Marriage equality. It was the first question on our ballot here.
A yes vote supports my right to apply for a marriage license issued by the state, even if my intended spouse is the same sex as I. It protects the right of religious institutions to decide whether or not to perform same-sex marriage ceremonies.
I voted yes. So did most of my friends and some of my family. Some of my friends worked incredibly hard to make sure I have equal rights in my state.
I am grateful for that.
But some others voted no.
And that hurts.
I hear them say it's not personal, it's not about me, they don't think of me as less than, they want me to have a happy lifelong relationship, they'd stand up beside me at a ceremony to support my commitment to another woman.
I hear them say they love me, but they just can't redefine marriage.
It hurts to hear this.
It hurts to have people who love me and people whom I love say that I do not deserve to be treated fairly, that I am not equal in this way, that my love doesn't quite count the way theirs does. It really hurts.
And here's the thing. I don't really care about getting married. It's never been on my to-do list.
What I do care about is justice and equality, and I'd like to think that people who care about me want me to have the same array of options that they have.
Some of them don't.
That is hard to swallow.
* * *
I'm not going to disown them, or stop liking and loving them, but their position does change things.
In the best relationships, whether intimate or familial or friendly, there's this sense of safe certainty that your loved ones have got your back. They'll stand up for you. They'll vouch for you. They'll be there for you when you need them.
When my loved ones voted no, they said that they'll be there for me, that they'll stand up for me.
Except on this.
They said it's about faith or religion or politics or tradition or the party line. They said it's not me. It's not personal.
Except that it is.
It is about me.
No one likes to hear “I love you, but,” and I'm no exception. It hurts.
And it changes things.
The “no” voters might not even notice the change. I'll still show up to holiday dinners and help with the dishes. I'll still laugh and joke and remember to ask about the important things in their lives. They'll still love me, and I'll still love them.
But underneath it all, I'll know.
I'll know that when it came down to it, they said no. They said, “No, she's not quite equal. She doesn't deserve what we have. She's a little less than we are.”
And that changes a lot. Even though “Yes on 1” won, I'll know that these people took a stand - a stand against full equality, against fairness, and against me.
And that just hurts.