrue by leaving well alone – could also have favoured the queen’s cause; a similar canonical rule held that ‘doubtful cases ought to be resolved in favour of the marriage’. Most significant of all might be the maxim asserted by Gilles Bellemère in the count of Armagnac’s case, that if the pope asks for advice before taking action, he should be told that the dispensation should not be granted; however, if he has already acted, then he should not be opposed. Thus, even if Henry had succeeded in convincing an impartial court of the impropriety of Julius II’s granting the dispensation, all [of his] lengthy campaign might well have gained him not that triumphant solution for which he had striven but merely the cold comfort of a Pyrrhic victory." HADWIN JF. Leviticus, Deuteronomy and Henry VIII. The Journal of Ecclesiastical History. 2019

And, that's actually a misconception; it was probably the predominant of his arguments/case, but hardly the only one or aspect:

"Like many other litigants, Henry adopted a ‘scatter-fire’ approach to his task of seeking an annulment, attacking a vast array of targets, hoping that at least one shot might reach its mark. His opponents tended to follow suit, thus a comprehensive analysis of each pellet might seem desirable to do the parties full justice. This has not been attempted in the present study. Instead it has seemed best to concentrate on three of the most serious and most often cited defences of the queen’s case, those based on the questions Henry asked of the universities in 1530-1, thus setting the agenda for the debate. The first of these was that, while forbidden by the texts of Leviticus, marriage to a brother’s widow was prohibited by the Church only if the previous marriage had been consummated, whereas Katherine insisted that she came to Henry 'virgo intacta'. Secondly, it was argued that the Levitical prohibition should be interpreted as being limited by the command in Deuteronomy requiring a man to marry a childless brother’s widow, exactly what Henry had done. Lastly, the king’s critics cited a number of what they considered relevant precdents for the dispensation granted to Henry and Katherine by papal bull in 1503.

Each [argument of the Queen's side] appears to have serious weaknesses. The strict application of canonical procedures in the case would appear to favour a verdict that Arthur and Katherine had indeed consummated their union. On Deuteronomy, not only had the Church generally regarded the command as obsolete and inapplicable to Christians but the contentious verse does not on close examination cover Henry’s case at all. Finally, none of the oft-cited papal dispensations involved a clear-cut breach of the Levitical injunctions: the bull really does seem to have broken new ground and might not have been issued had all the facts been known." HADWIN JF. Leviticus, Deuteronomy and Henry VIII. The Journal of Ecclesiastical History. 2019

Royals being anti or pro papal tended to be a matter of political timing, and this wasn't unique to Henry VIII. Hell, Mary I's spouse was excommunicated (not just threatened with excommunication, as her father had been circa the Great Matter era) by Paul IV because he had sent the Duke of Alva to occupy the papal states in retaliation for his alliance with France, and deprived her councilor and Archbishop of Cantebury, Reginald Pole, of his legateship and ordered him to return to Rome to answer charges of heresy ; and she chose to defend them rather than repudiate them in kind.

So, for the matter of claiming Catherine wasn't a virgin when he married her...I don't think he anticipated that she'd confess otherwise to Campeggio and unseal the confession; or use the trial of Blackfriars for the opportunity to repeat her own claim otherwise and then refuse to attend the rest of the hearing of evidence. For the hearing in Dunstable in 1533, she refused to attend, as well, and so did her supporters, so there's some revionism in the narrative that the Henrician side of the divide refused to hear her own evidence and supporters. They clearly did not regard it highly; arguably they gave it short shrift, but the political tactic of refusing to acknowledge the legitimacy of any proceedings or hearings outside strict papal jurisdiction (not that all of Catherine's supporters adhered so strictly to that, when it suited them...see: Trial of Zaragoza) by Catherine and her supporters precludes the accusation, reified by Marian Parliament, that Henry and Cranmer "refused to hear evidence" from oppostion. This was a convenient fiction, underrating agency and choice and emphasizing a narrative of corruption vs "godly truth".

