E-Mail This Article to a Friend Fighting on several fronts In the aftermath of the SJC ruling, civil unions take on civil marriage, and DOMA initiatives confront the state Constitution BY KRISTEN LOMBARDI

THE FREEDOM TO MARRY Coalition of Massachusetts wasted no time shaking the gay money tree to fund the fight ahead after the Supreme Judicial Court’s November 18 ruling that barring same-sex marriages in the Commonwealth violates the state Constitution. Just five days after the historic ruling, the coalition assembled approximately 60 of the gay community’s well-heeled members at a beautifully restored, 18th-century Ipswich home that could have sprung from the pages of House and Garden. Scattered among the tasteful furnishings and wrought-iron fixtures were balloons, magnets, pens, bumper stickers, membership forms, and posters, all bearing the purple-and-white logo of the Freedom To Marry Coalition of Massachusetts (FTMMass). The crowd, a mass of chatter and laughter, swarmed around a table of aged cheese, pomegranates, and filet mignon. They drank beer and sipped wine. They toasted what many of the middle-aged partygoers described as "the unimaginable."

The FTMMass and MassEquality, which includes the Massachusetts Gay and Lesbian Political Caucus (MGLPC) and the American Civil Liberties Union of Massachusetts, are picking up where Gay and Lesbian Advocates and Defenders (GLAD) left off. GLAD, of course, won the battle for civil-marriage rights for same-sex couples in the state’s highest court. Now, it’s up to groups like the FTMMass, the MGLPC, and their allies in the grassroots campaign for equal marriage rights to do the same in the court of public opinion.

Says Mary Bonauto, the GLAD attorney who litigated the same-sex-marriage lawsuit before the SJC, "No one will go down easy on this one. The other side will do everything it can to confuse, obfuscate, and derail this decision" over the next six months.

As it stands — 164 days into the 180-day deadline that the SJC gave the legislature to adhere to its ruling — opponents of same-sex marriage are hunkering down in an attempt to thwart the landmark ruling in two primary ways: by enacting a Vermont-style civil-union statute in Massachusetts, and by passing a constitutional amendment defining marriage as "only the union of one man and one woman."

Dan Avila, of the Massachusetts Catholic Conference (MCC), the Roman Catholic Church’s public-policy arm in the state, says his organization is ramping up its two-year-long effort to amend the state Constitution to "affirm the traditional definition of marriage." And Avila promises results; indeed, last Sunday, parish priests across Massachusetts read a statement issued by the state’s four bishops denouncing the ruling as a "national tragedy" and imploring the faithful to "work to ensure that marriage as the fundamental institution of society will be safeguarded." The SJC decision, Avila says, "increases the magnitude of the importance in our being successful."

Likewise, Ron Crews, of the Massachusetts Family Institute (MFI), one of the more prominent same-sex-marriage-opposition groups in the state, vows he and his colleagues are "pressing ahead on this issue." Money and people are already pouring into the Bay State from such national right-wing organizations as Focus on the Family, which argues gay men and lesbians can "come out of the homosexual lifestyle"; the Family Research Council, which claims the gay-rights movement aims to "recognize pedophiles as the ‘prophets’ of a new sexual order"; and Concerned Women of America, which considers homosexuality "condemned by Scripture." Apparently the result of an orchestrated campaign, these groups and others have flooded the State House with phone calls and e-mails decrying the SJC decision.

Randall Terry, of the radical-leaning anti-abortion group Operation Rescue, has announced his imminent personal invasion of Massachusetts. And the Arizona-based Alliance Defense Fund, a Christian legal organization that’s funded dozens of Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) initiatives in other states, is working with the MFI on a strategy for legally challenging the SJC decision, according to Crews.

For gay-rights advocates, the next six months will put their organizing and lobbying skills to the test. At the Ipswich party, the advocates were kicking into overdrive. The festive air took on a more sober note when FTMMass director Josh Friedes gathered the crowd into a central room. Partygoers crammed onto sofas, spilled into hallways, and hung over the railing of an upstairs balcony. Tall, lanky, and brimming with energy, Friedes spoke in an impassioned tone. He recognized this "extraordinary" and "historical" time before sounding the call to arms. He told audience members that they are "going to have to fight hard" to preserve their recently bestowed marital rights. As he continued — playing up the hundreds of "working people" affiliated with the "radical right" — his voice rose. He paced the floor. He gestured to the crowd.

"I believe we can win this battle," he told the rapt audience. "We just have to go out and advocate. We have to go out and fight!"

When he finished, a strapping man leaned over the balcony and made an offer: "I’ll pledge $5000 today," he said. If the crowd could match it, he added, he and his partner would donate an additional $5000.

Soon another hand went up, and another. By the end of the evening, the FTMMass had raised as much as $16,000 from the gay and lesbian couples who had attended the house party — a success, by any measure. Yet compared to the opposition, which poured more than $1.7 million into the Bay State to push last year’s failed anti-gay-marriage constitutional amendment, it was a drop in the bucket.

