I was wrong about Amendment One.
Initially, I opposed the constitutional amendment for the same reasons as most Durham and Orange Countians: Equality, Freedom, Justice. But that was before someone pointed out that justice doesn’t stand a chance when just desserts are on the table.
My original shortlist of reasons to vote against:
Fundamentally, the Amendment was a huge distraction from the real question we kept avoiding: could we rein in the greed that was rapidly making our planet uninhabitable? Given escalating poverty, marginalization, and the destructive power of global warming, did any humans have a prayer of surviving another 100 years, whatever their orientation?
But all those reasons melted away when I realized that if Amendment One failed, my husband would surely leave me for another man. Two men, actually. Ben. And Jerry.
A colleague sent me a quotation from the Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary explaining that if marriage was “radically redefined as being just a way of affirming private feelings of loving attraction, then equality will require people who love … ice cream to marry ice cream.”
I froze in my Moose Tracks. If my husband had to choose between me and ice cream? He’d be on the courthouse steps in no time, Ben and Jerry’s Cinnamon Buns in hand.
Love will find a way.