But at the same time, I think that aspect of it was a matter of principle for both of them and yet a nothingburger both legally and politically: it was impossible to prove or disprove. There was ambiguity on the matter because the dispensaton covered any possibility ("forsan"); even Clement's declaration did not really fully vindicate her side because he didn't comment on the matter of her virginity upon her marriage to Henry. It was, ultimately, a non sequitur. Henry pursued it because he vehemently believed it was true, and that the proof was in his deceased children by the marriage, that they had died because of the Levitical 'curse', for lack of better word...

And Henry had legal/canonical precedent on his side (see excerpt from JF Hadwin's excellent article on the case above, and this one: "[...] the canonical procedures for determining non-consummation suits would have worked against her. As in any such dispute, witnesses were questioned. Not surprisingly, their stories differed according to their nationality: like the decisions of the universities this was a case of what Hans Thieme delightfully described as cuius regio, eius opinio. English ones remembered a raunchy young prince boasting of his having ‘been this night in the midst of Spain’. Most of the interrogation records of the queen’s Spanish servants have been lost, but they seem to have agreed with the implications of the leading questions that they were fed by recollecting only an immature wimp. Canonical rules, however, held that in such controversies, the husband’s view was to be preferred to the wife’s. Furthermore, in the absence of sound evidence to the contrary, in any marriage that had lasted more than a few days, consummation [would] be presumed. This is why neither Mendoza, the Spanish ambassador, nor his successor, Chapuys, was enthusiastic about Katherine’s claim and probably why Campeggio felt relief that the question was not to be argued at Rome. As Gardiner had warned the queen earlier, presumption would run against her: rightly or wrongly, in any court operating under standard canonical rules and procedures, she would probably have lost this argument."), but not circumstance.

My unpopular judgement is that Henry was actually far more judicious in his timing of the Great Matter than he's given credit for; as early as 1529 he's saying he's "about to undertake the annates", he delays the cessation of paying the annates until Easter 1533; he waits to pass the Act of Kings alone nominating Archbishops and consecrating bishops until Cranmer is elected Archbishop by the Pope (a fait accompli, because it does mean that Cranmer's annulment of his marriage can be viewed as an act of the papacy, by extension; and forces Clement's hand...arguably this backfired, but not fully, he did not excommunicate Cranmer, probably because doing that to someone he had so recently promoted would call his judgement into question); and he doesn't pass the Act in Absolute Restraint of Annates until 1534, after Clement declares for the validity of his marriage with Catherine. Was the timing different (annates are forbidden by law irrevocably, and then Clement declared for the marriage), one could argue otherwise (that Henry had been too hasty); but Clement could've secured annates from England for the rest of Henry's reign had he done the opposite, or possibly delayed their total annihilation had he just continued to not declare on the matter.

[lgbtlunaverse]

The world exists in such a baffling state of simultaneous sex-aversion and sex-hegemony. Every social platform on the internet is trying to banish sex workers to the shadow realm but I can't post a tweet without at least two bots replying P U S S Y I N B I O. People are self-censoring sex to seggs and $3× but every other ad you see is still filled with half-naked women. Rightwingers want queer people arrested for so much as existing in the same postal code as a child and are also drumming up a moral panic about how teenage boys aren't getting laid enough. I feel like I'm losing my mind.

[politijohn]

Source

Happy Pride Month!

[allthebooksandcrannies]

Good news in the world!!! Read the article here.

The law also will extend adoption and inheritance rights to same-sex couples!

[canisalbus]

Trying to figure out modern Ludovica.

[sarakipin]

Happy One Year Anniversary my Love 10.29.23

[fortpeat]

At long last 🌈🥹🥹

[bragginball-z]

Canon

[therealbeachfox]

Twenty years ago, February 15th, 2004, I got married for the first time.

It was twenty years earlier than I ever expected to.