LONG BEFORE the SJC decision was handed down, it had become apparent to gay-rights advocates that support for civil unions outweighed support for same-sex marriage on Beacon Hill. In September, Senate president Robert Travaglini took the unusual step of publicly announcing his support for Vermont-style legislation that would grant same-sex couples in Massachusetts some of the benefits flowing from marriage — such as the ability to include a spouse on a family health plan and to make decisions for a spouse who has been hospitalized. That move reminded Arline Isaacson, MGLPC’s political co-chair, and her colleagues of a lesson learned from the early-1990s battle over gay marriage in Hawaii: don’t wait for a court victory to organize. Educate legislators as to why civil marriage represents the only way to meet the needs of gay families. Says Isaacson, "This is not an issue for which you can just whip up support. There’s a learning curve here."

In recent lobbying sessions, she and MGLPC members have tried to chip away at the common misperception that civil union equals civil marriage. Civil union is a legal status, created by Vermont, to provide gay and lesbian couples with roughly 350 state-conferred benefits that are afforded to straight married couples. But civil unions fall short of offering everything that marriage does. For one thing, civil-union status doesn’t qualify couples for approximately 1049 federal benefits, including Social Security survivor benefits. Even if state legislators passed a civil-union measure that made every state marriage benefit available to same-sex couples, state law cannot influence the availability of federal benefits. And while existing federal DOMA legislation makes it illegal to give same-sex couples federal benefits, there’s no way to challenge this prohibition in court unless same-sex couples have the right to legally wed. By far, the most important difference between civil union and marriage is that civil union remains a separate-but-unequal status solely for gay and lesbian couples — which, in effect, says gay couples simply aren’t good enough to receive the same benefits, protections, and rights that straight married couples do.

At the State House, Arline Isaacson and others have tried to stress what she calls the "bread-and-butter benefits" associated with marriage, rather than intellectual arguments against, say, amending the state Constitution to forbid same-sex marriage. They’ve related real-life stories about injustices that same-sex couples have to endure because they cannot wed. In short, they’ve put gay folks front and center. "Even the most mean-spirited homophobe," Isaacson explains, "would have a hard time justifying denying us these benefits."

This strategy has met with some success. On November 13 — just five days before the SJC ruling — MGLPC lobbyist Bill Conley, a tall, vivacious man who sports an American-flag lapel pin, spent the morning crisscrossing the State House in search of legislators who had yet to hear his spiel. By noon, he landed a half-hour session with Representative Cory Atkins, a first-year Democrat from Concord known to have a keen interest in senior-citizen issues. Conley planned to introduce Atkins to the latest weapon in the MGLPC’s pro-same-sex-marriage arsenal: Amy Hunt, who heads the LGBT Aging Project, in Jamaica Plain. An attractive redhead with a thoughtful disposition, Hunt has a powerful message for legislators, like Atkins, who care about seniors: gay seniors are especially harmed by a same-sex-marriage ban. Settling into Atkins’s cramped basement office, Conley broached the topic of gay seniors, whom he describes as an oft-overlooked segment of the community.

"I hadn’t thought of them," Atkins admitted.

That was the cue for Hunt, who proceeded to tell the legislator that gay seniors often become impoverished and homeless because they cannot legally wed. As Hunt ticked off the deprivation that gay seniors face — no access to "married-only" rates in qualifying for Medicaid-funded home health care, no unrestricted right to visit a partner in a nursing home, no pension benefits for the survivor of an elderly gay couple — Atkins shook her head in disbelief. She fixed her eyes on Hunt. Every so often, she uttered a soft, tsk-tsk sound.

Conley seized on the sympathetic mood. "We’re delighted when people move to embrace civil marriage," he said, "but that’s a long process."

"I think there’s tremendous support for it," Atkins replied.

"Could we count on your vote?" Conley asked.

"Oh yes," Atkins said. "Why not? I believe in marriage."

Atkins was an easy sell, for sure. Yet many of her House colleagues — including traditional legislative allies of the MGLPC — have failed to take a public position on same-sex marriages. On November 13, Conley and Hunt made their way from Atkins’s subterranean den to the plush office of Representative Bill Galvin, a high-ranking Democrat from Canton. At the outset, the tall, physically imposing legislator exhibited resistance. He warned Conley and Hunt that he could spare just "two seconds" to discuss the issue. He ate a sandwich and picked at pasta salad as the two relayed the plight of gay seniors. He sat poker-faced and silent — until he suggested that "surely" gay couples would appreciate passage of a civil-union bill. He wondered aloud: "Don’t you think civil unions will lead to civil marriage?"

"It’s a progression that could be important," Conley conceded. Yet advocates, the lobbyist explained, are hard-pressed to justify such a measure to gay seniors, many of whose needs still would be left unmet. Galvin leaned back, as if wary of what he was hearing. He then offered up an olive branch: he has "every intention" of voting against a constitutional amendment prohibiting same-sex marriages, he said. And he doesn’t "have a problem" with civil unions. But civil marriage?

"I don’t know," he added, furrowing his brow.

Hunt interjected, "We know it’s a long journey for people to get to this point."

Galvin responded with a blank expression. He then checked his watch, looked at the pair, and said, "Okay. Time’s up."