Our story begins with two journeys converging onto one path.

Kim and I came to the United States of America for different reasons. I came here in 2007 as a refugee from my home country of Iran. Being a gay man in the Middle East was very difficult. Homosexuality is not tolerated by the government. I endured years of loneliness; I never opened up to my family about my sexuality out of the fear of rejection. When I came to this country, I was on my own. My partner, Kim, left the Philippines for America to finish his nursing degree in 2011, reuniting with his family living in the U.S. upon his arrival. For the first few months, his life revolved around school and family. He went to school, then came back home. That was his routine. Looking back at how different our backgrounds were, it seems miraculous that our lives ever crossed paths.

We met each other in March, 2012 through a dating website. I recall sending Kim that first email. I was so anxious to see if he would reply. Fortunately, he responded, and our conversation just took off. We slowly began to get to know each other. We exchanged numbers and found each other on Facebook the same night we met. That was a Monday or a Tuesday. Two days later, I knew that I had to meet Kim in person. We scheduled our first meeting for that Friday, after his last class of the day.

The first time we saw each other face to face was in a parking lot. As cheesy as it might sound, it was love at first sight. We spent the evening discussing our personal hopes and dreams. He told me that he’d left the Philippines just one year before graduation so that he could earn his Bachelor’s degree in nursing and start afresh here in America. We talked for hours, until we finally realized that it was nearly 9:00 p.m. Kim had to return to Baltimore. I gave him a ride back, and we spent the trip holding each other’s hands. I still remember the tingling sensation on my arm. Days after that first meeting, we were both already talking about blossoming into a serious relationship. Neither of us was looking for a short-term fling; we both wanted a long-term commitment. We even discussed the prospect of marriage. Maybe we were moving too fast, but we both felt very sure of what we were feeling. We’ve been inseparable ever since.

For the first two months, we managed to keep our relationship a secret. But we figured that our families had to know about us sooner or later. We decided to reveal our relationship to Kim’s mom. However, she didn’t take it very well. She thought that Kim would abandon his goal of nursing, despite the fact that Kim had  proven himself to be a stellar student both in his home country and at his college in Maryland. We were disappointed, but we continued to build our relationship. After all, we knew in our hearts that our love was real, and would only make us stronger, not distract us from long-term goals.

In November 2012, we found ourselves captivated by the elections, particularly the Question 6 Referendum in Maryland. Question 6 was about The Marriage Equality Act. At stake in the referendum was whether gay and lesbian couples would have the right to marry like everyone else. Kim and I eagerly anticipated  the results along with our fellow Marylanders. When the referendum succeeded, we were ecstatic to know that we resided in a state that supports marriage equality.

However, one last hurdle remains in our bid to be together, and that is the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA). Kim and I want to get married after marriage equality passed in Maryland, but we have decided to put it off until our marriage will be recognized on a federal level. That dream will only become a reality if DOMA is struck down. We understand what so many binational LGBT couples here in America are going through. The U.S. Constitution states that everyone is to be treated equally in the eyes of the law, so why is that equality not applicable if you are gay or lesbian? What makes us different from any other human being? We fall in love like everyone else, and we desire to make lifelong commitments with our partners. Kim and I, along with our fellow gay and lesbian binational couples, look forward to a positive ruling on DOMA. We have decided to share our story through The DOMA Project to ensure that 2013 will be the year when all of us are finally treated as equals. We will continue telling our story and sharing it with the world until the federal government must recognize our future marriage. Even now, every story shared makes a difference. Please join us.

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Fumiko and I met in New York City in the fall of 1986. I was 46 years old and working as a computer programmer. I had three children in their early twenties. Fumiko, a Japanese woman of 37, had been living in Mexico for some years, studying weaving. She was living in New York at the time with a friend and was planning to go from there to Guatemala, where she wanted to learn their indigenous weaving techniques.

Because she was looking for an opportunity to practice English and I was looking to learn Japanese, our friend Martita introduced us. Immediately, I was fascinated by Fumiko’s strong personality and deep voice, though it wasn’t clear at the beginning whether Fumiko was a lesbian. Little by little we got acquainted, with our Japanese-English dictionary never far from hand, and eventually we became lovers. For six weeks, we spent a lot of time together, but when January came, Fumiko had to leave. That month was a flurry of activity as I quit my job, subletted my apartment, and departed to join Fumiko in Antigua, Guatemala.

Eleanor and Fumiko 

What a strange and exotic place! And what a wonderful reunion! We rented a small house in Antigua and bought a few furnishings. Life there was simple albeit a little boring, with the exception of our new love affair. Both being on tourist visas, we had to exit the country every three months, so there were a couple of interesting trips over the border to Mexico. By the third exit, we decided to leave Guatemala and go to live in Mexico City, where Fumiko had lived before. Taking many bolsas of accumulated household goods, we found a nice apartment in the center of town, right behind the American Embassy. Fumiko introduced me to her many friends there, but I grew increasingly restless, caught between Spanish and Japanese and having no real business in Mexico, aside from being with Fumiko. Eventually, I decided to leave and “do something else”. It had been a year since I had left New York.

Together in Guatemala

“Something else” turned out to be a journey to Japan! Fumiko wrote to her various relatives and issued orders that this “Eleanor” was to be treated like a queen. They took me to local festivals, treated me to endless dinners, and even included me in a weekend trip to a hot-spring resort. After a few weeks, I found a job teaching English and got an apartment and a working visa. I was lonely, but Japan was fascinating and I discovered many things about the country on my own, being forced to do things myself that I might have relied on Fumiko to handle had she been there. I studied the Japanese language, kimono-wearing, abacus-calculating and even won a speech contest in Japanese! After about seven months, Fumiko left Mexico and returned to Japan to join me. We lived together for the remaining five months of my stay. In May of 1989, we returned to New York together.

