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Trailblazers: Meet Utah's First Married Gay Couple

Screen Shot 2014-06-04 at 2.58.55 PMOn December 20, 2013, District Court Judge Robert J. Shelby struck down Utah's 2004 ban on marriage equality, writing that “the State’s current laws deny its gay and lesbian citizens their fundamental right to marry and, in so doing, demean the dignity of these same-sex couples for no rational reason.”

J. Seth Anderson and Michael Ferguson were the first same-sex couple married after the ban was lifted—and their photos of the momentous occasion went viral almost instantly.

In honor of our continuing victories in the fight for marriage equality—and coinciding with Logo's Trailblazers special on June 26—we asked Seth to recount that momentous day, and reflect on the legal limbo couples like he and Michael found themselves in when a stay was put on same-sex marriage in the state.

When people hear the words “Salt Lake” or “Utah” they often think of Mormons, polygamists and missionaries—not LGBT rights, and certainly not marriage equality. Yet from Judge Shelby's ruling in December through January 6, 2014—when the Supreme Court put a stay on same-sex marriages while the state files its appeals—more than 1,300 gay and lesbian couples married in the Beehive State.

Michael and I met on Facebook, married on Twitter, and became the first same-sex couple legally wed in Utah. Our relationship has been queer from the moment we met. But the events surrounding our wedding happened so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that there was no time to prepare. If I had known on the morning of December 20 that I was getting married, I would have at least combed my hair.

And probably put on a cuter shirt.

We got engaged in July 2013—Michael proposed while we were in Japan on a tea-farming expedition. Since then, we had been making wedding plans—none of which included marrying legally in Utah. Like most other couples like us in Utah, we planned to travel to California and then return home, knowing our marriage would not be recognized in our own state.

But in December the ground shifted beneath us. We feared the state would try to slam shut the window of opportunity and didn't want to lose what could be our one chance.

Michael and had blocked out the afternoon of December 20 to work at our shop, Queen's Tea, preparing for a large holiday market the following day. Our schedules rarely overlap but, as luck would have it, we both happened to be there that day.

Moments after Judge Shelby ruled, Michael and I received a call from our attorney friend, Paul: “Judge Shelby struck down Amendment 3 today,” he blurted out. “He didn't stay his ruling and, as far as we know, and the state hasn't requested one either. If you want to get married you can right now—but you may not have much time!”

Without words, Michael and I locked up the shop, hopped in the car and sped over to the County Clerk’s Office in Salt Lake City. The clerk hadn't heard the good news, so we had to explain right there at the counter that she could, in fact, issue a marriage license to us. She gasped, and said “Wait just one moment. I need to speak to someone.”

We waited nervously. Meanwhile, I tweeted each new development as it happened.

Moments later, Salt Lake County District Attorney Sim Gill walked into the room. I honestly thought he was there to put a stop to everything. But he just pulled some of the clerks aside and told us to “hang tight for about 20 minutes.”

After a brief wait, the clerks emerged from a small room. One of them approached us and said, “we’ve been told we may proceed.” Michael could barely contain his joy.

She asked who would marry us, but we had no idea—there hadn't been any time to plan. She offered to marry us herself but, as we started to sign papers, someone pulled her away. She returned and informed us that the D.A. had given instructions that she could only issue licenses but not perform ceremonies.

We could feel the cold, calculating fingers of the state tightening around our necks.

But luck was on our side: A reporter from Q Salt Lake had read my tweets and decided he needed to see for himself what was going on at the County Clerk’s Office. He just happened to also be an ordained minister. In a blur we signed the papers, expressed our love and commitment to each other, and kissed.

As we put our engagement rings back on, I realized that we could now call ourselves "husbands" for the first time. I was stunned and thrilled—and a little scared. At one point, there was a knock at the door, and Michael said, “Don’t firstmarriedanswer it.” We literally thought we were being shut down mid-wedding.

For 17 days, same-sex couples married legally throughout Utah. Not unexpectedly, the Attorney General's office submitted one emergency stay request after another. On January 6, the Supreme Court granted their request, putting equality on hold in Utah. We expected the stay, but not for Gov. Gary Herbert to declare that the state would not honor any same-sex marriages performed up to that date.

His words shook me.

Gov. Herbert and Attorney General Sean Reyes forced 1,300 couples into a "legal limbo" by invalidating our marriages. Many of those couples had children, some of whom had participated in their parents' most blessed moment. Utah claims to hangs its hat on family values yet, by withholding our rights, it is denying our families their humanity. The hypocrisy is staggering.

Being in this purgatory took an emotional toll: Legally married couples were not to change their names, access their spouses' health care, or take advantage of all the tax, inheritance and other benefits heterosexual married couples take for granted.

The state’s efforts also threaten the most basic of family ties—that of a parent and child. Utah has intervened to stop parents from adopting children they have raised, sometimes since birth. Attorney General Reyes keeps saying he needs “clarification” for how to treat these legal marriages. How much clarification is necessary for Utah officials to honor and sustain the law?

A court ruling on May 19 has brought us hope: U.S. District Court Judge Dale Kimball ruled that the state must recognize the marriages of same-sex couples, like Michael and I, who legally wed in those 17 days before the Supreme Court granted its stay. I’m most comforted for my friends with kids, who now have legal rights and protections that they should have had all along. A central means of oppressing marginalized groups is to wage war on their families—now, finally, the law will not allow Utah to do wage war on its LGBT citizens any more. (Well, those of us who snuck in under the wire, anyway.)

After I learned that a judge ordered our marriage "uncancelled," I told some friends that it felt strange to be remarried, since we never got divorced.

What a queer time to be married in Utah.


J. Seth Anderson is a graduate student at the University of Utah, working toward a Master's degree on the history of the American West with an emphasis on LGBT history. Along with his husband, Michael Ferguson, he co-founded The Queens’ Tea in 2012.  

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