Decades of Loving

How could I feel anything but fondness for a marriage case where those arguing for the right to marry were named "Loving?"

I thought it best to get that out of the way early.

In June, the month when so many Americans celebrate wedding anniversaries, this country has been marking the 40th anniversary of Loving vs. Virginia, the landmark case that ended bans on interracial marriage, and has symbolic and practical meaning for today's tussle on behalf of gay marriage.

Though this isn't precisely a wedding anniversary, it's certainly worth celebrating. If you feel like sending Mildred Loving a token of thanks, well, it's gonna cost you--the traditional 40th anniversary gift is rubies.

Mildred Loving recently sent the gay community a gift, in the form of a statement marking the anniversary. She recounted how in 1958 she and her late husband Richard were arrested in the middle of the night in their own bedroom for the appalling crime of . . . marrying.

You see, Richard Loving was white, and Mildred Jeter was African-American and Native American. The state of Virginia forbade marriage between a white person and a non-white person, so the sheriffs were enforcing the law, and throwing some late-night terror into the bargain.

After the Lovings were found guilty, Judge Leon Bazile declared, "Almighty God created the races white, black, yellow, Malay and red, and he placed them on separate continents. And but for the interference with his arrangement there would be no cause for such marriages. The fact that he separated the races shows that he did not intend for the races to mix."

Case closed. Brain too.

The judge sentenced these public enemies to a year in prison, suspending it if they left Virginia for 25 years. They moved to the District of Columbia, and began the legal struggle that would lead to the U.S. Supreme Court. Mildred Loving stressed that she and Richard didn't fight for a political cause, but "for our love."

That works, too.

In 1967 the Supreme Court ruled unanimously that Virginia's anti-miscegenation law was unconstitutional. Bye-bye Virginia's "Racial Integrity Act of 1924," and goodbye all race restrictions on marriage in this country. (Call it "The Long Goodbye"—in 2000 Alabama became the last state to junk its law against mixed-race nuptials).

The Supreme Court's decision referred to marriage as a "basic civil right." Such a concept!

Loving said that most of her generation accepted the idea that God wanted the races kept apart, and government should act as the moat. She's pleased, now that she's a grandmother, to see younger people believe differently.

Each day she thinks about what it meant to her to be free "to marry the person precious to me," even when plenty of people reacted as though she had married a garter snake.

"I believe all Americans, no matter their race, no matter their sex, no matter their sexual orientation, should have that same freedom to marry. Government has no business imposing some people's religious beliefs over others. Especially if it denies people's civil rights."

You tell 'em, Mildred.

She finished her statement by saying, "I am still not a political person, but I am proud that Richard's and my name is on a court case that can help reinforce the love, the commitment, the fairness, and the family that so many people, black or white, young or old, gay or straight seek in life. I support the freedom to marry for all. That's what Loving, and loving, are all about."

I've no doubt that foes of marriage equality can trot out mixed-race couples who oppose gays marrying. That's okay. I'm just happy we have reserved, determined, accidentally trailblazing Mildred Loving on our side.

When the Skies Get Too Friendly

I like to bring a degree of balance to this column. Though the world provides more than enough material for me to concentrate exclusively on the miscues, ignorance and buffoonery of straight folks, I prefer a more equal opportunity approach.

So I keep an eye out for silly gay people, too. Fortunately for me, someone's always willing to step into that role.

Everybody knows that flying can be a real trial these days, and when you have an individual like John Michael Moody II on your flight, the train starts to look pretty good. Hell, walking starts to look good.

Moody's recent brush with fame and the law began in Indianapolis, reported The Florida Times-Union, which drew much of its story from an arrest affidavit filed in court. A lawyer from South Florida, Moody, 43, boarded a Southwest Airlines flight and asked, "Where is the gay section?"

Considering what happened next, somebody should've told him it was outside on the wing.

The plane took off for Florida, specifically Jacksonville and Fort Lauderdale. Moody and three friends took off for heights of their own, boozing from an alcohol stash in his carry-on luggage.