Dining together in Japan

We lived together in New York for a total of five years. Fumiko studied English, and studied English, and studied English. After six months, her tourist visa expired, and she applied for an extension. She was turned down. A postcard arrived from INS (the precursor to USCIS) saying that she would be deported if she didn’t leave immediately. Then nothing. She was suddenly undocumented. Fumiko couldn’t work, but I was making good money as a computer programmer while studying linguistics at the CUNY Graduate Center part time. We started getting to know other immigrants, with and without valid documentation, and realized that even undocumented immigrants have a life, and in New York City not such a bad one. Someone told us that “undocumented aliens” could attend one of the universities in New York, and even get the resident tuition rate. That was very exciting to Fumiko, who had never been to college, so she spent the next year studying English even harder and taking the TOEFL several times. Finally, in September of 1992, she entered LaGuardia Community College.

For Fumiko, LaGuardia was a wonderful experience. She read books, wrote papers, visited museums and libraries, and discovered great satisfaction in learning, thinking, and discussing a whole range of subjects. Her interest was especially kindled by cultural anthropology: the customs, beliefs, art, and mythology of various societies. She found the American system of education very stimulating, with emphasis placed on the value of each person’s contribution, each culture’s differences. Also, around this time I started attending meetings of the Lesbian and Gay Immigration Rights Task Force (later known as Immigration Equality) an organization which had been formed in 1993 by Lavi Soloway, who is also co-founder of The DOMA Project. Through this involvement, I started to participate in advocacy as a member of a community of lesbian and gay binational couples.

Involved in the binational struggle from the start: Eleanor and Fumiko marching in the New York City LGBT Pride on June 26, 1994 with the Lesbian & Gay Immigration & Asylum Rights Task Force

In January of 1994 Fumiko graduated from LaGuardia with an Associate of Arts degree and entered Hunter College as a junior, but she was increasingly anxious about money. Without valid documented status, she couldn’t work in the United States, and I was now a full-time student living off a small inheritance, so there wasn’t much money to go around. At 46, Fumiko worried more and more about getting sick, having no insurance or savings to fall back on, and no pension for her old age. Perhaps also the discomfort of being totally dependent on me added to the stress of living in a foreign country, in a foreign language.

Fumiko returned to Japan in July 1994. She got a job in Tokyo that she was pleased with, and began to rebuild her life there. I visited Tokyo for two weeks over New Year (the big holiday in Japan). I was now a doctoral candidate in linguistics at CUNY and, at 54, I felt that if I didn’t finish soon, it was unlikely that I ever would. Fortunately, I managed to get a graduate student fellowship in Japan for the summer of 1995, so Fumiko and I were able to be together for most of three months. After returning to New York and my dissertation research; long distance phone calls continued once a week, with e-mails in between.

Saying goodbye at the airport as Fumiko left for Japan

In July of 1996, after a 10-month separation, I packed up my computer and 70 lbs. of Xeroxed references and went to Tokyo to work on my dissertation there. Thanks to the wonder of the internet, I was able to do my writing and research abroad! I spent six months in Japan in two 3-month stays (the length of a tourist visa), and returned to New York in February 1997 to complete my degree.

After I graduated with a Ph.D. in October, 1997, I went to Japan and got a job teaching English, and eventually a post-doctoral fellowship for two years. We both enjoyed those years in Japan (1995-2001, more or less), though we knew it wasn’t a permanent situation. During that time, Fumiko spent a couple of years completing the college work that she had started in New York, and eventually qualified for a student visa to the U.S. So, in 2001, we both returned to New York.

Enjoying life in Japan

For three years, we tried various arrangements. I did some adjunct teaching and eventually found an IT job, where I worked until my retirement in 2007. Fumiko studied web design, and did an apprenticeship in real estate. Eventually, however, the visa that Fumiko held had to be renewed and she could not show the proper documents. Faced with an inflexible immigration system that had no room for her, in 2004 she decided to return to Japan once more.

At this point, it seemed there was no way for us to be together. It is is notoriously difficult to get permanent residency in Japan, especially for a person over 60, nearing retirement. So Fumiko got a job in Japan (one that she enjoyed very much) and reconnected with her friends there, building a new life. I was forlorn. Fortunately, I happened to hear a talk by a Canadian immigration lawyer, and learned that it was possible for both of us to emigrate to Canada. Previously unthinkable, it suddenly seemed like a desirable solution for a couple out of options. We began preparing our applications in early 2005.

Together in New York

In the summer of 2007, just after my retirement, we found out that our applications were approved by the Canadian consulate. By that time, Fumiko had created a new career for herself in Japan, working with developmentally disabled young adults. Being in Japan also meant being available to assist her older sister, who has debilitating osteoporosis. It was difficult for her to leave but, for both of us, being together turned out to be more important than any other consideration, and we are grateful to Canada for making that possible. Neither Japan nor the United States offered us this hospitality.

Fumiko began to wind down her life in Japan, arriving in New York once again in the fall of 2008. Meanwhile, I was overseeing the care of my mother, Vicki, who also lived in New York and had Alzheimer’s. We ultimately decided that my mother would be moved to a nursing home in Boston, near my sister. It was a hard decision; I was very conflicted and felt as though I was abandoning her. After emptying my mother’s apartment, Fumiko and I prepared for our own move to Toronto, which happened early in January 2008.

We quickly settled into our life in Toronto, finding a permanent apartment and involving ourselves in the community. Fumiko was not able to find a job in line with her previous work of caring for the developmentally disabled, so she went into food preparation, working as an assistant sushi chef. In 2012, Fumiko started a three-year full-time art program run by the Toronto School Board. Fortunately, it is very inexpensive and quite thorough, including painting and drawing, print-making, photography, sculpture, and ceramics. She’s totally energized by the work and the community, and she’s well on her way to becoming an artist! For the first time, she feels fortunate to be in Toronto.

