Alan Ilagan

No matter what happens with the Senate’s vote (or non-vote) on marriage equality, Andy and I will always have this: http://www.timesunion.com/opinion/article/N-Y-should-allow-gays-to-marry-1426180.php

Sometimes the love of a parent – and the unconditional support only they can offer – means more than anything else in the world. Once again, love trumps injustice, love conquers discrimination, and love obliterates all arguments against itself. That’s what marriage has always been about – love. The fact that a strict, practicing Catholic like my Mom can see that is proof that this issue is not about religion.

For me, marriage has only been about love. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be? Granted, there are numerous laws and rights that go along with it, but I’ve always considered those beside the point. Andy and I got married because we loved one another, and wanted to make that commitment. How does this threaten the institution of marriage? How does it do anything but embolden and celebrate it?

Those who are opposed to same-sex marriage are, in essence, attacking marriage itself. They are against the whole idea that two people who love each other should be so joined. They are the ones who are turning marriage into something other than the simple union of two people who want to spend their lives together.

As for Andy and myself, we’re lucky enough to be surrounded with loving and caring friends and family who fully support our marriage. No legislature, no government, and no religion will ever change that.

Here’s my Mom’s letter as published by the Times Union:

I believe marriage equality will eventually become the law of the land. New York may choose to be one of the first or one of the last states to grant this basic right. I hope we will go down in history as being a leader rather than a follower.

History rarely criticizes societies for granting human rights. On the contrary, it condemns human rights violations. Marriage is an ancient, venerable institution, due the utmost respect. Individuals are also due the utmost respect. Marriage is, in part, a public institution in the sense that it carries legal rights guaranteed by civil law. It is also private in its nature, involving only the married couple.

In 1974, I married a man of a different race. At that time, there were places right here in the United States where my marriage would have been viewed as a crime. The Alabama state Senate did not repeal the ban on interracial marriage until 1999. Yes, 1999.

The arguments against interracial marriage were similar to the arguments against gay marriage, in the sense that they were based on ignorance. My marriage of nearly 37 years has neither undermined nor damaged the institution of marriage. It has had no effect on the marriage of anyone else. Similarly, the marriage of a gay couple could not impair the marriage of any other couple. Unfortunately, these arguments die slowly.

I urge the state Senate to finally pass the Marriage Equality Act. There is no valid reason not to do so.

-  Laurel Ilagan, Amsterdam, NY

In this week, when gay marriage is the hot topic, and New York State seems ever closer to making it a reality, I am reminded of how close we came two years ago, and because of that I will not get my hopes up this time. For my own selfish, emotional reasons, I cannot let myself get caught up in the possibility of what might be, only to have it taken away and defeated in another moment of shameful support for discrimination. It hurts too much.

I’ve been fighting for this for years – in letters to the editor, letters to Senators, on this blog, in the real world, in interactions with friends and family, and in my day-to-day existence living openly as a gay man. If gay marriage doesn’t become law in New York State, it will not change my relationship with Andy. It will not negate our love or diminish what we have together. It will not be fair or just, but it will not break my heart.

And so, I offer what I wrote two years ago, as a reminder. Hopefully it will not hold true again:

To the 38 New York State Senators who voted against gay marriage today:

You have done your best to deny me and countless others a basic civil right.

You have done your best to prevent loving couples from being legally joined and recognized as such.

You have done your best to stop me from marrying the man I love.

You have failed.

Next year I will marry my fiancé Andy in Massachusetts, and New York will recognize that marriage as it currently does for all gay marriages performed in states and territories where it is legal. Each of you Senators who voted against it today will be forced to recognize my gay marriage next year. You will also be forced to recognize that you have lost all my votes, all the money that would have remained in New York State, and all the respect and honor you would have earned historically, morally, and personally.

There is nothing moral about denying love, and there is nothing honorable about delaying civil rights.

What you wanted to stop is one man from loving another man, and one woman from loving another woman.