To celebrate/comemorate the date, I'm sitting down to write out everything I remember as I remember it. No checking all the pictures I took or all the times I've written about this before. I'm not going to turn to my husband (of twenty years, how the f'ing hell) to remember a detail for me.

This is not a 100% accurate recounting of that first wild weekend in San Francisco. But it -is- a 100% accurate recounting of how I remember it today, twenty years after the fact.

Join me below, if you would.

2004 was an election year, and much like conservatives are whipping up anti-trans hysteria and anti-trans bills and propositions to drive out the vote today, in 2004 it was all anti-gay stuff. Specifically, preventing the evil scourge of same-sex marriage from destroying everything good and decent in the world.

Enter Gavin Newstrom. At the time, he was the newly elected mayor of San Francisco. Despite living next door to the city all my life, I hadn’t even heard of the man until Valentines Day 2004 when he announced that gay marriage was legal in San Francisco and started marrying people at city hall.

It was a political stunt. It was very obviously a political stunt. That shit was illegal, after all. But it was a very sweet political stunt. I still remember the front page photo of two ancient women hugging each other forehead to forehead and crying happy tears.

But it was only going to last for as long as it took for the California legal system to come in and make them knock it off.

The next day, we’re on the phone with an acquaintance, and she casually mentions that she’s surprised the two of us aren’t up at San Francisco getting married with everyone else.

“Everyone else?” Goes I, “I thought they would’ve shut that down already?”

“Oh no!” goes she, “The courts aren’t open until Tuesday. Presidents Day on Monday and all. They’re doing them all weekend long!”

We didn’t know because social media wasn’t a thing yet. I only knew as much about it as I’d read on CNN, and most of the blogs I was following were more focused on what bullshit President George W Bush was up to that day.

"Well shit", me and my man go, "do you wanna?" I mean, it’s a political stunt, it wont really mean anything, but we’re not going to get another chance like this for at least 20 years. Why not?

The next day, Sunday, we get up early. We drive north to the southern-most BART station. We load onto Bay Area Rapid Transit, and rattle back and forth all the way to the San Francisco City Hall stop.

We had slightly miscalculated.

Apparently, demand for marriages was far outstripping the staff they had on hand to process them. Who knew. Everyone who’d gotten turned away Saturday had been given tickets with times to show up Sunday to get their marriages done. My babe and I, we could either wait to see if there was a space that opened up, or come back the next day, Monday.

“Isn’t City Hall closed on Monday?” I asked. “It’s a holiday”

“Oh sure,” they reply, “but people are allowed to volunteer their time to come in and work on stuff anyways. And we have a lot of people who want to volunteer their time to have the marriage licensing offices open tomorrow.”

“Oh cool,” we go, “Backup.”

“Make sure you’re here if you do,” they say, “because the California Supreme Court is back in session Tuesday, and will be reviewing the motion that got filed to shut us down.”

And all this shit is super not-legal, so they’ll totally be shutting us down goes unsaid.

00000

We don’t get in Saturday. We wind up hanging out most of the day, though.

It’s… incredible. I can say, without hyperbole, that I have never experienced so much concentrated joy and happiness and celebration of others’ joy and happiness in all my life before or since. My face literally ached from grinning. Every other minute, a new couple was coming out of City Hall, waving their paperwork to the crowd and cheering and leaping and skipping. Two glorious Latina women in full Mariachi band outfits came out, one in the arms of another. A pair of Jewish boys with their families and Rabbi. One couple managed to get a Just Married convertible arranged complete with tin-cans tied to the bumper to drive off in. More than once I was giving some rice to throw at whoever was coming out next.

At some point in the mid-afternoon, there was a sudden wave of extra cheering from the several hundred of us gathered at the steps, even though no one was coming out. There was a group going up the steps to head inside, with some generic black-haired shiny guy at the front. My not-yet-husband nudged me, “That’s Newsom.” He said, because he knew I was hopeless about matching names and people.

Ooooooh, I go. That explains it. Then I joined in the cheers. He waved and ducked inside.

