My experience: How DOMA allows for legal discrimination at the very point of entry into the USA

Yesterday at JFK International airport, as I re-entered the United States with my legal spouse after traveling abroad for two months, I was to be separated from my spouse while he was taken by officials for questioning about his true identity.

This same scenario occurred a year ago at JFK International airport. My spouse, Mr. Jose Ortiz, a guidance counselor in the public schools of New York City, has been, on more than one occasion, confused with a criminal by the same name.

Last year was the first time that this happened to us upon re-entry into the US. It was somewhat traumatic for me to be potentially separated from my then-11-year life partner (this was just a couple days before our legal civil marriage was to take place). The officer was asking Jose to "follow me" without any explanation and telling me to remain behind. I refused to be separated especially not knowing what was taking place. A superior officer granted me permission to remain with Jose after my explanation that we had "domestic certification" with New York City. It was traumatic at the time: the feeling of law officers separating us without being able to communicate with each other and without being told why we were being separated. I observed, while remaining with Jose in the room where the identity process was conducted, that whole families (spouses and children) entered the room together when only one of the spouses was being questioned. In other (heterosexual) families, the policy is to NOT separate spouses and children during this process – a very wise policy for sure – seeing how potentially traumatic it can be to be separated at this point of entry (for foreigners) and re-entry (for Americans).

This year, when the same thing happened, I was of course less traumatized. But nonetheless, the experience was a bit unnerving (as any legal process can be when law officials are involved and they are leading your spouse away from you without any explanation). When I refused to be separated from Jose "because we are legally married" the officer responded "not here" and laughed (more at the situation, it turns out, than at us or my request). And of course, being in an airport where the jurisdiction is Federal, DOMA does not recognize my legal marriage (which took place in California on August 25, 2008). I ignored his comment "not here" and insisted that since I was married in California and that since NY State recognizes my marriage, I am married. (Hence his laugh, as I look back on it. That is, how interesting that I was passing through a no-man's land where just before entrance I was legally married; as I passed through I was not legally married; and once I was to exit a few paces after our encounter, I would be legally married again.)

The officer who laughed did grant me permission to enter the room with Jose for the processing of his identity and passport. So we were not, in the end, separated; but only because I insisted.

This experience, in which we could have been separated legally from one another on the basis of DOMA, is a stark realization that our marriage is only legally so-so depending on where we are and what the laws are in that given place. I'm wondering now about certain States: what could happen in hospitals where States do not, constitutionally, allow for same-sex marriages.

This weekend I travel with Jose to Colorado for a conference over Labor Day weekend. We will be renting a car. If there is an accident in which Jose is injured, could the hospital in Colorado legally forbid me to be with Jose in the emergency room? After all, I believe Colorado is one of those more-than-30 states which have amended their constitution to read that marriage is only between opposite sexes. Hence, my marriage in California is not recognized in Colorado, I assume.

DOMA needs to be repealed, and of course, Bill Clinton is now on record as regretting he signed DOMA, and President Obama has promised the LGBT community that he will push for our equal rights.

It would be nice next summer to be able to re-enter my country without having to be separated from my spouse as other heterosexual married couples are not when only one spouse needs special processing. That all depends on DOMA's status, no doubt.

And, whoever that other Jose Ortiz is out there - - - well, you've got a name I really like, so if you are in trouble with the law – clean up your act. And as for DOMA, it needs to go away, otherwise it may be my name that's in trouble with the law some day because I don't intend to have government separate me from my spouse without fully understanding what is going on. For now, I'm writing my Congressman about my unhappy experience with DOMA and the unjust and discriminating treatment I received under the law -- that is, DOMA allows for legal discrimination at the very point of entry into the USA. I wonder how the Lady with the lamp feels about that!

Above photo: Beijing International Airport, point of departure before re-entry into the USA.