What you wanted to stop is a loving partnership between two devoted people.

What you wanted to stop is love – and that’s the one thing you cannot stop.

You can deny us our rights for as long as I’m alive, but you will never stop me from loving Andy. You cannot touch us – you cannot reach that love – and it must absolutely tear away at your very soul, because that’s the only reason I can think of for even attempting to stand in the way of love. But that is on your conscience, and your vote is on the record for all time, and you’re the ones who have to live with it.

- 2009

This is probably one of the only times I will post something from Fox News, but this is worth it.

When we got married, Andy and I did so out of rather selfish, non-heroic reasons: we loved one another and wanted to commit to each other under a sacred bond, and the blessings of family and friends. We just wanted to formally declare our love and create an official legal partnership. We had no social agenda or political motivation, so the idea of our union paving the way for gay marriage equality never really crossed our minds.

It wasn’t until we were opening the cards and gifts from friends and family that the greater extent and meaning of what we had done came to full realization. We were two gay men who had dared to marry each other, when it’s not even legal in our home state or most of our country, and then celebrate our union in front of 200 people – doctors, lawyers, police officers, co-workers, a Congressman, and family and friends from across the continent. A few of the letters expressed thanks for furthering marriage equality, something neither Andy nor myself thought much about prior to this.

It was an elegantly-framed poem written by a friend that may have affected us the most. To begin with, anyone who can write a poem is pretty impressive for that reason alone. I’ve always found poetry to be one of the most difficult forms of writing to accomplish well. (Somehow I squeaked through with a ‘B’ in the sole poetry course I took at Brandeis, and that was just analyzing poems by others, not writing anything ourselves. Good thing, because, to put it simply and unpoetically, I suck at it.)

Someone who doesn’t suck at it is our friend Skip Montross, whose virtues I extolled a few weeks ago, and who turns out to be the pretty damn good poet who penned the poem for us. That it was written by a straight guy moved us both – that it was from great friends like Skip and Sherri was even more touching. I knew Skip was a good guy – I didn’t know how good until we read this:

“His and His Towels”

By Skip Montross

We searched both high and low,

For the perfect gift to give.

Something that you’d remember,

For as long as you both shall live.

But they don’t make his and his towels you see,

What you’re doing is kind of new.

Sadly the world isn’t there yet,

They’ve not caught up to you.

Some people are convinced,

That theirs is the only way.

They say marriage is not the right of every man,

Especially those who are gay.

But yet you’re both defiant,

And your love you do not hide.

Brave and boastful you share it,

Full of both beauty and of pride.

Those of us who’ve known you,

Through your long and storied past.

Know that yours is the truest of loves,

The kind to ever last.

And as you drink and dance and laugh,

Take a look at your gathered friends,

For in the face of arrogant ignorance,

They stand with you till’ the end.

But worry not of that this night,

Just bask in joy and glory.

For tonight we choose to celebrate,

The “Andy and Alan” story.

(PS to Skip – This totally makes up for changing into a golf-shirt half-way through the evening against my express wishes. All is forgiven.)

Andy and I spent a long weekend in Boston, MA, where we applied for our wedding license. En route to the paperwork, we passed by this auspicious sign:

Neither of us was quite sure what to expect as far as obtaining a wedding license went, particularly as we approached the monolithic cement structure of City Hall. I’ve passed it a zillion times but never entered.

We made our way to the Marriage counter, where we stood in line behind a friendly lesbian couple from New York City. (The state of New York ended up losing out on $100. in paperwork during the brief five minutes of our application process, which we were all too happy to give to a neighboring state that supports our right to marry.)

After the quick and painless procedure, we made our way to Quincy Market for lunch.

The snowdrops were just beginning to bloom, and we managed to avoid rain for the entire day and night.

