The day of oral
arguments, I climbed the marble steps of the California
supreme court with an unwavering conviction that the court
would understand it held the hopes and dreams and
dignity of the entire LGBT community in its hands. I
had appeared before the California supreme court
before, but never in a case where the stakes for our
families were so high or the spotlight so intense.
Throughout the
four-hour argument, I felt literally buoyed and elated by
love. I could feel the love and support of not only our 14
plaintiff couples but the millions of lesbian and gay
couples who have cared for one another and worked to
build families -- even when the law criminalized their
relationships, barred them from public employment, and
certainly excluded them from marriage.
On a personal
note, I marveled at the privilege and good fortune that
brought me from rural east Texas, where I grew up, to the
opportunity to argue a case of such significance
before the most influential state supreme court in the
country. Despite a healthy dose of butterflies, I felt
the strength of my grandmother and a beloved uncle, both now
deceased, whose unstinting love and support had transformed
my life. With so much at stake, I was determined to
convey the true depth and meaning of our relationships
to the court.
And yet the
outcome was far from certain. Six of the seven judges were
appointed by Republicans. Only one other high court had
ruled that same-sex couples must be permitted to
marry. But we had hope because 60 years ago, in
Perez v. Sharp, the California supreme court made
history by becoming the first court in the country to strike
down laws banning interracial marriage.
The television
crews and crowds were a constant reminder that the world
was watching. But what mattered more to the court was that
future generations were watching. Three times Chief
Justice Ronald M. George himself quoted from Perez
v. Sharp, "The essence of the right to
marry is freedom to join in marriage with the person of
one's choice."
And Justice Joyce
L. Kennard posited that "just because there has been
a long tradition of something or other, doesn't
mean that that tradition is legally right or
constitutionally protected." It is a credit to
Justice Kennard and her colleagues in the majority
that they were able to make such a profound
distinction.
As a transgender
man, I was able to marry several years ago. Because of
that experience, I have appreciated the joy and meaning of
marriage on a very personal level. My wedding day was
the happiest day of my life. Throughout this case, I
have been sustained by that happiness and absolutely
committed to ensuring that lesbian and gay couples have that
same freedom.
But it was not a
battle I fought alone. Indeed, this victory belongs to
many people: the couples who bravely put themselves and
their children in the public eye in order to seek
equal treatment under the law for their families; my
colleagues at the National Center for Lesbian Rights and our
partner organizations, who worked for four years to bring
the most compelling story possible to the
state's high court; the courageous public
officials who have done everything in their power to make
marriage available to lesbian and gay couples; and
everyone who cares about fairness and believes that
every person should have the right to marry the person
they love.
Now that we have
won, I wish we could just celebrate and relax. But there
are those who will seek to take away this victory, to roll
back the decision and reverse its effects.
Thanks to the
courage of many people and one of the most respected courts
in the nation, we now have history on our side. Together we
must do everything in our power to keep it that way.