Celebrating Thanksgiving at Eleanor’s daughter’s house in Yonkers

For me, I am retired, and I find a lot to amuse me–Toronto is not so different from New York, just smaller and gentler. We live in a small neighborhood in West Toronto where I am an officer of the local residents association and also organize a seniors social group. I lead a women’s reading group, maintain a website for an older women’s advocacy group, keep active in the gay community, and follow local politics and theatre. Toronto has a lot to offer us.

Having lived in Toronto now for five years, we are happy here as permanent residents, notwithstanding the separation from both of our families. On my regular visits to the U.S., I enjoy being a hands-on grandmother. My grandson really is terminally cute and cuddly. In the same month I first visited my grandson, my mother died at age 97, peacefully in her sleep. We held a memorial service for her in New York during my time there. I continue to travel to the U.S. to visit my dentist and find affordable vitamins. So, between a growing family, an old dentist, and cheap vitamins, I may have to keep coming back to the Big Apple from time to time.

Last August, we got married in Massachusetts. As my son notes, we took a very pragmatic attitude about celebrating our marriage. After all, we’ve been together for over 25 years! We simply wanted the added ease and security that a marriage certificate offers. Nonetheless, we were both thrilled to be celebrating our love for one another with family and friends.

Cutting the cake with family and friends in Boston after the wedding

Fumiko and I have endured many separations in the 26 years of our relationship. Our connection is very strong, despite differences of language and culture, and even of age. Our lives before meeting one another had taken quite different paths, and we may seem to be an unlikely couple. But we both feel that we are alike in many important ways, and that we really appreciate our differences as well as our similarities. We support and encourage one another through good times and bad. Sometimes there is frustration and anger, but usually there is love and laughter–especially now that we have the security of knowing that we will not have to separate again.

We’re well aware that there are many couples out there who have not yet found their safe haven. Our story is just one example of the unacceptable choices that binational couples like us have been forced to make since DOMA’s introduction in 1996. Couples like us, who have committed no crime but to fall in love with a foreigner, are asked to choose between the person we love and the country we call home.  For this reason,we have been involved in the gay and lesbian binational community’s struggle for fair and equal treatment in immigration law since the beginning. It is long past time to end this discrimination against our families. We will not stop telling our story until DOMA is finished and families like ours will no longer be torn apart. Please consider sharing our story and contributing to The DOMA Project. Our fight is not yet over.

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As these things go, the story gets more complicated. Two years into our relationship his visa expired and could not be renewed. If we had been able to marry then, we would have done so. But in those days marriage equality was still in its embryonic stages. We registered for a domestic partnership in the city in which we lived. Finally, in 2006 we were married in Massachusetts under state law, and in 2007 in front of all our family and friends, we had a religious wedding at our synagogue.

With these life milestone events behind us, we were as committed as ever about starting a family.

Immediately after the wedding we began to explore options for adoption; we had some concern that my husband’s immigration status could present a barrier or a complication, but we were determined not to be forced to wait to move our lives forward. We always felt that of the many different ways to adopt, we wanted to adopt slightly older children who were in the foster care system. We knew there were so many who needed homes and that these children tended to have a tougher time finding adoptive parents and in many instances were bounced from foster home to foster home never finding adoptive parents. To our surprise, even though we were now living in a state that did not recognize our marriage or domestic partnership, the agency we found was willing to work with gay couples even though only one of us would be able to legally adopt the children under that state’s laws. We count ourselves very fortunate that two wonderful children were placed with us very quickly and we are now two years into the bliss and hard work that is parenthood.

Even though the state considers them as only having one legal parent, as far as they are concerned they have two dads who love them. Two years later we adopted again, this time two more beautiful children. We could not be happier and more excited about our growing family. Love is in abundance in our home and we are devoted to giving our children the security and guidance to ensure that they achieve their potential in life.

Have moved away from the East coast years ago, we now live in a quiet, friendly suburban town in a somewhat red state. We were initially a little worried that we might not be accepted into the circle of other families with young kids where we live. To our pleasant surprise, we have found that except for being two dads, we have much in common with all the other families, and we feel very integrated into our small community. At a distance we may seem like a lot of the other families and in a lot of ways we are. But, unlike the parents of our children’s playmates, we live in fear that, at anytime, the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement might discover that my husband is here on an expired visa and initiate proceedings to remove him from the United States. The reality we live with every day is that my husband, who is staying at home now full-time to care for the kids while I work, could be deported. In the eyes of federal law he is a single, childless foreigner who is without lawful status. Sure, we would fight and hopefully stop a deportation on the basis of new rules that are meant to protect LGBT families, but those are discretionary guidelines, and we know that such a fight would put us and our children through torture.

So, if you look at our family a little more carefully you will notice a few differences. We are cautious, perhaps to a fault, because we are so afraid of my husband being discovered, even if just by accident. So we never go to any airport, believing airports even for domestic flights to be risky places. My husband has not left this country or seen his family back home for 15 years. My husband drives five miles below the speed limit, always mindful that our survival as a family depends on his avoiding being stopped by the police. And if anyone ever asks us about his immigration status (which so many people do in a good-natured way) you will hear our canned, evasive answer followed by an immediate shift in the topic of conversation. Sure some of these precautions may strike you as over-the-top. We don’t feel like we can let down our guard until there is full legal recognition for our family by the federal government. Our four beautiful children need their two loving dads, and should never have to experience a high-stakes fight to keep our family intact. They deserve a peaceful and stable childhood, not one interrupted and shaken by the discrimination caused by the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA). That is why, after 10 years, we decided to end our perpetual fear of the unknown and chart a different path, characterized by a more assertive approach. We have joined The DOMA Project by telling our story and filing for a green card. Enough is enough. We cannot sit back and wait for change to happen. We must make it happen.

In so many ways, we are like all other families, but because of DOMA our family is not recognized by federal law, and so we must live with the anxiety that our family could be torn apart at any time, and our children could lose their dad. Ironically, my sister who is straight, also married a foreigner. They are a wonderful couple. They have also long since decided not to have any children together. They met in the same month of the same year that my husband and I met. However, once they married, she was immediately able to arrange for his green card and, two years ago, he became a proud American citizen. I wish them all the best and love them, but sometimes can’t help feeling a little envious of what my sister was able to do for her husband that I cannot do for mine.