To celebrate, we had dinner at the Top of the Hub. Neither of us had ever been to this Boston mainstay, but it was well worth the unintentional wait, and after sampling what they had to offer, we agreed that it would be  ideal location for our wedding rehearsal dinner. I started off with the Level 52 (a martini named for the restaurant’s location on the 52nd floor of the Prudential Building, and its use of Level vodka).

Shortly after we were seated, a couple sat down at the table next to us. The girl was nicely turned out in a simple black dress, and a silver peace-sign ring on one hand betraying her age. Her companion was in a rumpled dress shirt one size too big for him, and hair in need of a little more product. I looked at Andy and asked, “Are these two people…”

“Twelve?” he finished.

Okay, they weren’t twelve, but they were not a day over eighteen years old. However, they were very well behaved, and I found it reassuring when the girl unabashedly ate three pieces of bread slathered in butter – date be damned.

On the other side of our table was a couple from Austria, who began with champagne and then had their red wine decanted by candlelight. (Among the three tables, there were three distinct levels of sophistication – and we were right smack dib in the middle.) As we finished up our dinner (swordfish for me, seared tuna for Andy), the waiter asked if we were celebrating any special event and we explained that we had just registered for our wedding license. He congratulated us both and returned with our dessert menus.

In what may have been the sweetest and most hopeful moment of the evening, the young woman next to us looked our way and offered her congratulations.

“Well, we’ve been together for nine years, so it’s really just a formality,” I said. “But thank you.”

“Even so, that’s great,” her companion said. Andy and I thanked them again.

High above Boston, the future sounded bright and simple in the eyes of a couple of kids half my age, whose poise and grace and unquestioning acceptance moved me immensely, and whose silly jewelry and wrinkled shirt would be ironed out in the next few years.

On the way out, one of my favorite flowers – the gloriosa lily – stood in a tall vase before the elevators as Andy got our coats. A glorious ending to a perfect weekend.

Andy and I saw ‘A Single Man’ last night. If I were asked if I liked it immediately after it ended, I would have said no, it was disappointing. However, like many great movies (and some amazing songs) it has since haunted my head, and I find little remnants of it replaying themselves in my mind, lending a resonance and fullness that I hadn’t noticed upon my first viewing.

It was most moving when it showed how the relationship between the male lead and his partner of sixteen years was more real and profound than most of the marriages around them, yet how isolating and alone it became in a time when being gay meant being invisible.

In an age where we still have to fight for gay marriage, where ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ will likely be on the books for the next few years, and where a gay kiss can’t be shown during the Superbowl, I wonder how much has actually changed.

All I know is that I’m grateful that Andy is with me, and I can’t - and would never want to  - imagine a life without him.

Yesterday I finally finished the formal invitations to our wedding ceremony in Boston. This piece of hand-made paper served as inspiration for the color scheme, and the birds fit into the theme as well (being that these were also inspired by The Trumpet of the Swan by E.B. White.)

The invitation is housed in an old-fashioned hat-box, which I had to paint, re-paint, and re-paint again until I found the exact shade that worked. The top was covered in the aviary-themed paper; the bottom was fitted with a fabric pad covered in turquoise Thai silk.

Inside, the invitation itself is actually a book I made that tells the story of Andy and me. It is covered in the same paper and tied with a silk ribbon.

It is printed on Watercolor paper, which was chosen for its texture, tint, and elegant-but-still-rustic simplicity.

I bound the book myself, using a Japanese book-binding technique, and some perfectly-hued embroidery floss.

Stamps and colored-ink were combined with traditional printing to produce the inner pages.

The book rests on a chartreuse velvet pillow (and quite a bit of practice was necessary to craft a proper circular pillow). It seems like it should be easier than it actually was – I mean, it’s just a circle, but what a difficult thing a circle is to sew.

A bit of tufting in the center and a single Swarovski crystal finished the pillow off, creating a fitting bed for a very special book.

It is easily the best invitation we will ever send out. (And fortunately also the smallest in number – only seven people will receive one. There’s simply no way I could make another.)