So dusk is starting to fall. It’s February, so it’s only six or so, but it’s getting dark.

“Should we just try getting in line for tomorrow -now-?” we ask.

“Yeah, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.” One of the volunteers tells us. “We’re not allowed to have people hang out overnight like this unless there are facilities for them and security. We’d need Porta-Poties for a thousand people and police patrols and the whole lot, and no one had time to get all that organized. Your best bet is to get home, sleep, and then catch the first BART train up at 5am and keep your fingers crossed.

Monday is the last day to do this, after all.

00000

So we go home. We crash out early. We wake up at 4:00. We drive an hour to hit the BART station. We get the first train up. We arrive at City Hall at 6:30AM.

The line stretches around the entirety of San Francisco City Hall. You could toss a can of Coke from the end of the line to the people who’re up to be first through the doors and not have to worry about cracking it open after.

“Uh.” We go. “What the fuck is -this-?”

So.

Remember why they weren’t going to be able to have people hang out overnight?

Turns out, enough SF cops were willing to volunteer unpaid time to do patrols to cover security. And some anonymous person delivered over a dozen Porta-Poties that’d gotten dropped off around 8 the night before.

It’s 6:30 am, there are almost a thousand people in front of us in line to get this literal once in a lifetime marriage, the last chance we expect to have for at least 15 more years (it was 2004, gay rights were getting shoved back on every front. It was not looking good. We were just happy we lived in California were we at least weren’t likely to loose job protections any time soon.).

Then it starts to rain.

We had not dressed for rain.

00000

Here is how the next six hours go.

We’re in line. Once the doors open at 7am, it will creep forward at a slow crawl. It’s around 7 when someone shows up with garbage bags for everyone. Cut holes for the head and arms and you’ve got a makeshift raincoat! So you’ve got hundreds of gays and lesbians decked out in the nicest shit they could get on short notice wearing trashbags over it.

Everyone is so happy.

Everyone is so nervous/scared/frantic that we wont be able to get through the doors before they close for the day.

People online start making delivery orders.

Coffee and bagels are ordered in bulk and delivered to City Hall for whoever needs it. We get pizza. We get roses. Random people come by who just want to give hugs to people in line because they’re just so happy for us. The tour busses make detours to go past the lines. Chinese tourists lean out with their cameras and shout GOOD LUCK while car horns honk.

A single sad man holding a Bible tries to talk people out of doing this, tells us all we’re sinning and to please don’t. He gives up after an hour. A nun replaces him with a small sign about how this is against God’s will. She leaves after it disintegrates in the rain.

The day before, when it was sunny, there had been a lot of protestors. Including a large Muslim group with their signs about how “Not even DOGS do such things!” Which… Yes they do.

A lot of snide words are said (by me) about how the fact that we’re willing to come out in the rain to do this while they’re not willing to come out in the rain to protest it proves who actually gives an actual shit about the topic.

Time passes. I measure it based on which side of City Hall we’re on. The doors face East. We start on Northside. Coffee and trashbags are delivered when we’re on the North Side. Pizza first starts showing up when we’re on Westside, which is also where I see Bible Man and Nun. Roses are delivered on Southside. And so forth.

00000

We have Line Neighbors.

Ahead of us are a gay couple a decade or two older than us. They’ve been together for eight years. The older one is a school teacher. He has his coat collar up and turns away from any news cameras that come near while we reposition ourselves between the lenses and him. He’s worried about the parents of one of his students seeing him on the news and getting him fired. The younger one will step away to get interviewed on his own later on. They drove down for the weekend once they heard what was going on. They’d started around the same time we did, coming from the Northeast, and are parked in a nearby garage.

The most perky energetic joyful woman I’ve ever met shows up right after we turned the corner to Southside to tackle the younger of the two into a hug. She’s their local friend who’d just gotten their message about what they’re doing and she will NOT be missing this. She is -so- happy for them. Her friends cry on her shoulders at her unconditional joy.