Help us keep up the momentum toward positive change as Congress weighs whether to include LGBT families in comprehensive immigration reform. Consider our family, and think about the importance of ending this nightmare immediately. No couple should ever be torn apart, and no parent should ever have to say goodbye to his or her children.

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Sometimes, it seems hard to believe that Emilio and I ever met. In a huge world with billions of people, we somehow found our way to each other and changed our lives forever. Meeting my partner Emilio has been the product of a series of incredibly improbable events. Like individual scenes playing out one by one, they have built up to the beginnings of a promising life together. Nonetheless, we know that the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) threatens our future as a same-sex bi-national couple.

For having grown up in a religiously devout family in rural New Mexico, my “coming out” was by and large a seamless transition. Thanks to an uncle of mine who was brave enough to come out decades earlier, my loving family made my experience as normal and blessed as any other. As I grew into adulthood, they were there for the highs and lows of dating and life in general.

More than 5,000 miles across the globe in Cordoba, Argentina, Emilio had his own experience and struggle to come into his identity. Although his experience was much more complicated than my own, the hardships he faced ultimately led us both to be in the same place at the same time. I have always envied Emilio’s incredible bravery and ability to take a blind leap of faith, never knowing what lies ahead. Emilio took the first of such leaps in 2003 when he decided to leave Argentina – his mom, brother, and all he had ever known – to move to Albuquerque, New Mexico with his dad, step-mom and baby sister. That single decision brought us within 100 miles of each other.

We know now that there were probably many opportunities to have met before we finally did. During high school, we were both involved in Student Council, which brought together high schools from across New Mexico, yet somehow, we never attended the same event. After high school, we both enrolled at the University of New Mexico where we surely crossed paths, perhaps on a daily basis on campus. Nevertheless, we never seemed to notice one other. It was not until a summer night in 2008, when we were both out at a popular nightclub with our respective friends, that one of us noticed the other at all.

Emilio remembers seeing me entering the building with a friend of mine and shouting at me to get my attention. However, I did not see him and walked away. Weeks later, he was scrolling the social network MySpace and my profile randomly came up. Emilio immediately recognized my face as “the guy who walked away”. In typical Emilio fashion, he decided to take a shot in the dark and send me a message just to tell me that he thought I was cute. I am so glad that he did because it changed my life.

After some time of back and forth communication, we exchanged numbers and made plans for our first date. I remember being incredibly nervous and not knowing what to expect. Sure we communicated great via text, but would we hit it off in person? He had seen me in person, but I had never seen him except for in photographs. I was excited yet completely terrified to meet him. My memory of the date is exceptionally vivid till this day. He talked and I listened. He talked some more, and some more… Basically Emilio just loves to talk; his charisma is one of the most attractive things about him for me. It helps that he also has the sexiest accent ever.

In a lot of ways, we really were not either of each other’s type on paper. He was free spirited, extroverted, tattooed, pierced and studying psychology. I was über-structured, introverted, clean cut and studying political science. Nevertheless, it worked against all odds.

Over the next several years our relationship took off. After some time, he met my entire family and I met his family in Albuquerque. I also traveled to Argentina with him for Christmas break in 2009 where I met the rest of his beautiful family and his hometown. Months after our trip to Argentina, we moved in together. Since then we have shared countless holidays, birthdays, vacations, and family events together. We grew as a couple and endured painful losses. Together we were able to accomplish anything we set our minds to. Nevertheless, one seemingly insurmountable obstacle stood in our way: DOMA and Emilio’s immigration status in this country.

Emilio’s dad and step-mom came to the United States with intentions to return to Argentina someday. When plans changed and the family decided to make the United States their permanent home (through an immigration petition from his step-mom’s employer) Emilio had already turned twenty-one years old, and so thus missed out on the swift path to a green card that would come from being the child of a legal permanent resident. Emilio was ultimately forced to wait at the back of a 5-year waiting list for a green card that would allow him permanent residency in the U.S. This situation makes building a stable life together very difficult, to say the least.

Our first scare in this nightmare came in 2011 when we both graduated from the University of New Mexico. What was supposed to be a sheer period of joy in our accomplishments was laced with fear and anxiety. Emilio was (and still is) here on a F-1 student visa. In order for him to be able to remain here with me, he must remain a student or return home to wait for an uncertain amount of years until he is able to return through his parent’s pending petition. Though he had been here since age fourteen, feels more American than Argentinean, and had been with me for three years; Emilio’s only option was to gain acceptance into a graduate program.

The normal anxieties of a graduate admissions process were exacerbated by the reality that our very relationship and even my future in my own country would be decided by a committee of professors and admissions officers we had never even met. Though we worked relentlessly to keep each other optimistic of a positive outcome, it was truly the most frightening experience of our young lives.

After all was said and done, Emilio was accepted to graduate school and we swiftly made the move to Oakland, California in August, 2011. Emilio has been attending the California Institute of Integral Studies in San Francisco ever since. However, this chapter in our life together will end in May 2014 when Emilio graduates with his Master’s degree. Once again, our backs will be up against the wall. We have two options and no room for error. Unfortunately, the green card waiting time has virtually gone unchanged in the past few years, and DOMA still stands as the law of the land. Now, Emilio must either enter a Ph.D. program or we will have to seek exile in Argentina and wait for DOMA to be struck down or repealed before we could return.

