A More Perfect Union
I’m surrounded by people getting married. These weddings run the gamut from a summer soirée on a rooftop in Toronto, to a pre-Thanksgiving ceremony in a fun, old cork factory in Lancaster. I am thrilled to go, no matter where they are. You see, I made a promise to myself a few months into the COVID-19 lockdown, that I would accept any invitation I received. This year, with six weddings already on the calendar, I am keeping my word.
My feelings about weddings, though, are complex. As a child of divorce, I’m prone to think every marriage will crash and burn. As a subversive, queer-identified person, I sometimes feel they are performative and archaic. As an eternal romantic, I can’t help but believe weddings fill the universe with hope, and as a pragmatic thinker, I realize they support the fabric and order of modern society. They also end up being a good time and a great excuse to consume large quantities of carbs, drink buckets of prosecco, and get stupid on the dance floor.
There’s one thing I can’t quite rationalize: the politics of weddings. In this world where almost everything political taints much of our discourse, is anything safe? Apparently not.
There are low-key wedding politics. There’s stress over menu options and meeting the dietary restrictions of guests. There’s fussing over flowers and table decorations. There’s the politics of music and finding the right ratio of slow jams and bangers. There’s the worry that no one will show up, which is something I’ve heard endlessly, dating back to the first wedding I was in as a young adult. There’s also the pressure to document every moment on social media, from the engagement to the honeymoon. These posts never capture the icky moments. They only feature a filtered version of the truth.
Then there’s the higher-risk politics. The pre-wedding celebrations, which have become expensive, destination events. Say so long to straight girls in gay bars with phallic-shaped earrings, and hello to weekend trips to Ibiza complete with outfit itineraries and customized Stanley mugs. There’s the reception seating chart which was likely developed with the precision of a general mapping out a battle strategy. There’s the line-up of the wedding party and the toasts, which can affirm or offend.
There’s the controversial decision to make a wedding kid-free. While this sounds like a no-brainer to me, it seems to upset parents. There’s also the cost, who’s paying, and what that investment means. I recently learned that if someone helps pay for a wedding, they may feel emboldened to make special requests or add names to a guest list. This left me thunderstruck: was this a wedding, or a corporate event?
For LGBTQ+ folks, weddings can be complicated. While it has been almost a decade since the United States Supreme Court legalized same-sex marriage, the detractors persist and remain vocal. Some may even be within a couple’s family. For some, this type of rejection is an extension of life-long experiences and can re-traumatize those who lived through rejection before.
Now, in the wake of the Dobbs decision, there’s concern the high court has gay marriage in its crosshairs. This has left many in the community feeling pensive and worried for the future. Fortunately, groups like Lambda Legal and the Human Rights Campaign remain alert to the changing landscape and are poised to act should this challenge come to pass.
On the lighter end of the gay wedding political spectrum, there’s the complicated nature of weddings themselves: how can you queer-up something so rooted in tradition? Some succeed brilliantly; others choose a more conventional path.
All these politics cast a shadow over something which should be beautiful. I used to think I was lucky. Even as an empathetic observer and seasoned wedding guest, I never had to deal with any of it. Then, I fell in love. Now, I am experiencing the low-key pressure to propose, as if everything is suddenly on a timeline.
Recently, though, I experienced something more troubling. I had a casual conversation with a relative who is strong in their faith. While they love my partner and me, they were unable to say if they support us getting married. While it stung, it also made me realize I was not exempt from the politics, either.
I am grateful to be surrounded by so many good people getting married. While my feelings about weddings continue to be complex, I do know that love has softened the edges of my cynical heart. I plan to be present for all six weddings and will appreciate the sweat, tears, and politics which went into making each day so special. Like all things political, I hope it leads everyone—myself included—to a more perfect union. ▼
Christopher Moore is Interim Executive Director of AIDS Delaware. He loves NPR, naughty jokes, and a man who lives in Toronto. Email him at moore.cc@gmail.com.
Photo: Sandy Millar on Unsplash.