Behind us are a lesbian couple who’d been up in San Francisco to celebrate their 12th anniversary together. “We met here Valentines Day weekend! We live down in San Diego, now, but we like to come up for the weekend because it’s our first love city.”

“Then they announced -this-,” the other one says, “and we can’t leave until we get married. I called work Sunday and told them I calling in sick until Wednesday.”

“I told them why,” her partner says, “I don’t care if they want to give me trouble for it. This is worth it. Fuck them.”

My husband-to-be and I look at each other. We’ve been together for not even two years at this point. Less than two years. Is it right for us to be here? We’re potentially taking a spot from another couple that’d been together longer, who needed it more, who deserved it more.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Says the 40-something gay couple in front of us.

“This is as much for you as it is for us!” says the lesbian couple who’ve been together for over a decade behind us.

“You kids are too cute together,” says the gay couple’s friend. “you -have- to. Someday -you’re- going to be the old gay couple that’s been together for years and years, and you deserve to have been married by then.”

We stay in line.

It’s while we’re on the Southside of City Hall, just about to turn the corner to Eastside at long last that we pick up our own companions. A white woman who reminds me an awful lot of my aunt with a four year old black boy riding on her shoulders. “Can we say we’re with you? His uncles are already inside and they’re not letting anyone in who isn’t with a couple right there.” “Of course!” we say.

The kid is so very confused about what all the big deal is, but there’s free pizza and the busses keep driving by and honking, so he’s having a great time.

We pass by a statue of Lincoln with ‘Marriage for All!’ and "Gay Rights are Human Rights!" flags tucked in the crooks of his arms and hanging off his hat.

It’s about noon, noon-thirty when we finally make it through the doors and out of the rain.

They’ve promised that anyone who’s inside when the doors shut will get married. We made it. We’re safe.

We still have a -long- way to go.

00000

They’re trying to fit as many people into City Hall as possible. Partially to get people out of the rain, mostly to get as many people indoors as possible. The line now stretches down into the basement and up side stairs and through hallways I’m not entirely sure the public should ever be given access to. We crawl along slowly but surely.

It’s after we’ve gone through the low-ceiling basement hallways past offices and storage and back up another set of staircases and are going through a back hallway of low-ranked functionary offices that someone comes along handing out the paperwork. “It’s an hour or so until you hit the office, but take the time to fill these out so you don’t have to do it there!”

We spend our time filling out the paperwork against walls, against backs, on stone floors, on books.

We enter one of the public areas, filled with displays and photos of City Hall Demonstrations of years past.

I take pictures of the big black and white photo of the Abraham Lincoln statue holding banners and signs against segregation and for civil rights.

The four year old boy we helped get inside runs past us around this time, chased by a blond haired girl about his own age, both perused by an exhausted looking teenager helplessly begging them to stop running.

Everyone is wet and exhausted and vibrating with anticipation and the building-wide aura of happiness that infuses everything.

The line goes into the marriage office. A dozen people are at the desk, shoulder to shoulder, far more than it was built to have working it at once.

A Sister of Perpetual Indulgence is directing people to city officials the moment they open up. She’s done up in her nun getup with all her makeup on and her beard is fluffed and be-glittered and on point. “Oh, I was here yesterday getting married myself, but today I’m acting as your guide. Number 4 sweeties, and -Congradulatiooooons!-“

The guy behind the counter has been there since six. It’s now 1:30. He’s still giddy with joy. He counts our money. He takes our paperwork, reviews it, stamps it, sends off the parts he needs to, and hands the rest back to us. “Alright, go to the Rotunda, they’ll direct you to someone who’ll do the ceremony. Then, if you want the certificate, they’ll direct you to -that- line.” “Can’t you just mail it to us?” “Normally, yeah, but the moment the courts shut us down, we’re not going to be allowed to.”

We take our paperwork and join the line to the Rotunda.