Together at the capitol

I aspire to be an immigration attorney, in part as a result of our experience together. However, I have been forced to put this dream on hold in light of the threat that Emilio may be forced to leave the country we call home. In addition, given work restrictions on international students, I have been forced to carry an overwhelming majority of the financial responsibility for the two of us. As a result, I have sometimes had to work multiple twelve-hour shifts per week in order to cover the cost of living in the Bay Area. Although Emilio has made incredible strides to put himself in a position to secure employment upon graduation, it is a real possibility he will have to decline every offer for lack of a permanent legal status and the employment authorization that would allow him to capitalize on all of his hard work. It has been hard on me, but I know it’s not easy for him either. Nonetheless, we continue to power through it every week because the alternative – to be separated by over 5,000 miles – is simply not an option.

If and when Section 3 of DOMA and California’s Proposition 8 were ruled unconstitutional, Emilio and I plan to get married in San Francisco with our closest friends and family in attendance. Shortly after that, we would file for the immigration benefits we deserve with the intention of securing a green card prior to Emilio’s graduation. At that time, it would most certainly lift the weight of the world off our shoulders. The looming uncertainty we have lived with for the past five years would be gone. Emilio could focus solely on securing employment post-graduation, instead of worrying about how he will stay with me and his family that are still in New Mexico. I would finally be able to move forward with the dream I have left on hold with the peace of mind that we will never be forced to pack up and leave if we do not choose to do so ourselves.

Today, we are sharing our story because we believe it is important for the world to know what’s at stake in the upcoming Supreme Court decision DOMA. Our story may not be over yet, but we are determined that it will have a happy ending. Please join us by sharing our story. Every person we reach brings all binational couples like us closer to our dream of a life together.

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Our experience is a little different from the other stories of same-sex bi-national couples affected by DOMA. For one, we’re both originally from Europe. When I was still a teenager I had the dream to one day live in the U.S. While my friends at school were all in love with some rock icon or movie star, I was in love with a country. They drew little hearts in their journals; I drew U.S. flags. Often I went to the travel bureau in my little German village and picked up U.S. brochures, cutting out images and decorating my room with them. I even had a big U.S. flag on my wall. I tried to convince my parents to vacation in the U.S., but it was too far away and expensive. Besides living in the U.S., I also dreamed about living near the ocean. I painted many pictures, all with the same motif—a sandy beach with a palm tree on the left and right and a setting sun in the middle. So it was a very big deal for me when, a few years after my high school graduation, I had saved enough money on my own to afford to finish my Bachelor’s degree in Hawaii. I simply couldn’t believe my luck—in one move, I had accomplished my two lifelong dreams.

For Iva, the story how she came to Hawaii is just as miraculous. She is from Bulgaria, a developing country in Eastern Europe. When Iva told her parents, relatives and friends that she dreamed about moving to Hawaii, they all made fun of her. They didn’t believe that such a move would ever be possible. Long story short, one day she went to an Internet café and by sheer coincidence she met a man in an Internet chat room who happened to live in Hawaii and who was a business owner. His wife worked at a university in Hawaii and they helped her apply to this university to get her Master’s in Computer Science. She even received a partial scholarship. A year after her move to Hawaii and after getting the necessary paperwork done, Iva was able to work part-time at his business. This is where, on Valentine’s Day 2005, we both met. I had just been hired as the new staff writer. We felt the connection between us right away. Neither of us was looking for a relationship, but we nonetheless felt a deep connection, as if our souls had known each other forever.

For a while we were living the dream life. After we both graduated, in addition to our regular day jobs, we started our own internet business in Hawaii’s tourism industry. Then, just when my work permit was about to expire and I would have had to return to Germany, I won in the annual U.S. green card lottery, against odds of about two percent. That was over six years ago, and since then our life has been a constant battle to stay together in Hawaii, the place we love, the place where we built our lives, the place where we built our business. In all these years we never visited our families back home because we knew that it would be next to impossible for Iva to come back to the U.S. on another visa.

The company where Iva worked had told her that they would sponsor her for a work visa, but then they went bankrupt. After that, she worked for another employer, who also promised her to sponsor her. But when the time came, the owner changed his mind because he said he didn’t want to open up his financial and business data to a government agency.

For nine years, Iva worked on renewable permits, and even enrolled at another school so that she could remain in Hawaii. Unfortunately, time ran out for us last fall. Our worst nightmare had come true. In order to stay together, we would have to leave our home, our lives, and our livelihood in Hawaii. We booked seats in the middle section of the plane because we couldn’t bear looking out of the window and seeing the island we called home disappear before our eyes. We still don’t know when and if we’ll be able to visit together anytime soon since Bulgaria is not in the visa waiver program.

The first few weeks were very difficult. Since we didn’t have local jobs or a German credit history, it took us two months after we arrived in Germany until we found a landlord who was willing to rent to us. We felt numb emotionally and cried ourselves to sleep every night. We knew that the only way for both of us to ever move back home in the future would be for me to become a U.S. citizen, in the hopes that, someday, I might be able to sponsor Iva for residency as my wife. We consulted with a U.S. immigration attorney who told us that I should come back as soon as possible to immeidately file the paperwork. So less than twenty-four hours after we had moved into our newly rented apartment, everything still in boxes, I flew back to Hawaii, alone. I returned to Germany in December, so that Iva and I could be together for Christmas, and in January I flew back again to finalize the naturalization process.

During the naturalization ceremony, they played Lee Greenwood “God Bless the USA.” When I heard the lyrics, “I’m proud to be an American, where at least I know I’m free,” I found myself wishing that I really was free—free to live in this country that I’ve always loved, with the person I love. I was probably the only new U.S. citizen who applied for a U.S. passport and the next thing I did was leave my home, in order to be with my wife.

Now, nine months since our departure from the U.S., we are still having trouble adjusting to our new reality. We haven’t been able to find jobs here. It’s especially hard for Iva since she doesn’t speak the language yet. Every day we hope for a miracle that will allow us to go back to Hawaii. We each did it once before, on our own, under very unlikely circumstances. Now, the circumstances are still daunting, but there is one important difference: we have our love, and we have each other. We are determined to return to Hawaii once again, only this time, it will be for good, and we’ll do it together. We do believe that the fight for equality, the fight to love and live with your spouse, is a fight we can win. Please share our story and consider sharing yours with the The DOMA Project and continue to participate in the movement for social justice so that we not only defeat DOMA but so that we are prepared to reunite all families after this cruel law becomes part of history. Participation and representation is, after all, what American democracy is all about. We are grateful to The DOMA Project for the tremendous effort it has made to help our voices be heard.