The lady from Kuala Lumpur and the "Crying" Twin Towers

It was late afternoon when we arrived in Kuala Lumpur from Singapore by bus. We had an evening speaking engagement at 8pm and were to leave early the next morning for Lumut, a west cost town. That meant we had a small window of time to visit the Twin Towers of Kuala Lumpur. We were met at the bus station by a new friend we had made the weekend before at a retreat we had attended in Port Dickson, Malaysia. He was happy to see us and eager to take us to the Twin Towers and then on to our evening meeting. We checked in to the hotel, took with us the items we needed for the meeting and were off to the Twin Towers by the city trains with our friendly guide. It was a perfect day. We took pictures along the way: a Mosque here, city buildings there.

Our second and final train took us under the city. It was then that my thoughts and feelings transported me to another time when I was under that other city and on my way to another set of Twin Towers. It was 9-11 and I was making my way from Jackson Heights, Queens, to Rockefeller Center where I worked for a law firm as a paralegal. It was a large law firm that held 13 floors of Rockefeller Center. I worked in an area of the building that had a direct view of both Towers. Daily I took in the view with a sense of awe, inspiration and pure delight. On this day -- 9-11 -- I was struck with horror and disbelief like all New Yorkers as I looked out upon the burning towers upon my arrival to work around 9:30am.

Now -- here in Kuala Lumpur -- I was under the city approaching the Twin Towers. Different feelings came to the surface. One feeling in particular I had to wilfully dismiss. It was, "How could they do that to us? Did they cry for us when it happened?" I couldn't get the thought out of my head. I immediately divorced the first "they" from the second "they." The first "they" were the extremists. The second "they" were the general populace presently all around me in their Muslim garb. One gentleman sitting there on the train caught my eyes. As he looked at me, I smiled at him -- it is a regular practice of mine to smile at strangers who may glance my way. He smiled back and it helped me bring things into perspective.

We left the train at our Twin Tower station and ascended the stairs. As we came to the huge mull area that is situated under the Twin Towers, we had our first glimpse towards the light of day. It was pouring. That small window of opportunity to stand at the base of the Towers had closed on us. Like the tourist I was, I was heartbroken. Our guide and friend turned to us and suggested we go to the food court and try some Malaysian deserts while we wait. As we made our way to the fourth or fifth floor -- the mull opening up before us like the modern cathedral it was -- I felt comforted by the rain, not cheated of an opportunity. The rain was fitting. I felt it was just as it should be. My partner, Jose, and our Malaysian friend, kept hounding me to keep up with them. But I was reflective. It slowed my pace some.

At the food court, we sat right up against huge windows. In fact, the whole wall was a window. I could see a large part of the Kuala Lumpur skyline. And it was all grey. Streaking grey with the descending rain. Jose and our friend talked and talked as I observed the skies. The heavens were crying for the 9-11 Twin Towers of NYC. The heavens understood my feelings here. My first trip to the Twin Towers since 2001, and the heavens understood. I was comforted by the rain. Jose, my life partner of 12 years who knows me well, could see I was in a different space. He put his arm around me. "It is fitting, you know, that it is raining," I told him. I held back the turns.

A week and two days later, we were at the foot of Penang Hill on Penang Island, Malaysia, waiting to take the incline to the top of the mountain. A lady from Kuala Lumpur, just two years my senior, was there with her family. We had a twenty minute wait. Conversation began between us all -- her family and Jose and me and an Englishman who was spending the afternoon and evening with us.

Then of course the obvious question: "Did you go to the Twin Towers in Kuala Lumpur." I was standing somewhat center and I just said it. My reflections. I told them about the rain. I told them how I had seen the Twin Towers ablaze in New York City. I told them how as I was approaching the Twin Towers of Kuala Lumpur that all those feelings came back. I told them, then, how it rained, but that instead of feeling cheated out of my touring plans, the rain was a comfort. The skies were crying for me.

How silly of me. The poet taking the pulpit. But there, I said it. Jose was somewhat supportive. He turned to the Englishman and said I could be reflective like this, feeling my feelings. It was something Jose had told me attracted me to him.

The lady from Kuala Lumpur was supportive, too. Everyone else stood mute. Not a word. Not she. She said our life traumas are still there at some level and things like this can bring us back to that time and place where the trauma first impacted us. She was smiling as she spoke. The affirmation felt good.