If you’ve seen James Bond: A View to a Kill, you’ve seen the San Francisco City Hall Rotunda. There are literally a dozen spots set up along the balconies that overlook the open area where marriage officials and witnesses are gathered and are just processing people through as fast as they can.

That’s for the people who didn’t bring their own wedding officials.

There’s a Catholic-adjacent couple there who seem to have brought their entire families -and- the priest on the main steps. They’re doing the whole damn thing. There’s at least one more Rabbi at work, I can’t remember what else. Just that there was a -lot-.

We get directed to the second story, northside. The San Francisco City Treasurer is one of our two witnesses. Our marriage officient is some other elected official I cannot remember for the life of me (and I'm only writing down what I can actively remember, so I can't turn to my husband next to me and ask, but he'll have remembered because that's what he does.)

I have a wilting lily flower tucked into my shirt pocket. My pants have water stains up to the knees. My hair is still wet from the rain, I am blubbering, and I can’t get the ring on my husband’s finger. The picture is a treat, I tell you.

There really isn’t a word for the mix of emotions I had at that time. Complete disbelief that this was reality and was happening. Relief that we’d made it. Awe at how many dozens of people had personally cheered for us along the way and the hundreds to thousands who’d cheered for us generally.

Then we're married.

Then we get in line to get our license.

It’s another hour. This time, the line goes through the higher stories. Then snakes around and goes past the doorway to the mayor’s office.

Mayor Newsom is not in today. And will be having trouble getting into his office on Tuesday because of the absolute barricade of letters and flowers and folded up notes and stuffed animals and City Hall maps with black marked “THANK YOU!”s that have been piled up against it.

We make it to the marriage records office.

I take a picture of my now husband standing in front of a case of the marriage records for 1902-1912. Numerous kids are curled up in corners sleeping. My own memory is spotty. I just know we got the papers, and then we’re done with lines. We get out, we head to the front entrance, and we walk out onto the City Hall steps.

It's almost 3PM.

00000

There are cheers, there’s rice thrown at us, there are hundreds of people celebrating us with unconditional love and joy and I had never before felt the goodness that exists in humanity to such an extent. It’s no longer raining, just a light sprinkle, but there are still no protestors. There’s barely even any news vans.

We make our way through the gauntlet, we get hands shaked, people with signs reading ”Congratulations!” jump up and down for us. We hit the sidewalks, and we begin to limp our way back to the BART station.

I’m at the BART station, we’re waiting for our train back south, and I’m sitting on the ground leaning against a pillar and in danger of falling asleep when a nondescript young man stops in front of me and shuffles his feet nervously. “Hey. I just- I saw you guys, down at City Hall, and I just… I’m so happy for you. I’m so proud of what you could do. I’m- I’m just really glad, glad you could get to do this.”

He shakes my hand, clasps it with both of his and shakes it. I thank him and he smiles and then hurries away as fast as he can without running.

Our train arrives and the trip south passes in a semilucid blur.

We get back to our car and climb in.

It’s 4:30 and we are starving.

There’s a Carls Jr near the station that we stop off at and have our first official meal as a married couple. We sit by the window and watch people walking past and pick out others who are returning from San Francisco. We're all easy to pick out, what with the combination of giddiness and water damage.

We get home about 6-7. We take the dog out for a good long walk after being left alone for two days in a row. We shower. We bundle ourselves up. We bury ourselves in blankets and curl up and just sort of sit adrift in the surrealness of what we’d just done.

We wake up the next day, Tuesday, to read that the California State Supreme Court has rejected the petition to shut down the San Francisco weddings because the paperwork had a misplaced comma that made the meaning of one phrase unclear.

The State Supreme Court would proceed to play similar bureaucratic tricks to drag the process out for nearly a full month before they have nothing left and finally shut down Mayor Newsom’s marriages.

My parents had been out of state at the time at a convention. They were flying into SFO about the same moment we were walking out of City Hall. I apologized to them later for not waiting and my mom all but shook me by the shoulders. “No! No one knew that they’d go on for so long! You did what you needed to do! I’ll just be there for the next one!”