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It’s hard to believe that it’s been over three years since my husband and I met and fell in love.

I’m an American citizen and my husband, Phillip, is Canadian. We met while Phillip was visiting our mutual friend, Lisa, who was a classmate of mine in graduate school. I vividly remember the moment that I shook his hand and introduced myself. He was unlike anyone I had met before; honest, sincere, and caring, not to mention that infectious smile!

At the time, we were both in school; I was in Boston, and Phillip was in Montreal. I had the opportunity to visit Montreal with Lisa for her birthday week a few months after Phillip and I had met. During that week, we spent most days together getting to know each other, and finally, he asked me out for a proper date. We spent that day laying on Mont-Royal, enjoying the scenery and talking about our lives. He showed me Montreal and made me fall in love with him even more during dinner one evening overlooking the city under a huge orange moon. I remember feeling so lucky and happy; the future and the struggle we might face as a bi-national couple were irrelevant. We were falling in love. We discussed the distance and decided it would be best for us not to begin anything serious. That lasted for all of two weeks before I again found myself in Montreal.

We continued traveling back and forth between Montreal and Boston over the following year. We even traveled together to Europe, took a cruise to the Bahamas, and spent as much time together as we could. After I graduated we began making decisions about our next step. After much discussion, and because DOMA prevented me from sponsoring him for residency in the United States, we decided it would be best for me to move to Canada and begin the immigration process there.

I moved in the summer of 2011 and began the application process for a Permanent Residence visa with the Quebec government. During the process, I resided in Montreal and commuted back to Boston for my freelance work. This worked well for us for about a year. At the end of that year, my application was (and currently still is) pending. It was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain a professional presence in Boston while living in another country. But without a visa, I couldn’t work in Canada.

At this point we began to consider other options. We got married in November of 2012. In January, we traveled to New York and held a small ceremony with our close friends. We felt it was important to both of us to get married in the United States, not only to support a state that had taken the step of equality, but to make a statement in a country that is slowly coming around to accepting our love and commitment.

It was a snowy day, a familiar scene for us back in Montreal, but a beautiful ceremony that neither of us will ever forget.

On our train trip back to Montreal, we had plenty of time to discuss our future and our goals. By the end of the trip, we had decided that since I couldn’t work in Montreal and it didn’t seem as though that would change any time soon, I would move to New York to pursue my career. Phillip would accompany me for the summer, then return to Canada to finish his degree. The move to New York put into sharp focus the barriers and discrimination that DOMA places in front of us.

We were stopped and heavily questioned at the border. The officials suspected that Phillip was moving to New York, and had no intention of leaving. After an hour of feeling like we had done something wrong simply by wanting to spend our summer together as a married couple, Phillip was issued a three-week visa. For several hours after the ordeal we were both silent. We both felt unfairly called out, and the brief prospect of not being able to spend the summer together was unbearable.

Thankfully, with the help of an experienced attorney, we were eventually able to obtain an extension on Phillip’s visitor status that will last until the end of this summer. However, we’ve started to establish ourselves here in New York. We have friends and family here. Ultimately, we’ve built a temporary life together. It’s a life we want to continue building.

Unfortunately, that isn’t an option for us. Since DOMA still prevents me as an American citizen from sponsoring my husband, we will move forward with our plan for me to immigrate to Canada, where my application is still spending with the Quebec government. This is sad for both of us. We both love Canada very much, and under the law there, our marriage is fully recognized as equal. However, I also love my country, and the opportunities that exist here for both of us far exceed what we could hope to accomplish in Canada. We both hope that the Supreme Court will do the right thing and strike down the discriminatory law that prevents us from building a life together in the United States. With the incredible support of our family and friends, as well as countless people we have never met, I know this is possible. The U.S. isn’t perfect, but Americans have always fought for progress against sometimes overwhelming odds. In the end, compassion, understanding, and love will always win out against bigotry and hatred. That, along with everyone’s courageous sharing of stories of struggle and separation gives us hope that the future is brighter, and that things really will get better.  We are grateful for the opportunity to contribute to this movement for social justice and equality with The DOMA Project.

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We met in the summer of 2008 in beautiful and exotic Phnom Penh, Cambodia. I had been there since 2004 working in developing nations as a doctor for advocacy, child protection, LGBT and human rights, trauma, HIV/AIDS. I also worked in the development of mental health systems in Southeast Asia, India, and Africa. Wes was one of the top students for International Business as well as a part of the social elite in Cambodia. We met through Wes’ dean, who happened to be my best friend. She would bring Wes with her to events and meetings and even social outings as part of his role as University Ambassador. The attraction was clear; the spark ignited. After hours of phone calls going late into the night plus courting, teasing, and flirting, our feelings turned into a relationship. Years later, across oceans and hardship, we continue.

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Ann and Marcia

Marcia: I love the story of how we met! Although I don’t believe in fate, it’s difficult to deny the serendipity of our first meeting. I’d visited the Bay Area in the summer of 2009, seeing old friends who had since moved there. I quickly realized San Francisco was a place I needed to visit for longer than a week. With its vibrant queer and food scenes, San Francisco seemed like an ideal place to spend a summer vacation. By the time I arrived in the summer of 2010, my friends had left or were about to leave the Bay Area, so I was left alone to make new friends. After learning that many people in the Bay Area use OkCupid to meet new people, I started my own profile and began browsing. I saw Ann’s profile and immediately felt through her description that we’d make great friends.