But little did I know just how well she really understood until we boarded the incline train all still together this family with Jose and me and the Englishman. And then she told us all. It was her turn to speak what she was recalling.

You see, in 1963 when she was but 12 years old, her mother ascended this very incline while she remained below. That was the last time she was to see her mother alive. An heart attack took her mother from her at the top of the mountain. I believe this was only the second time since then that she had made the trip to the top. It had been about 30 years since she was here for her last time.

I could see now how well she understood me when I had said it was fitting that it was raining at the Towers of Kuala Lumpur.

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(As it turned out, we were able to view the Towers briefly when the rain let up that late afternoon, and in the late evening, at night, we viewd the Towers for a second. An attende at the seminar took us to the Towers by car. In this photo, you see Jose and the Towers at night, Thursday, August 13, 2009)

On the steps of Wat Phra That Doi Suthep (Chiang Mai, Thialand): An expression of Love, Belonging and Completeness.

by Steve Parelli, Chiang Mai, Thailand. July 15, 2009 (year 2552 in Thailand).

As we slowly descended the long staircase of 306 steps shortly after our temple compound experience of Doi Suthep, Jose turned to me somewhat suddenly and with a warm embrace and the tilt of his head to my shoulder, he said something like "don't ever leave me."

I forget the exact words, but I remember their context. By "leaving" he met, "departing this life."

You see, just as we were about to leave the temple area after our more than two-hour visit, we met a young gay Thai man who was entering the temple area to worship . . . and he was all alone. We caught each other's eye and smile and knew in a moment that he was "family." After introductions were made, and the "yes-I'm-gay"-and-"I-thought-so" remarks, we sat and talked briefly. Like most people who upon learning that Jose and I have been together for 12 years, our new friend smiled gleefully and congratulated us. Then we asked about him. Did he have a boyfriend? "No," he said. But he had had a boyfriend. They were together for six years. And then, just six months ago his boyfriend died suddenly -- he was killed in a motorcycle accident. Our temple friend had moved from his rural town to start life over again in the big city of Chiang Mai. It was too much to continue living where he had lived with his lover. Now, in Chiang Mai, he was running his own business. New people. New places. A new beginning. We exchanged phone numbers with the idea of maybe meeting up again. He said, "Let's remain friends always" as he turned to the temple and we towards the hillside steps to make our decent back into the flow of humanity – where living and dying are both a part of life.

Suddenly, Jose unashamedly expressed his affection there on the descending steps. We were easily a spectacle to any tourist passing by. Like something out of those romance movies where an American couple in a European city spontaneously embrace – not a passionate embrace – but a happy-moment embrace, with laughter and joy and hugs. Jose was kind-of like that, though more subdued, yet obvious enough. I remember the days (long ago) when any kind of public affection like this would have humiliated him and he would have sternly corrected me for having attempted such public expressions.

He's passed all that, and naturally so, for it is just that, natural for us to feel and express affection.

So, yes, there on the hillside steps that lead to one of the most sacred temples of north Thailand, with the sad story newly told to us of two gay lovers separated by an untimely death, Jose, with his head tilted to my shoulder and his arm drawing me into himself, said, "Don't ever leave me."

Of course, Jose gives me no reason to go. May God have every reason for me to stay.

Latin America meets Nepal: Mexican humanitarian womam helps LGBT people in Nepal

by Jose Ortiz
Chiang Mai, Thailand. July 12, 2009

A “chance” meeting
I was having breakfast with Steve in the dining room of our resort outside of Kathmandu when all of a sudden I noticed that the couple next to us was speaking Spanish. Well, just hearing the language of heaven (as we Spanish speakers call it) simply warmed my heart. Wow, it was so wonderful to hear a familiar language in a far away land. Of course, I asked where they were from and discovered that they were from Mexico. The couple had been living in Nepal for over 10 years. They came to Nepal after living in other parts of the world due the husband’s job.

