A Transcontinental Affair

I was not the one who wanted to get married. John Habich, my partner since the summer of 2001, had brought up a commitment ceremony from time to time, but without legal meaning, the whole idea felt like a sham to me. Our families, colleagues, and widely dispersed friends all knew that we planned to spend the rest of our lives together; I wasn’t sure that any purpose was served in making them gather at an inconvenient location in further recognition of our affection. But John saw a ceremony in personal rather than political terms and fantasized about the gratification to be had by pledging our troth publicly before our chosen community, whether or not any civil rights were attached. I believe fervently in partnership parity for gay and straight couples, and holding a ceremony without such equality had for me the taint of giving in -- virtually consenting to prejudice in a smiling submissiveness worthy of Uncle Tom. We could get married, I thought, if and when we could really get married.

The matter hovered in a state of suspended indecision until the United Kingdom passed the Civil Partnership Act, which went into effect in late 2005. It grants same-sex couples all the rights associated with marriage, with two notable exceptions: It is not legally called marriage, and it cannot be conferred by a member of the clergy. These provisos notwithstanding, everyone calls it marriage, and many people annex a religious blessing to the registrar’s official proclamation. Since I am a dual national with British as well as American citizenship, our marriage under the new law would offer real meaning. Among other rights, it would entitle John to residence in the United Kingdom and ultimately to British citizenship. If we ever decided to give up our U.S. citizenship, we would not have to pay inheritance tax on each other’s estate. We would be automatically recognized as next of kin in any medical emergency. I wish the ceremony were called marriage, but as a nationally acknowledged set of protections, it gratified my yen for meaningful social progress.

So we decided in mid 2006 to marry in England the following summer, when our friends could bring their children. It was surprising how many people asked why we hadn’t just gone to Massachusetts instead. I explained that, quite apart from the fact that we don’t live or own property there, marriage is a national institution, and that what we were going to do in England had meaning in that entire sovereign nation. While Massachusetts marriages came with some rights, they wouldn’t have any weight in the most crucial areas of the law -- never mind that our home base is New York.