Meanwhile, because I was in culinary school I was lucky enough to snag a meeting with Chef Laurence Jossel of a prominent and trendy, yet source- and freshness-conscious restaurant, NOPA. He took me on a tour of his restaurant and their kitchen, I met the staff, and then we made our way to have lunch at his Mexican food restaurant, Nopalito, just a block away. I immediately locked eyes with Ann, who was our server. This chance meeting would never happen in a city like Mexico City, my hometown. I was so excited to see Ann that I had to ask her where the bathroom was in order to contain myself!

Ann: The summer of 2009 found me at a crossroads of sorts in my life. I had lived in San Francisco for eight years, and although I love the city, I was feeling a bit restless, like I needed a new beginning. After the breakup of a serious relationship a year earlier, I was encouraged to join a dating website and “put myself out there” a little bit. Overall, I was disappointed with the experience—I was still a little too shy even behind the veil of the computer screen to approach anyone that seemed interesting. Marcia’s message was the first e-mail I got through OkCupid that actually caught my attention. I received a message from her, jotted off a quick response, and then rushed off to work a lunch shift waiting tables at Nopalito. Literally, one of the first things that I did when I got to work was tell Marcia where the bathroom was. She gave me this huge grin, and I didn’t realize until she came back to her table and sat down with Laurence that I had just been looking at photos of this beautiful woman not thirty minutes before. I managed to contain myself and not spill anything on her, or my boss—but it was like a scene out of a movie. I felt like I was flying for that entire shift.

When I got home that evening, and finally checked my e-mail, Marcia had written to me again to say that she wasn’t sure that I realized it, but we had met in person that day. I realized it, all right. We arranged to have our first real date a few days later. That first date lasted seven hours.

Marcia: Seven or eight? We were inseparable that whole summer, and we’ve been inseparable ever since. In the beginning, the idea that this might just be a summer romance allowed us to be completely ourselves with each other, with no fear of judgment. But the more we were free to be ourselves, the more we fell in love, and we knew that our goodbye at the end of that summer would merely be a “see you later.” A tough and uncertain “see you later.” Since that summer, we have spent time and money visiting each other back and forth between Mexico City and San Francisco, staying for less time than our visas allow, just to be safe. When we are apart, Skype and text messages help keep us close across the distance. We talk about everything and anything that matters to us. In a way, the distance allows us to get to know each other on a much deeper level—few things happen without us acknowledging them. Communication has been key to the success of our relationship; nothing goes unsaid. It’s been through these conversations, and, of course, through in-person visits showered with “I miss yous” that we’ve realized that we can no longer afford emotionally or financially to live our lives in limbo.

DOMA is the law that stands in the way.

Ann: I am closer to Marcia than I’ve ever been with anyone who’s not in my family. I love her with all my heart. The year-and-a-half that we spent traveling back and forth between countries was stressful and difficult to manage, but I quickly realized that this relationship is the most important thing that I could invest my time and money in. This winter I decided to put my life in the States in limbo—sending a few precious things to my parents’ house in North Carolina, and getting rid of most of my worldly possessions. I knew that since so much of my happiness included Marcia, I couldn’t live apart from her. At the moment, we are living together in Mexico. We couldn’t be happier just to be able to wake up in the same place, together.

But the feeling of my life being on hold—of our life being on hold—remains.

I don’t have a job here, and am a little shy about my language skills. Marcia’s family is incredibly warm and welcoming, but it has been very hard for me to be so far from my family and friends. It gets easier every day, but I still feel like this is not the beginning of a new life, just a break from the old one. I’ve been reluctant to really settle down in Mexico, I’m scared of permanently being lost from all that I have known.

The summer after I met Marcia, I started my own business making belts and other accessories out of recycled fire hose. I’ve had an amazing response to the things I make, and I did several fairs and craft shows while I was still in the Bay Area. Although I’m still selling a few belts online, the business that had been poised to take off has been idling on the runway ever since I was forced to spend a sizeable chunk of my life savings just to be with the one I love.

If and when DOMA is repealed, it will lift an incredible weight off of my heart. Wherever we end up, we will have the freedom to choose our path without this limiting and degrading obstacle in our way.

Marcia: I lived in central New York on a student visa on and off for thirteen years, so I have a strong emotional connection to friends and family in the U.S. Living in Mexico has been difficult for Ann, and while I love my country, I know our lives would be easier emotionally and financially in the U.S. It is very different to consciously make the decision where to live, than it is to be forced to move just because the one you love is of the same sex. But under the current discriminatory law, DOMA, the U.S. Government has taken away our option to determine our own destiny and create the life that we both want.

Living an openly gay life in Mexico has shown me in no uncertain terms the importance of sharing our stories as LGBT people. I come out every day. I have seen my friends in Mexico become a part of the LGBT community as allies, but sometimes, my story provides others with the strength and power to come out too. As our numbers grow, I know that the more we are ourselves, and let other people see, the more strength and power we have as a community. It’s not just about raising awareness anymore, though that is important too; it is calling on our friends and allies to fight with us, for equal human and civil rights.

Ann: This is why it’s so vital for Marcia and I to share our story through The DOMA Project. We want to contribute to greater visibility of gay and lesbian binational families that are discriminated against by DOMA. Genuine equality involves far more than marriage. Marcia and I know that a marriage certificate doesn’t affect, nor define, our love. But it does honor our commitment to one another by making it easier to build a stable life together in the same country. We will continue fighting and sharing our story until we win the right to be together in the U.S.

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• DOMA Project at the Supreme Court: Conference Call this Sunday, March 31st

CLICK HERE to Sign Up

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Gary and Sam

My friend Carolyn was the first to point it out. After Sam’s first visit she asked me how it went. I replied, “It was great. So relaxed and fun. Was as if no one was here”. She replied with a big “uh-oh” and laughed slightly. I would not normally say that after hosting someone. I miss my space after a few days and Sam had visited for just over a week. My normal reply would have been, “was great, but nice to have my space to myself again.” When she said, “uh-oh.” It was very clear to me what she was saying and I immediately started to backtrack my thoughts to find a bad moment during his stay. There were none. I was in trouble. That was July 2009. It’s now June 2013.The “I” has become a “we”, and now, we are in really big trouble.

