Nobody’s Wives, Together

Or, Thirty Years of Queer Delight

Facebook already knows how this story ends, so I might as well tell you right up front: Reader, I married her.

blackberry pineapple mojitoIt was an impulse move thirty years in the making, one made possible by the voters of Maryland and finally irresistible because of a ballsy woman named Edith Windsor. We billed it as a celebration of our thirtieth anniversary and, “by the way, a wedding,” which was our way of saying that what mattered most to us was not the change in our legal status but the three decades of shared life and love that had preceded it. It was a small, elegant, impromptu affair, which we planned and executed in three weeks in the middle of an already insanely busy semester. (How busy? The night before the wedding, I took a job candidate out to dinner while relatives and out-of-towners were gathering at the house.) We were able to pull it off because a trusted caterer happened to be available and a dear friend is an interwebz-certified secular officiant. My advice? If you’re going to get married, don’t spend more than three weeks planning and executing it. Ignore the whole marriage industrial complex. I got married in a ten-year-old suit and never got around to buying new shoes for the occasion. The suit looked great and I kicked off my old shoes an hour after the ceremony. The world didn’t end. Also: Serve mojitos. And shrimp with dry ice wafting off the platter. No one will notice your shoes if there are festive cocktails and a dry-ice haze hanging pleasantly in the air.

Fine, Madwoman, I hear you muttering. You’ve told us the how of your wedding. What about the why?

What, you can’t just congratulate me? I’m not sure I owe you an explanation, but, having publicly proclaimed myself a marriage resister, I suppose I can understand why you might expect one. It’s simple, really. I stand by everything I’ve ever said against marriage: It’s not necessarily the best way to organize intimacy, it’s a terrible way to distribute benefits and protections that all citizens should have, and it’s an obscene (and probably unconstitutional) way for states to enforce judgments about who and how people love. At the same time, it is, at the moment, the best way to secure a relationship legally and financially. The Woman Formerly Known as Goose and I have already been together for thirty years. We are not getting any younger. We’ve reached a point in our lives where such security feels both appealing and necessary. As I explained to a friend, I may be ambivalent about marriage, but I’m not ambivalent about my relationship. It’s my future. I want to protect it. Besides, I’ve been working to create change from inside institutions my entire career. I’ll treat marriage the same way I’ve treated academia: I’ll resist and subvert it from within. And I’ll continue to argue against compulsory marriage and for the full range of queer intimacies. I’ve always been a firm believer in the value of being able to walk and chew gum at the same time or, as a more eloquent pal put it on Facebook, of being able to balance the both/and.

The_trouble_with_normal_(book_cover)To the queer purists who would dismiss such talk as a load of self-justifying bourgeois crap, I say, fine. You win the cool contest. I understand the romance of precarity and marginalization in queer culture, the veneration for all things anti-normative. I enjoyed my outlaw status and have mixed feelings about giving up my strongest claim to it. I was and am proud of the sturdy, resilient alternative to legal marriage that WFKG and I lovingly built and sustained. On the other hand, I also experienced the terrible insecurity of that alternative one day in 1994, when my partner nearly bled to death on an operating table in a Catholic hospital. I sat for nine excruciating hours in a surgical waiting room, not knowing what was happening to her and not at all sure that the medical power of attorney she had given me would be respected. A volunteer at the desk had shaken my confidence when I asked her to call the OR to try to find out why the surgery was taking so much longer than expected. “You’re not family?” she said in the course of our exchange. “Well, I don’t know if the doctor will talk to you at all.” Live through a moment like that and then tell me you wouldn’t do everything you possibly could to assure you’d be able to care for the person you love in a medical crisis.

More recently, I ran into an old friend in the grocery store, someone I hadn’t seen in a few years. We chatted in the produce aisle, catching up and kvetching about the winter storm we were both preparing for. She told me she and her partner had sold their sweet bungalow and moved into a condo near the store in which we stood. “That sounds like a great idea,” I said. “I love our house, but there are days when I’m sick of taking care of it.” She smiled and nodded, then paused briefly before saying quietly, “Well, I got this diagnosis a couple of years ago.” “Oh, no!” I said, and to my quizzical look she matter-of-factly replied, “I have Alzheimer’s.” I was astonished by the news and pained for my friend, who is probably in her mid-60s and has lived as healthy and mindful a life as anyone I know. She’s a Buddhist, a vegetarian, a yoga teacher, for heaven’s sake! The encounter forcefully reminded me of things we all know but generally avoid acknowledging: That virtue isn’t necessarily rewarded, that life is a crap shoot, that the bottom can suddenly and inexplicably drop out of everything, re-arranging the world and one’s way of moving through it. That chance encounter had a lot to do with my decision to say to WFKG, “Let’s do this. Anything can happen. We need to put ourselves in the best possible position to manage the worst possible circumstances.” She agreed.

