Refugees of a red state

In our Raleigh neighborhood, back in North Carolina, we were known as "those women who live together," and it always surprised me that we were known at all. I kept forgetting that two women making a life together, not to mention a baby, was a bit unusual, exotic even, not to mention illegal. But here in Portland, Oregon, our life is no longer illicit, and we are in no way remarkable. We could well be the most boring people here. We even came with Subarus, which seem to be a prerequisite for moving into our current neighborhood.

So I guess I should not have expected the non-event that was our registering as domestic partners to be anything more than a bureaucratic chore - one more form to fill out to qualify for health care benefits, one more line to cross off of our to do list. Still, it felt extraordinarily mundane, perhaps because we didn't actually fill out any forms. Or show any ID. Or give the folks at the Multinomah County offices any information whatsoever. We did have to fork over 60 bucks. That and our signatures got us a Certificate of Domestic Partnership and a card that read: "Congratulations on this important day! Best Wishes For the Future, (signed) Diane Linn, County Chair."

It seems to me, this whole domestic partnership thing is like a bone they've thrown us so we won't notice the steak on their plates. The fact that it was so easy to qualify is a testament to how meaningless the designation is. Afterwards, we had coffee (for Anna) and cocoa (for me) and a cookie while sitting outside in the freezing cold because there were no tables inside the coffee shop. It seemed an appropriate reception. Before Anna headed back to work and I hopped on a bus for home, we kissed each other goodbye, on the lips, in broad daylight. It was our very first public display of affection. I had been anticipating it, wondering if Anna would turn her cheek to me as she always does, diffusing a show of love into a friendly peck. I wonder if she thought of it, as I did, as a conscious and deliberate act to mark our new life together.