I'm not feeling too eloquent this Friday morning. Nevertheless, there are too many things going on in my head to not write.
A few days ago, The Breadwinner mistook a post on a friend's Facebook about the same-sex marriage bill in Vermont passing through the state senate for it passing in general. We did a little dance before we realized what had actually happened. Since then, I have been checking Google news for "Vermont gay marriage bill" every few hours. I was heartbroken when I read that the governor would veto the bill if it got to him. No one knows whether it will pass if it has to come to an override of the veto. So, why does this affect me so much, sitting in my apartment in a small town in upstate New York?
It all feels so familiar. In the spring of 2004, I knew that I was moving to Massachusetts for college. I feverishly watched the judicial battle over same-sex marriage in Massachusetts while cities like New Paltz and San Francisco chose to grant marriage licenses to same-sex couples. I didn't really care what happened across the country due to gay-marriage fever. I cared about Massachusetts. I cared that I could get married where I would be living for the foreseeable future (at that point, I was certain I would never leave). My GSA advisor, unbeknownst to me at the time, was actively taking part in attempts to bring same-sex marriage to the forefront on Long Island. I couldn't have cared less. I was leaving and I had a sense that Long Island and New York State would never change. I knew I would never be back.
Five years later, I again find myself living in New York, knowing that soon I will move back to New England. I will live in Vermont as soon as possible. Again, we are told that
oh, you know, New York might have a gay marriage bill up this spring... it'll probably happen by Schumer and Bloomberg. Granted, Schumer's change of heart is nice, I doubt it will lead to any actual change in New York. From where I'm sitting in the North Country, where teasing bangs is still fashionable and the check out lady at Hannaford doesn't know what to make of a same-sex couple simply buying groceries, I'm skeptical.
Yet, just across Lake Champlain--so close you can practically see it from here, I see hope. On Sunday, we went to Burlington's very small Friend's Meeting. During announcements, a sweet old lady stood up and began, "This might be the greatest announcement I ever get to share," and I assumed she was going to tell us that she was a grandmother. I was wrong. "This weekend, my partner and I were united in civil union." Later on, she also spoke about where the push for same-sex marriage in Vermont was the weakest, about calling reps and getting the word out. I sat in this small room, surrounded by the warmth of so many supportive people who asked questions about how to help and contributed their own ideas.
I have never stayed for Fellowship at any Meeting, but The Breadwinner and I stayed that day. We introduced ourselves, talked about what we are doing in Plattsburgh and how we hope to move to Burlington soon. Another woman saw us headed towards the door and turned to the person she was speaking to, saying, "I'll be right back, I need to talk to them before they go." She welcomed us to Meeting and was very kind. She took a few minutes to get to her point, but did say it outright, "Here, I don't think anyone could care if you're gay or straight, everyone is welcome here. Please do come back." The fact that this woman went out of her way to make sure we knew we were wanted at this Meeting made me nod my head and say, "We need to live here." Of course, in Northampton, there were so many queer families at Meeting, no one thought it necessary to say that sort of thing. But it means more coming from someone outside of the queer community, in a setting where there are queer people but we are by no means a force to be reckoned with.
I knew in 2004 that I wanted to move to Massachusetts. I cried and cheered when gay marriage became legal. Now, I know that I could always live in Massachusetts, but I think the small state atmosphere of Vermont is pulling me in. In pictures of Vermonters crying in the state house, I recognize someone I went to the drag ball in Burlington with. At the co-op on a Sunday morning, I can see people who were spandex clad at the queer super hero dance party the night before. I can see queer families, hockey players, and rock climbers. I can see the mountains and the lake. I know this is where I want to get married and raise a family. So, while I am still not one of your constituents, I ask as a
future Vermonter, please don't veto this bill, Mr. Governor.
Sincerely,
The Breadmaker
(
Yeah, I actually sent as much as I could--given the character limit--to the governor.)
Around Valentine's Day, I had been couch surfing in Northampton, staying with people in Tyler primarily. When it came to V-Day weekend, I was a single curmudgeon who did not want to do anything until a new friend invited me to spend the weekend with her in Burlington, Vermont and go to a drag ball. This seemed preferable to staying at Smith and I was ready to go exploring beyond Western Mass. She took me up to Burlington on Friday afternoon and I fell in love with the mountains on the drive up. On Saturday morning, we wandered around downtown and I thoroughly enjoyed the city. On Saturday night, the drag ball happened. Above is Kristina dressed as a drag queen--and because it's Vermont, she needed to try the outfit with snow boots.
Grease, Brokeback, and the prom, oh my!
I decided that I was James Bond. Thanks to Meesh's contribution of suspenders and a bow tie, my tux jacket totally became a tuxedo! Good thing I was dressed as James Bond because I needed my stealth skills for a bit of light breaking and entering that night.
Chin-dancing! When we got to Higher Ground for the party, we wandered around the venue and eventually found our way into the little room where they were actually playing dance music. 
So we danced.
No, seriously, my only dance move is to turn my head at oblique angles.
I wonder what's going on to the right.
Introducing: The Breadwinner! On our way back into the big room because the little room was full, Meesh ran into her friend from camp whom she hadn't seen in many years. "Take a picture of me and Chuck!" was my introduction to the Breadwinner.
James Bond meets Brokeback Mountain.
Those fish were actually coming from a drag queen's 3-foot-tall head piece. Those of us under 5'2" kept getting fished in the eye all night. Aforementioned drag queen also had a knack for finding my ankle with her stilettos.
Sometime around now, I went into the bathroom and saw a woman I assumed was dressed as/looked like Alison Bechdel (only my favorite writer ever whom I saw speak at Smith once but was too fangirl nervous to actually ask her about why when she changed publishers, her books went from HQ to PN, which implies a de-queering, in my opinion). I made a dumb joke to her about the lack of toilet paper. So dumb, in fact, that I have erased it from my memory, I just know that it happened. She smiled and washed her hands, then left the bathroom. Later on, I found out that she was at the drag ball (a post on her blog which she has mysteriously deleted). Which means that I said something stupid to Alison Bechdel. Alas.
I spent a lot of time imagining what I must be saying or explaining in this picture. "Ya see, first ya take it by the tail and, are ya' followin' me?"
And the rest is history.
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