Seth Anderson wishes he had worn a different shirt on Friday, Dec. 20.
When he woke up, he selected a simple gray shirt with a caricature on the front and a black jacket. It was not his ideal wedding attire.
For Anderson, the day was just like any Friday. He read through some emails, went shopping for Christmas gifts, and rode the train to the tea shop where he works. Somewhere in that sequence, Anderson had not budgeted time to marry his fiancé Michael Ferguson. But it happened nonetheless.
At 1:43 p.m., Anderson received a call from his friend, an attorney, who told him to go to the Salt Lake County Clerk’s office. The call was in response to the overturn of Amendment 3 by Judge Robert Shelby of the United States District Court — same-sex marriages were now legal in Utah.
They bounded into their car. Anderson says that while stopped at a red traffic light Ferguson jumped out of the car and ran to the clerk’s office to get in line. They did not want to lose their chance at matrimony and felt they would not make it in time. The last thing they wanted was for the state to stop their vows mid-sentence.
“This is something that is a fight for the dignity of all human beings, not just gay and straight, but of all humans,” Ferguson says.
Now the only thing that stood between Ferguson and his nuptials was a miscommunication. The secretary who took their application for marriage had not been told of the announcement, but she was quickly informed.
What followed was a series of minor complications and waiting before the couple exchanged rings and kisses. Then they were officially married.
The governor’s office reports that around 1,300 same-sex couples obtained marriage licenses after Amendment 3 was struck down. Anderson and Ferguson were the first couple to do so. It cost $40 to make their union official — a price well worth it to the two of them.
“We’re so happy to be married to each other,” Ferguson says. “We’re a blissfully ecstatic newlywed couple and love each other until the day we die and hopefully beyond.”
The joy of that moment contrasts with the impending rulings for Ferguson and Anderson.
The Utah Attorney General’s office submitted requests to both the federal court and the 10th Circuit Court of Appeals for a stay on the Dec. 20 ruling that legalized same-sex marriages. The stay was granted by the Supreme Court on Jan. 6. At the time Gov. Gary Herbert released a statement that called the situation “chaotic” and hoped for an appeal to restore “traditional marriage” in the state.
The stay put marriages performed between Dec. 20 and Jan. 6 into what has been referred to as a state of limbo. On Jan. 8, another press release from the governor’s office detailed that the stay entailed a hold on all activities related to recognizing the same-sex marriages. Couples could not change their names on official state documentation because the state laws were reverted back to the delineations of Amendment 3.
On Friday, Jan. 10, that decision was once again tested. Eric Holder, U.S. Attorney General, announced the federal government would recognize the marriages performed in Utah before the stay. Couples can now apply together for federal benefits.
Gov. Herbert said Holder’s ruling was “no surprise.” Regardless, Utah’s laws will remain on hold until a final decision is reached by the 10th Circuit Court.
To Anderson and Ferguson, Holder’s statement was a relief. To them it signifies a positive change with hope for the future. The state’s failure to recognize the marriages is conversely a disappointment to the couple.
“I think it underscores the reality that LGBT couples are in fact treated as second-class citizens. This wouldn’t happen to anyone else that went and got married,” Anderson says. “It would just be recognized. And that ours is not shows how poorly LGBT, gay, and lesbian couples are treated in this state.”
The two participate in activism for marriage equality and attended the rally at the Capitol on Jan. 10.
Anderson, a U graduate student in history, says activists in the ‘70s and ‘80s who risked their lives for LGBT issues inspire him. Ferguson, who will finish his Ph.D. in bioengineering at the U in spring, advocates against Utah as a theocracy. He believes in equal rights for all.
“[The] term ‘gay marriage’ gets used a lot, and ‘gay rights,’ but really it’s a human rights issue because this includes all of our trans brothers and sisters,” Ferguson says. “Activism means just fighting for our right to be normal.”
“Normal” has been a relative concept in both Ferguson’s and Anderson’s lives. Ferguson grew up around Washington, D.C. and served a two-year mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Arizona. Upon returning home, he went to BYU for his undergraduate and was an ordinance worker in the Provo Temple. After requests from his bishop, Ferguson spent nearly 10 years in therapy aimed to stop him from being gay.
The therapy had ill effects on Ferguson. He became depressed with contemplations of suicide.
He remembers saying, “This is not what God wants for me. This is not right. This is not true. And I need to figure out something better.”
Anderson was born in Provo but moved to California before settling in Arizona. He served an LDS mission in Russia but says the Mormon family he grew up with was supportive. He says that is more true to original Mormon ideology and feels his story should not be the exception.
Ferguson and Anderson met in Dec. 2011 over Facebook. At the time, Ferguson was living in Salt Lake and Anderson in Arizona. The two continued to communicate through phone calls and text messages. In March 2012 Ferguson traveled to Phoenix to meet Anderson in-person for the first time. Four months later, Anderson moved to Salt Lake to be with him because after meeting Ferguson, his plans for the future changed.
“I believe in doing greater things for love,” Anderson says.
The two were engaged in July 2013 on a trip to Japan.
Ferguson and Anderson plan to celebrate their nuptials and share their story with a ceremony for family and friends on June 28.
“We know that there are many, many men and women in the closet who are scared and feeling alone, like we used to feel,” Ferguson says. “Our hope is they can feel a little less alone and a little less fearful knowing the stories of other people who made it out of the closet.”
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