Flight attendant Cory Cash had a flight he'll never forget, as he spent much of it fending off Moody's advances. He said Moody groped his back, stomach and rear end. Moody asked Cash when they could make out, and invited him into the lavatory for sex.

I feel guilty if I ask for a second glass of water.

The flight attendant declined Moody's suave offers, and told him to return to his seat. Moody, co-owner of a Broward County title company, responded with curses and verbal abuse.

When Cash noted there were children on board, Moody grabbed a child in line for the bathroom and said, "This child?" Moody then raised the child over his head and headed up the aisle.

To the sloshed lawyer, that might've seemed amusing. To the child's parent, that might've been grounds for trying to beat Moody senseless with a tiny bag of peanuts.

Moody continued being boisterous until the flight landed in Jacksonville, where, at the firm request of the captain, police removed him from the plane.

Federal air marshals charged Moody with interfering with a flight crew, which carries a maximum 20-year sentence and $250,000 fine.

His arrest occurred at 12:30 in the morning. Later that day he found himself in court, presumably with a 747-sized hangover.

The assistant U.S. attorney told U.S. Magistrate Howard T. Snyder that it would be hunky-dory with him if Moody were released on his own recognizance. After all, it was alcohol that caused Moody's behavior, and the fellow is a member in good standing of the Florida Bar.

"I don't care what he's a member of," Snyder sniped. "If he did what he's charged with, it doesn't matter if he's Saint Anybody."

Snyder set bail at $10,000 and required a $2,000 deposit before Saint Anybody could be sprung.

The Times-Union said Moody has been in grief counseling over the recent death of his sister. It also said he has a bankruptcy in his past, although he owns a $685,000 home in Broward County.

I assume the lawyer that Moody hires will provide reasons and excuses for why he fondled a flight attendant and doomed a child to therapy.

Snyder gets to sort all that out. I just hope that the judge deals with Moody as he would a straight guy who had gone all hands and mouth 30,000 feet in the air. Moody shouldn't be punished for being gay. He should be punished, if things happened as reported, for being abusive, menacing and more stupid than Billy Carter.

A Pink Iron Curtain

In great swaths of the world, spring makes gay people think of Pride, the annual mixture of party and politics. In Eastern Europe, spring makes gay people think of Pride, the annual mixture of bans and brutality.

Freedom might've come to Eastern Europe, but official and unofficial forces are striving mightily to see that it doesn’t come to everybody.

Look at the goings-on in teeny Moldova, formerly part of the Soviet Union. Local authorities banned a gay Pride march in the capital city of Chisinau for the third straight year—despite a ruling by the Moldovan Supreme Court that the previous year's ban was illegal.

Ruling? What ruling?

About 20 exasperated gays staged a protest. Some 30 counter-protestors hurled insults and eggs. The gays tried to lay flowers at the Monument to the Victims of Repression, but police prevented that, so they laid them at the feet of the police.

Not a bad second choice, symbolism-wise.

Boris Balanetkii, leader of Moldova's gay activist group GenderDoc-M, said that "we will do our best to ensure that next year's public demonstration by the LGBT community will take place not just as a protest action but as proper Pride Parade."

In this country we debate whether Pride still has a purpose. In that country it represents freedoms they've never had, the right to assemble and to free speech. Along with an unparalleled opportunity to scope each other out.

Moldova has hope of seeing a real Pride, if Poland is any indication. No, I haven't been swilling Polish vodka.

Yes, Poland has been in the news lately over a government plan to make it criminal to "promote homosexual propaganda" in schools; also, the children's rights watchdog suggested an investigation into whether "Teletubbies" character Tinky Winky promotes homosexuality to pint-sized Poles. Jerry Falwell lives.

But in addition to all this came the news that over 5,000 people marched in Warsaw's first legally sanctioned Pride parade.

In 2004, 2005 and 2006 the mayor nixed parades. That mayor, Lech Kaczynski, is now the president of Poland. The only good thing about that is Poland's capital city has a new mayor, and she said yes to the parade.

Hanna Gronkiewicz Walz pointed to the recent decision by the European Court of Human Rights that her predecessor acted in illegal and discriminatory fashion by banning the marches. Maybe the marchers passed the president's residence and blew a big kiss to Kaczynski.

The Warsaw parade had a heavy police presence, and in the Latvian capital of Riga, police and riot police outnumbered both Pride-goers and protestors. Roughly 500 folks marched in a parade in a Riga park.

If this sounds like small Latvian potatoes to you, don't scoff yet. In 2005 Latvians held their first Pride, and about 150 marchers faced some 1,000 opponents who threw bottles and rotten eggs. In 2006 Riga officials banned the parade, so organizers held meetings instead, and Christians, neo-Nazis and ultranationalists pelted attendees with rotten food and human feces.

To think my greatest problem at Pride is finding a parking place.

In April a Latvian court ruled that last year's ban had been illegal, clearing the way for this year's event. With such history, no wonder Linda Freimane of Mozaika, the group organizing Pride, said, "If we don't do it again this year then we give in to the illegal, violent forces who can limit other people's rights just by smothering them."

I don't have space to tell you about the Russian capital's recent experience, but by now if I shorthand Moscow you'll get the gist: supremely homophobic mayor . . . Pride banned . . . gays presented petition . . . eggs, kicks, punches . . . police arrested gays . . . from Russia with no love.

Officially Befuddled

I now declare that keeping track of which state offers what kind of protections to gay couples has officially become difficult. Hold on a second while I dip my signet ring in sealing wax.

When only a couple of states had ventured to give gay and lesbian couples legal standing, keeping track was easy. Now as more states acknowledge gay relationships, it's hard to sort out who has what where.

I'm not stepping into quicksand, the argument over whether gays should pursue only marriage or go for the facsimiles. My point is that, good or bad, the facsimiles are here. And they're already frazzling my brain.

Let's begin in New Hampshire, where the governor just signed a law establishing civil unions. Gay New Hampshirites who enter into a civil union will have the same rights and responsibilities as married folks. From inheritance rights to the right to bicker incessantly over taking out the trash.

New Hampshire joins Vermont, Connecticut and New Jersey as the states currently offering civil unions. Okay, that's four states. Four. I can remember that.

And I can certainly remember that only one state allows same-sex marriage: Alabama. Just keeping you on your toes. Massachusetts is the notable one, although anti-equality Massachusettsans are still battling to remove that distinction.

So that's a total of five states with civil unions or marriage. Five. I feel like I'm doing an episode of "Sesame Street."

Now things get squirrelly. The governors of Washington and Oregon each recently signed a domestic partnership law. The Washington law provides some of the rights of marriage; the Oregon law provides many of the rights of marriage, so the Oregon domestic partnership law is really more like a civil union.

Likewise, California has over time expanded its domestic partnership statutes, so becoming domestic partners there is like being in a civil union. Which is like being in a marriage.

Methinks it's time to buy stock in ibuprofen.

Maine and the District of Columbia conclude the list of those offering domestic partnerships.

Hawaii has something called "reciprocal beneficiaries," and at this point I don't even want to know what that is.

So Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Vermont, Connecticut, New Jersey, California, Oregon, Washington, Maine, D.C. and Hawaii provide some form of legal recognition for gay relationships. That's 10 states and one district.

And we're still in the early stages of this process. Forget the stock, I'm just laying in the ibuprofen.

If you're as bad at geography as I am at math, let me point out for you that all this action has essentially been on the coasts. So far in the battle for marriage rights, the story is location, location, location.

To make things yet livelier, the laws in some of these 11 regions will change. A case before Connecticut's Supreme Court could lead to civil unions being thrown over for marriage. California's high court will have the chance to ditch domestic partnerships for marriage.

You know, of all the reasons for same-sex marriage, the fact that it's so much easier to keep track of is fast becoming my favorite.

In addition to monitoring those states that may offer their citizens an upgrade to first class, I also have to keep tabs on how regions, with or without laws recognizing gay couples, choose to handle each other and their own relentlessly commitment-minded gays.

A judge in New York just ruled that the marriages of Empire State gay couples who wed in Massachusetts before New York banned gay marriage are valid.

Never before have I wished the U.S. had about five states instead of 50.