The ceremony was simple and sweet, performed in front of the fireplace in our great room thirty years to the day after we spent our first night together. We reaffirmed vows we made in our 1989 commitment ceremony while the rings we have worn since that day were passed around in a small silk bag and lovingly re-warmed by each guest. As part of my vows, I surprised WFKG by singing to her, John Lennon’s “Grow Old With Me,” which is based on a poem by Robert Browning and is one of the last songs ever written by my beloved’s favorite Beatle. I hadn’t sung in public since my killer performance as Mona Kent in Dames at Sea in high school, but the song’s tender lyric so eloquently expresses what love and commitment feel like in the middle of life that I was willing to risk humiliating myself in front of a group that included a number of professional singers and musicians. By obsessively studying Mary Chapin Carpenter’s beautiful rendition of the song I managed a creditable performance, but I did have to make one key, queer revision to Lennon’s lyric. Where he writes, “Spending our lives together,/Man and wife together,” etc., I sang

Spending our lives together,

Nobody’s wives together

World without end

World without end

In last year’s anniversary post, I wrote that the term “wife” is for me beyond reclamation, rooted in and saturated by gender-based inequalities that persist in custom if not in law. “I don’t need it,” I declared. “I don’t want it. I don’t like the feel of it in my mouth or the sound of it in my ears. It grates. It simpers. It titters and totters, uncertain of itself, as Emily Dickinson brilliantly, devastatingly shows” in her poem “I’m ‘wife’–.” A year later and newly arrived in the state of matrimony, I can state emphatically that my feelings toward the W-word have not changed one iota. I reject it. I will not use it, and I don’t want it used in reference to me or the person to whom I am legally married. (Note to the Associated Press: Partner, please. Even “spouse” feels weird to me, though WFKG and I have been trying it out this week.) I continue to believe that same-sex couples can and will queer the institution of marriage simply by occupying it. We can heighten the queering by refusing traditional roles and terms and by calling out marital privilege for what it is, which is perhaps why I can’t resist making jokes about only marrying WFKG for her money. The sentimentalists may cringe, but the truth is that, while my marriage may be legally meaningful, the change in status means little to me personally. It doesn’t change how I think or feel about myself or my relationship. It has no bearing on my sense of worth, belonging, or responsibility. To pretend otherwise would be to buy into the hierarchy of values that so troubles the speaker in Dickinson’s poem, as she looks back on a “Girl’s life” that is supposed to look “odd” from the comforting “soft Eclipse” of marriage. “Why compare?” asks the speaker, unable to bear or bridge the gap between what she feels and what heteropatriarchy tells her she is supposed to feel. “I’m ‘Wife!’ Stop there!” she frantically concludes.

Rather than stop there, I will use this occasion to say that perhaps it’s time to begin imagining a post-marriage LGBT politics. Many of us never wanted marriage to be the primary goal of LGBT activism and aspiration. We had more radical dreams for our relationships, our movement, and our world. We entered into the marriage struggle reluctantly if we entered it at all only because it became a fight to assure that discrimination against non-heterosexuals didn’t get enshrined not only in state laws but in the Constitution itself. In this extraordinary moment when we seem on the brink of full marriage equality nationwide, we should be thinking about how to mobilize support for, for example, economic justice, queer elder care, and protections for non-marital relationships. Some of us will be saying, “I do,” but all of us need to be asking, “What’s next?” There’s still plenty of work left to do, kids. The party was swell, but it’s time to get back into our comfortable shoes and put our queer shoulders to the wheel.

These gals made their first appearance on top of the cake at our "Practically a Wedding" in 1989. Being committed enviros, we reused them for last weekend's legal marriage ceremony. 3/8/14.

These gals made their first appearance on top of the cake at our “Practically a Wedding” in 1989. Being committed enviros, we reused them for last weekend’s legal marriage ceremony. 3/8/14.


  1. Massive congratulations–and what a wonderful, heartwarming post!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. professorsusan says:

    Congratulations! And thank you for a wise and thoughtful discussion of marriage. I hope that you and WFKG continue to flourish as legally recognized partners just as you have done for thirty years without that “benefit”.

    You owe no one an explanation, but your explanation is helpful. We certainly all know, as we get older, of the many things that can disrupt our lives. As someone who has had to deal with medical issues, including signing a DNR form, these would be the most important issues for me if I were in a relationship.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Felicitations! I wish you years of continued happiness together.

