This morning Kate and I stood outside the Ninth Circuit Courthouse before the Proposition 8 trial began. We stood alongside rabbis, ministers, atheists, children, grandparents, parents, and couples all listening to the stories of people effected by Proposition 8.
When the proposition passed, I was in Ohio working for Obama. My path hadn't yet crossed Kate's, and I had no idea the impact this law would have on my life. Sure, I was devastated on behalf of my parents - I started crying during the Obama celebration when it looked the Prop 8 had passed - but that is nothing like this experience. It's different when you feel the need to race to court RIGHT NOW (which - for those of you who don't know - is how we got engaged) because tomorrow they might take away our right to marry. Or maybe they've already taken it away. It's different when it's the love of your life that you're trying to marry, not just the love of your family. Not more or less hurtful, just hurtful in an entirely different way.
So this morning at 7:30, standing outside the Ninth Circuit Courthouse, on the precipice of what could be our right to marry, I was exhausted and excited. I had gone to bed entirely too late last night because Kate and I were doing media interviews after my rained-out event. But, more than the physical drain of too-early a wake up call, I am exhausted by going to all these court cases. I'm exhausted that we have to fight bigotry to simply say "I do", that people challenge one of the best things that has ever happened to me, the love of my life, Kate.
Yet, it's exciting. What if I could legally marry Kate? What if we could enjoy the universally known commitment - marriage? We'll be married in May no matter what, but signing those domestic partnership papers is definitely going to feel like a blow. Separate is not equal. Let's hope the Ninth Circuit Court realizes that too.
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