00000

It was just a piece of paper. Legally, it didn’t even hold any weight thirty days later. My philosophy at the time was “marriage really isn’t that important, aside from the legal benefits. It’s just confirming what you already have.”

But maybe it’s just societal weight, or ingrained culture, or something, but it was different after. The way I described it at the time, and I’ve never really come up with a better metaphor is, “It’s like we were both holding onto each other in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a storm. We were keeping each other above water, we were each other’s support. But then we got this piece of paper. And it was like the ground rose up to meet our feet. We were still in an ocean, still in the middle of a storm, but there was a solid foundation beneath our feet. We still supported each other, but there was this other thing that was also keeping our heads above the water.

It was different. It was better. It made things more solid and real.

I am forever grateful for all the forces and all the people who came together to make it possible. It’s been twenty years and we’re still together and still married.

We did a domestic partnership a year later to get the legal paperwork. We’d done a private ceremony with proper rings (not just ones grabbed out of the husband’s collection hours before) before then. And in 2008, we did a legal marriage again.

Rushed. In a hurry. Because there was Proposition 13 to be voted on which would make them all illegal again if it passed.

It did, but we were already married at that point, and they couldn’t negate it that time.

Another few years after that, the Supreme Court finally threw up their hands and said "Fine! It's been legal in places and nothing's caught on fire or been devoured by locusts. It's legal everywhere. Shut up about it!"

And that was that.

00000

When I was in highschool, in the late 90s, I didn’t expect to see legal gay marriage until I was in my 50s. I just couldn’t see how the American public as it was would ever be okay with it.

I never expected to be getting married within five years. I never expected it to be legal nationwide before I’d barely started by 30s. I never thought I’d be in my 40s and it’d be such a non-issue that the conservative rabble rousers would’ve had to move onto other wedge issues altogether.

I never thought that I could introduce another man as my husband and absolutely no one involved would so much as blink.

I never thought I’d live in this world.

And it’s twenty years later today. I wonder how our line buddies are doing. Those babies who were running around the wide open rooms playing tag will have graduated college by now. The kids whose parents the one line-buddy was worried would see him are probably married too now. Some of them to others of the same gender.

I don’t have some greater message to make with all this. Other then, culture can shift suddenly in ways you can’t predict. For good or ill. Mainly this is just me remembering the craziest fucking 36 hours of my life twenty years after the fact and sharing them with all of you.

The future we’re resigned to doesn’t have to be the one we live in. Society can shift faster than you think. The unimaginable of twenty years ago is the baseline reality of today.

And always remember that the people who want to get married will show up by the thousands in rain that none of those who’re against it will brave.

[bruciemilf]

Need a the Waynes Lived AU where Martha’s a vampire. She snuck in a Wayne Gala for a potential late night snack, but Thomas thought she was a socialite.

“So, what do you do?”

“I drain people of their life sources.”

“Oh, you’re a CEO too?”

She can’t drink Thomas’ blood because he smokes too much, the baggy eyes indicate long nights spent on his feet during surgery, which means it’ll taste bitter, and she saw him drown 10 whiskey shots in one go.

It’s a taste thing, nothing against him.

He is, how ever, very handsome, and she decided she’ll be his house cat for the time being. Fast forward two years later and they have a vampire cherub of a baby named Bruce.

Babies usually don’t come out with fangs and tiny bat wings, so, yeah. His wife’s a vampire. Cool.

“How come I’ve never seen your wife outside during the daytime, Tom??”

“How come I’ve never seen you mind your own fucking business?”

[g12xxx]

Wooooo congratulations Thailand 🎉🎉🥳🥳

🏳️‍🌈

[fragile-things-archive]

hugging until we smell like each other. that's it. that's the whole point.

[peachyboynew]

[politijohn]

Source

Some good news

[soy-bean-ass]

"so, mr. black leg, how do you manage to smoke 3 packs a day and keep so fit?"

(click for quality)