When the woman, Lupita, heard that we had networked with the Blue Diamond Society, she lit up. Lupita had worked with drug addicted people, many of whom, after they had recovered, joined the BDS. She was touching LGBT lives for the better, and only later realizing what their sexual orientation was. What are the chances that the Spanish speaking person I happened to meet also happened to have such an interesting personal connection to the organization that was sponsoroing one of our talks? In addition, Lupita was thrilled to hear we were reaching out to the pastors to address the misconceptions and misinterpretations regarding homosexuality and the Scriptures. She has gay friends herself back in Mexico and absolutely adores them, she told me.

She was not just any expatriate
I mentioned to her that we were going to give a talk to BDS members that Wednesday, July 8. She gleefully said she must know where it was being held and that she would definitely attend. By the way, she is also an Ortiz by marriage. But the “coincidences” don’t stop there. When I got to the speaking venue and told one of the BDS staff that Lupita was coming, he asked with a smile, “you mean Lupita Hernandez?” As I searched my memory for her maiden last name, the BDS fellow described her to a tee. She had been the recipient of an award (from the LGBT community, I think) for her humanitarian work as a foreigner in Nepal. So, God once again has put us in contact with a key person in our travels just because we (Steve and I) always try to be friendly and interactive with people spontaneously.

It was great to see her smiling face come through the door and greet me with the warmth and kisses typical of Latino friendship greetings. A bit of “mi gente” (my people) right here in far away Nepal. Later that week, as I spoke to her from my mobile phone as our flight was about to depart from Nepal, Lupita said that what we shared at the Wednesday talk - warning the LGBT community of the fallacy of Christian "ex-gay" conversion ministries - was so important and that she wished to stay in touch as she would assist the LGBT community in all that she could. As coordinator for Africa, Asia and Latino/as in USA, I am so pleased to see this international/cross cultural networking and collaboration. It is one of my favorite aspects of working with Other Sheep.

Seeds Sown at Pastors' Seminar

by Jose E. Ortiz. Gokarna Forest Resort, Kathemandu, Nepal. July 7, 2009.
During the Other Sheep seminar for pastors held in a part of Kathmandu called Lalitpur (which means the Beautiful City) we were honored by the presence of some Nepali gay, lesbian, transgender activists and a pro-LGBTI straight ally named Indira. Three LGBT activists and a straight ally came specifically to speak to the 26 pastors in attendance as Christian believers that wanted the pastors to hear their story. One of the activists that spoke was the leader of the lesbian organization called Mitini. Her delivery touched me deeply. This young woman shared how she had converted from Hinduism to Christianity out of a sincere attraction to the faith. However, she felt she could not continue attending church because of the way she was treated in response to her obviously different mannerisms and appearance. She did fit the outward expressions of what the members expected of a Nepali woman. This serious, rough-looking woman, as she finished telling her story of conversion, rejection and subsequent falling away from faith, walked to her seat in tears. Many were not unaffected; the pastor seated to her right immediately began to speak to her.

I was later informed by Indira who translated the stories, that a few pastors were not unaffected; the pastor seated to the Mitoni woman's right immediately began to speak to her. I was later informed by Indira, that a few pastors asked the lesbian to their church, that she would be respected there. I don’t know what these pastors intend to do if she takes their offer. Will they show love to her with the goal of changing her? Who knows, but the good thing here is that now these pastors’ hearts have been moved when encountering, maybe for the first time, an openly homosexual individual. Indira, who is also an open-minded Nepali Christian and straight ally, told us that she believes that our meeting was the first time a group of Nepali pastors met with gay and lesbian people. In addition to the woman from Mitini, they heard from a transgender woman, and a gay man and from Blue Diamond Socity – all Christians. Indira said to me later, with great conviction, that this kind of exposure and education for pastors must continue. She went on to tell me that some pastors from a particular church had requested that the Blue Diamond Society (the LGBTI activist group) come to their church to further inform them on the matter of homosexuality. Seeds have been scattered by this event and I believe some of it will fall on good ground and produce fruit – fruit of understanding, compassion and hunger and thirst for justice. These initial reports give me such hope.