    And thanks for the fine discussion of the problematics of marriage. As long as folks need the protections marriage provides, it should be as accessible as possible to all.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Congratulations! It seems to me that one of the good things that *could* come out of the discussion over same-sex marriage (but almost certainly won’t, because people are too busy taking sides, and confusing civil and religious marriage, and generally making a hash out of the thing in response to court decisions, that, thank goodness, seem to be tending mostly in the direction of justice and plain old common sense) would be a rethinking of what marriage can and should mean in the 21st century (it’s not as if the institution has stood still in previous centuries, references to “traditional” marriages and families notwithstanding). I appreciate your beginning to blaze a trail in that direction, even as you (entirely understandably) take advantage of the protections currently associated with (and often only with) the institution.

    Your stance reminds me a bit of the approach Angelina Grimke and Theodore Weld took to their wedding: denouncing much of what was traditionally associated with marriage at the time (especially couverture) in the process of marrying each other. That’s pretty good company to find yourself in.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. My goodness–congratulations and best wishes to you both!!! This comes as something of a surprise, but also a not-surprise. We don’t have to talk about it again, but I completely respect your decision to become not-wives together.

    Much, much love and appreciation for your mutual friendship over these last several years.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Geoffrey says:

    I’m still hurt Martha wouldn’t let me sing “Top of the World” as you walked out of the room.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Congratulations!

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Jamie Haversack Wilson says:

    Best Wishes and Congratulations!!!

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Thanks, all, for the warm wishes. I love the comparison to Weld and Grimke, Contingent Cassandra, though it feels rather grand. I’m trying to recall if others who fought in the great causes of the 19th century denounced marriage as they entered into it — Elizabeth Cady Stanton, for instance?

    Big love to you, Historiann, and I’m glad we surprised you a little. We surprised some folks quite a lot, actually, which was delightful. Happy to talk more about it. Back-channel me, when you’re not too busy frolicking in the waves in the Sunshine State. Catch a wave and have a mojito for me, will you? We forgot to book a honeymoon!


  10. potholesahead says:

    Congratulations! Best wishes to the newlyweds. May your years together be filled with much love, joy, good health and a wicked sense of humour.

    Liked by 1 person

  11. Oh! I think you both should queer the word “wife”: revert to “wyf” or “goodwyf.” Recall the Wyf of Bath in bathwyf, perhaps. The partner of a “wyf” is her “gossib,” at least in the Canterbury Tales. I myself would identified and loved the Wyf and Gossib and her story of marriage and magic.'s_Tale

    Liked by 1 person

  12. doctornorman says:

    Beautiful. Full stop. “What’s next?” indeed. After a deserved rest and celebration, time to put those shoes back on and beat some new queer paths!

    Liked by 1 person

  13. Awesome that you guys have been together for thirty fucken years! Here’s to thirty more!

    Liked by 1 person

  14. Congratulations and best wishes to you both!

    Liked by 1 person

  15. mainelurker says:

    Heartfelt congratulations on your 30th anniversary!

    Liked by 1 person

  16. Late to the party, but I can honestly say: you both got a good one.

    Two comments. One is, that you point to something interesting: queer people always have to explain themselves. First it was, why do you need to be gay? Then, it was Why do you need to get married (and ruin everything for straight people)? Now it’s: why don’t you get married (particularly those of we who have decades under our collective belt.)

    I don’t know whether la famille Radical will make it official or not, but I do know this: the anti-marriage queer academic cool kids seem to pull us this way and that, and after their shenanigans this year with a certain Formerly Scholarly Association, I say, to hell with what they think. Marry the girl.

    Liked by 1 person

  17. Thanks, TR, and those are some fine points you make. Queer people do always have to explain themselves, though in my case the question was not, Why don’t you get married? but, What? You’re getting married? As for la famille Radical, well, those of us here in la maison des folles will love and respect you no matter what your marital status is. Unless you wear a dress for the wedding. I could not handle that, dude.


  18. Anthony P. Kirby says:

    My dear, please add a Twitter follow button for us slow kids in the 140RuneLimit lane. With firm affection….



  1. […] yes, it has been a mighty long time. I wish I could say I followed up that last post with an extended honeymoon in Europe with the Woman Formerly Known as Goose and Never to Be […]


  2. […] for me for a number of reasons. The short, dull, honest explanation is that I’ve been busy. I got legally married this year. Bought a guitar. Buried my mother. Started a big new job. Went to China. Worried a lot […]


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: