Proposition 8 (or the California Marriage Protection Act) was a ballot proposition passed in the November 2008 state elections. The measure added a new provision to the California Constitution. The new section reads:
Only marriage between a man and a woman is valid or recognized in California.By restricting the definition of marriage to opposite-sex couples, the proposition overturned the California Supreme Court’s ruling that same-sex couples have a constitutional right to marry. — Wikipedia
Why do straight people in California go blank when I tell them that Proposition 8 has made it illegal for me to marry? Or worse, they want to argue when they don’t have a clue. Citizens of California have a virulent case of denial.
Prop 8 took away my fantasy wedding. Though I dream of the Supreme Court overturning Prop 8, I might not have a chance to marry in this lifetime. So let me tell you — sit down this will take awhile– I will tell you about my fantasy wedding (one of them anyway).
Elephants – there have to be elephants. The wedding is in the key of India with Native American, Leather and Russian notes. My beloved boi and I ride separate elephants under the sumptuously decorated tent, like Teatro Zinzanni but bigger. We undulate towards each other with our elephant bodies from opposing ends of the tent, and stop in the middle.
It is midnight. The attendants, dressed in gold and raspberry jester suits and Maharaja slippers, help us dismount from the elephants,, and lead them away. My face is veiled; hys is not. Hy smiles at me, I hide behind my veil and pretend I don’t see. My face if hy could see it, would be serious with plum lipstick.
My dress is gold and so is my veil. The dress is gold lace that brushes the floor, and hugs my curves. The neckline plunges in front and in back. I carry a small, simple bunch of white violets, which also circle my head around the veil. My sandals too are gold with a comfortable heel.
My boi wears black leather pants and vest, worn over a white blouson-sleeve shirt with open lace-up ties at the chest. Hys boots and leathers are immaculately polished and shined. Hy also wears black leather gloves, and hys hair gleams with a fresh buzz cut.
Next, we mount side-by-side thrones on a platform, where young boys and maidens offer us trays of nuts and delicacies, and champagne. We clink our flute glasses, and as if on cue, all of the humans disappear, except for us. The elephants reappear, they are painted with colorful chalk designs and flowers. Behind them, a corps de ballet of storks lines up and assumes position. The lights dim, and music swells. The elephants and storks delight us with an amusing, yet stately waltz.
That is a piece of my femme fantasy wedding, that I can’t have because of Prop 8. To be continued….
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