Interaction with Nepali Pastor on Sodomite Passages

by Jose E. Ortiz. Gokarna Forest Resort, Kathemandu, Nepal. July 7, 2009.
At the pastor’s seminar held on Sunday, July 5, a pastor began to talk with me during the meal time. He was theologically trained and had studied Greek and Hebrew. We had had a nice interaction at the beginning of the seminar when he gave me the name of his church wile signing in. His church’s name had the word Elohim in it. Upon hearing Elohim I recited Gen 1:1 in Hebrew which has the name of God -Elohim - in it. He laughed and said “I can only remember just the first three words of that Hebrew text," amazed that I knew the whole verse. I explained that I had just completed a 10 month course in Hebrew. The pastor then said let’s see if you remember it 5 to 10 years from now and we both laughed.

During the meal time, after Steve had discussed the erroneous insertion of the word Sodomite in the translation of five Old Testament passages, amongst other points, the pastor shared some interesting observations with me. He noted that a lot of the pastors in Nepal are not theologically trained; by that, he meant seminary training complete with biblical languages. He also noted that he believed that one could count on two hands the number of pastors that were functionally knowledgeable of Hebrew and Greek. Finally, he said “it probably would have been better to leave the bible in the hands of those who are trained to read and understand it in the original languages!” We both chuckled and I agreed by saying the translation of scripture into the language of the people was a good thing and a dangerous thing because an errant translation, leading to an incorrect interpretation, can lead to harmful application. I didn’t say it quite so poetically at the time but since I am on that kick, here is another little ditty I thought of: Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when mistranslations we believe!

Our unseen host in Nepal and our first 24 hours here: "You are my neighbor; I am my brother's keeper."

by Rev. Stphen R. Parelli. KATHMANDU, NEPAL. Back in January, a friend insisted I get on Facebook. She insisted the networking there would be great, not to mention catching up with friends. And so it has been.

Now here's a Facebook story: Shaun Kirven of Kathmandu, Nepal -- someone I've met only through Facebook -- when he learned about Other Sheep and our plans to be in Nepal, he wrote and said he would like to provide us a room in his home. I'm writing this blog from his home! and he isn't even here. He's on some human rights mission in another country. In fact, Jose and I will leave Nepal before he returns home. There are two other people living here. One is also involved in human rights work and she, like Shaun, is English. The other person who lives here is Nepalese and met us at the airport! Shaun had written us on Facebook: "When you arrive at the airport look for a sign with your name on it. That's your ride to the house." Can you believe it! Wow. (Of course, we did wonder if this was a set up, i.e., 'Follow the sign; get in the car . . . " -- but we didn't entertain that idea for very long.)

Our first day, our Nepalese host (standing in for Shaun) helped us get situated. He took Jose about town getting cash, slim card for our phone and other basic needs for operating, while I hooked my lap top up to their wireless and got busy with Other Sheep updates and contacts.

We have our own bedroom and share the rest of the apartment with the other two live-ins. Two bathrooms. This is a third floor apartment with a large patio and chairs and with a roof top terrace that has a commanding view of the foot hills (the actual mountains are covered this time of the year – rainy season). A cleaning lady takes care of the kitchen, washing clothes and keeping things neat. At times an annoying mosquito finds its way into the house.

Our stay here is from Sunday night through Thursday night! Can you believe it? You might want to look Shaun Kirven up on Facebook and thank him (and then become a human rights activist and get some first class service from Kirven when you come to Nepal to get involved).

Jose and I finished our first day by contacting (with our up-and-running cell phone) a couple Christian pastors that had expressed interest in meeting with us. So far we have one appointment on Wednesday. The pastor has a school for training pastors. He is entertaining the idea of having us speak to his 35 students next Monday. I emphasised meeting him first. I want to be sure he knows what we are all about. So begins our work in Nepal. We look for continued open doors like this one and when we find one we are amazed at both providence and the human kindness we find in others who help us along the way. Thanks in part to Facebook -- a tool that connects us with other like-minded individuals -- an Internet experience that makes us realize how we all are connected, not digitally, but with that human spirit that says -- you are my neighbor; I am my brother's keeper.