Psychotherapist Marny Hall’s friend built her a mock pair of cold feet, which she and her partner of 23 years planned to wear in a San Francisco parade to lampoon a new worry hanging over the gay community: marriage.
Any man and woman together for more than a few years is familiar with that stressful first conversation about marriage. Does he want to tie the knot? What if I bring it up and she doesn’t want to marry me?
Until the California Supreme Court ruling on May 15, gays and lesbians held a lifetime pass from “The Conversation.” Couples together for decades never had to confront the question about a lifetime legal commitment in which rights to money, property and children would be equally shared. But now, say therapists who work with gay and lesbian couples, marriage is suddenly not just an option, but with a vote on a constitutional ban looming Nov. 4, it’s a potential imperative.
“Now there is another step, which has thrown a lot of people back on this question of: Where are we in our relationship?” said Deb Burgard, a Los Altos therapist who works with gay and lesbian couples.
“There’s a worry that a lot of people have that if they decided not to do it, they are not as committed as they thought they were. Or the partner says, ‘What, you don’t want to marry me?’ That can create turmoil as well.”
Of course, in the right hands, fear of the old ball and chain can be humorous.
Comic Marga Gomez, accustomed to laughing about how her sexual orientation gave her an automatic marriage exemption, has had to change the punch line.
“I used to do a joke that used discrimination to my advantage,” said Gomez, a San Francisco performer who strongly favors the right to same-sex marriage. ” ‘Baby, I’d marry you tomorrow, if it was legal.’ Now in my act I say, ‘Baby, I could marry you tomorrow, but what would that say to our brothers and sisters in Arkansas? I cannot marry you until all our brothers and sisters are equal.’ “
Gary Lawson of Mountain View, who just married partner of 28 years Tom Ammon, thinks many couples are feeling pressure.
“As I talk to friends that aren’t getting married, it does feel like there is this moment – it’s almost like a rationalization – about why they are choosing not to,” he said. “I’m not sure people expect an explanation, but I find they are thinking out loud about why they are not.”
Hall, who practices in San Francisco and Oakland and is the author of the “Lesbian Love Companion” and other books, said that the possibility of marriage has – literally overnight – transformed the relationship landscape for many same-sex couples.
“Often times one partner has lots more assets than the other partner. And this has not been an issue; but this is now catalyzed by this event” of legal marriage, Hall said. “One partner says, ‘I want to get married,’ and other partner says, ‘I want a prenup.’ The first person says, ‘You don’t trust me,’ and the other person says, ‘Right you are.’ “
Julie Williamson married her partner during the San Francisco weddings of 2004, which were later invalidated by the Supreme Court. But when the couple split up last year after 12 years together, they realized they had two different ideas about what was fair in dividing up their property and money, leading to an even more painful and protracted breakup.
Williamson feels strongly that same-sex couples should be able to marry because society implicitly understands the meaning of marriage, and she wants gay and lesbian couples to be considered families in the fullest sense.
But as she watched same-sex couples flood into San Francisco City Hall to legally wed last month, she felt conflicted.
“I really wanted to celebrate with people at City Hall, but I also really wanted to stand there with a sign saying, ‘Write your prenuptial agreements first,’ ” she said.
Ken Yeager, the first openly gay elected official in Santa Clara County, wonders whether marriage will make gay people, well, kind of ordinary.
“Being outsiders, we had a certain perspective on society,” said Yeager, a county supervisor. “And now we’re going to be much more integrated, and the other word is, assimilated.”
Hall, who’s discussing marriage with her partner, said that for lesbian feminists who grew up during the Women’s Movement and saw marriage as a institution that pigeonholed men and women into social roles, it’s tough to rationalize accepting the enemy’s terms.
“We wanted to be outlaws. It was fun,” Hall said. “Those of us who came of age during the Women’s Movement learned to love the margins. And now most of our peers want a conventional lifestyle, and it’s very ironic. How do we be radicals when we’re hoping to be the most petite of the petite bourgeoisie? It’s really changed the goalposts for what it means being gay.”
Burgard, who lives in San Jose, had been having similar feelings as she and her partner of 21 years, Marybeth Binkley, contemplated marriage.
“Here I am: I live in the suburbs. My partner drives a station wagon with wood on the sides. We have a dog,” she said. “It’s extremely conventional in a lot of ways – but it’s not. There’s something about that twist that I love. It expresses something about me that I love, because it’s not completely conventional.”
Would they lose that special twist if they married? Burgard sure hopes not.
The two women will take their vows Aug. 15.
Contact Mike Swift at mswift@mercurynews.com or (408) 271-3648.
