I always wanted my dads to get married. I am not sure why I had this obsession. I loved that my family was different, but marriage, now that was a sticking point for me. Maybe it was because, even when I was a little girl, I knew my parents were denied a right, or really, hundreds of rights, that I thought they should have. As I got older, I realized all of the things marriage means beyond just bonding two people. It allows you to visit a hospital after hours as a family member. There are tax and employment benefits and many other perks that you get as a married couple, which you do not receive as a couple in a civil union. Anytime marriage became legal anywhere in the world, I begged Dad and Daddy to get married. When it was legal in Vermont, I thought we should go there, and then in Massachusetts, then anywhere in Canada, then New Zealand. I was desperate; I just wanted them to be married. Then, on a glorious day in 2008, same-sex marriage became legal in the state of California. I thought, Man, there is no way they can pass this up now! But they told me, “Chelsea, we’re a family. We don’t need a piece of paper to define us.”
“I know,” I said. “But if you’re going to ask for equal rights as part of the LGBTQ community, then you better exercise them.” Because what is the point of equality if you are not going to exercise your rights? Finally, after days of negotiation—everything is a negotiation in my family, unless it comes from Dad and then it’s straight-up law—they said yes, they would get married. After twenty-six years of being together, they thought if they were really going to get married, they were going to do it right! They only had six weeks to plan the wedding. Same-sex marriage was up for a test on the 2008 election ballot in the form of Proposition 8, which could potentially ban it, so they had to move quickly. They enlisted the help of only the most fabulous wedding planner, Charley Izabella King, who is a goddess if I ever met one. My little fifteen-year-old self would look at Charley and just dream that I could be like her when I grew up. She was a striking British glamazon, who had performed in the West End and on Broadway, and she put together the most stunning wedding anyone had ever seen at lightning speed.
I can remember it like it was yesterday. I could barely sleep the night before; I was so excited. I got to the venue with two friends of mine, even before my dads did. I wanted to eke out every second I possibly could of the day. (You would have thought it was my wedding . . .) My dads spent the day getting ready on a separate part of the estate in Malibu where the wedding was going to be held, and I made them wait until the very last second to see me in my new hot pink gown that I was going to give them away in. I had butterflies all day, and I wasn’t even getting married! Finally, at six o’clock, as the guests took their seats, we met behind the massive gray stone building that hid us from family and friends. Daddy welled up at the sight of me in my dress. There he was, once again, memorizing my face. Then Dad and Daddy locked eyes and spoke in a silent language they’d perfected over the years to say, “After all this time, here we go on our next adventure.”
At least, I really hope that’s what their eyes were saying. I stepped up between the two of them and the three of us linked arms, a position that has always been natural to us, the three musketeers. We watched as all four of my grandparents walked down the aisle, and then it was our turn. Watching my parents exchange vows from the sidelines, I could not help but feel overwhelmed with emotion.
My parents exemplify what love is, I thought. How could anyone say this kind of love or any kind of love is wrong? However, after months of watching protestors, and even some of my family members, condemn gay marriage, I knew the fight was not over. Nonetheless, just like we always have, we ignored what everyone else might think and went on being ourselves and loving love.
There was not a dry eye in the house for the entire ceremony. These two men who loved each other so deeply were finally able to legally do what so many others had been taking for granted for centuries.
This excerpt is from Chelsea Austin Montgomery-Duban Wächter’s new book, Inexplicably Me: A Story of Labels, Worthiness, and Refusing to Be Boxed In. Reprinted with permission from Health Communications, Inc. Inexplicably Me: A Story of Labels, Worthiness, and Refusing to Be Boxed In: Montgomery-Duban Wächter, Chelsea Austin: 9780757324277: Amazon.com: Books
About the author: Chelsea Austin Montgomery-Duban Wächter is a writer, speaker, certified life coach, Eli-MP ( Energy Leadership™ Index Master Practitioner) and self-worth advocate from Malibu, California raised by two of the most incredible parents, her dads. Chelsea has taken her story of being raised by two gay men, and used it as a platform to spread love, tolerance and has advocated for the LGBTQ+ community since she was in high school. In 2010, she was voted one of the Top Fifteen LGBT Activists in the Los Angeles area. Graduating Magna Cum Laude from Muhlenberg College in 2015 with a degree in theatre and dance, Chelsea has taken her theatrical background and created a career out of sharing her experiences as the daughter of two gay men and a young woman navigating the world on her blog, “The Girl With Five Names,” her podcast, “Worthiness Warriors,” and through speaking engagements, as she prepares to release her first book surrounding her life, and as she prepares to release her first book in the spring of 2022, Inexplicably Me. Chelsea resides in Los Angeles with her incredible husband, Dominic and sweet puppy, Moe. To learn more visit https://chelseaaustin.com/