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.

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.