I met Sam via mutual friends online in 2008. Sharing similar interests, we eventually decided after a few weeks to say hello via Skype. From that first visual moment, there was an instant connection. Despite our distance and slight age difference, we connected immediately on a deep, personal level. Our chats wandered between politics, pop culture, technology we shared an interest in, and just everyday tales of life. After a few months, I would start to “have dinner” with Sam while he was working. Sam’s job at the time meant he would work late and that coincided just perfectly with my schedule and time-zone differences. Then the chats became almost daily. I had met and made an incredible friend. I refused to accept the attraction I was feeling towards him because he was not here. We spoke multiple times a day via chat messaging and emails, but mostly video chats. Then one day we did the unthinkable–we discussed his coming here to visit. By that time, he’d become my main confidant, supporter, companion and friend through good and bad times. I wondered what harm could come from meeting him in person? In the end, it was the biggest mistake but best mistake I ever made.

Together for Gary’s birthday, June 2011

I will never forget the moment I saw Sam at the airport. It was a very hot, mid-day, typical end of July in New York. Seeing him just across the road, I can still tell you exactly what he was wearing, his stance, which shoulder his bag hanging off of, the look on his face as he turned towards me–everything. He was looking a bit nervous and tired. When our gaze met, I knew I was in some seriously big trouble. Every bit of anxiety, all the nerves and worry, all the feelings that come up before meeting someone for the first time vanished in a split second. I didn’t realize how relaxed I was. I knew in a matter of seconds I was about to be able to hold him, finally say a proper hello and thank you, all in a new way and I didn’t seem phased or nervous at all. It was all as it was meant to be. I knew Sam better than any person I had met previously in my life even before having met him in person.

Carolyn had been right. Big “uh-oh” was now at the forefront.

Celebrating our anniversary

I think it took maybe three days after Sam had gone back home to the UK before we decided to plan his next visit. Within hours of him being home we started up our daily video chats again. His job at the time meant he had a more flexible schedule, so since I didn’t have a long holiday to head to England, he was going to come here again.

A month or so after his second visit, we planned a third visit on Christmas Day in 2009. By this point, we had established a very strong connection. Friends and family were asking about this man I was spending hours with each night. My family was exceptionally curious about this stranger from England who was coming to visit, yet again, and what it meant. At the time, he was still just a friend coming to visit. I suppose they all saw what Sam and I didn’t want to admit. On Christmas Day he arrived and we went by my aunt’s house for a quick hello and something to eat on the way back from the airport. I remember how completely natural it was, as if Sam had been sitting at my relatives’ dining tables for family events and holidays before – the relaxed pace of talking and eating, socializing. Not for a second did it occur or feel to me as if it was his first meeting of my extended family, but there Sam was with us all, for a holiday, no less. That evening we joked that we might as well admit we were dating. Thus, on Christmas day 2009, we officially became a couple and it was clear to everyone that he was a part of our family for the long-haul.

Our civil marriage ceremony, November 11, 2011

I went to see Sam in England and was able to meet his family that summer. With sweat dripping down my back, literally, we met Sam’s father and his wife and one of Sam’s sisters in London for dinner. Within 15 minutes, Sam’s father was asking Sam to move out of the way so he and I could talk more easily. Now I was in trouble on the other side of the ocean as well.

By this point in our relationship, we also began to acknowledge the big obstacle. We knew I was not able to sponsor him to live with me on a marriage-based visa. We started to investigate options on how we could reside together legally but nothing seemed to work out. I only had one option–ask him to marry me. He said yes, and so we got engaged! The obstacles didn’t go away but we were committed to tackle the obstacles ahead. We travelled back and forth. Sometimes Sam would stay for as long as his visa allowed, other visits were shorter. We knew it was what we needed to do and somehow we would work out the logistics of it all.

My dad was your typical Bronx man who moved to the NYC suburbs. He came from an Italian immigrant family with typical Roman Catholic beliefs. My dad was very frustrated at the situation Sam and I found ourselves in. Coming from an immigrant family, having friends and a wife who were also immigrants, he understood what immigration means to America. He was proud of who I am. It astounded him that I could not live with Sam solely because I was gay. In the spring of 2011, my dad started having some frequent health issues. After a fall brought on by a stroke one evening, he was hospitalized in the ICU. The days stretched out to weeks and then months. The emotional toll my dad’s declining health had on us all was clear. My father’s last moments with us happened while Sam was visiting. My dad awoke for a bit one evening and we all knew that it was our good-bye. He did as well. We all got our chance to say good-bye. The fact that Sam was there, amongst my sisters, mother and brother-in-law said it all. He had found his way into the hearts of my family and they recognized him as a member. My fiancé, accompanying me during what was the most difficult experience I had ever had, gave me the comfort I needed. My dad gave him a hug. I will never forget that sight. My father knew I would not be alone anymore and he wanted to be sure to thank Sam for it.

Our newly-placed wedding bands

The last weekend of October of the same year, we had an unexpected snowstorm. It closed down everything for weeks. I was home from school for a few days, and just threw out one afternoon, “maybe we should see if the Justice of the Peace is free next Friday? School is closed and we can get married”. Sounded like a good plan. While we knew the marriage certificate meant nothing to help us find a way to live together, we did know it gave us what we needed–a legal documented recognition of our commitment to each other for life.

Ultimately, we set the date for the following Friday at 11AM. We would have a simple ceremony at my friend’s mother’s house. Because of the size of my family and the short notice, we ultimately decided to tell all our family and friends we were having a “shotgun wedding” (minus the baby) the following day, inviting all to attend that could. We did it so quickly, we hadn’t realized the date: November 11, 2011; nor the time we picked of 11AM. People thought we planned it for that fact. It was purely because it worked for us so Sam’s family was able to watch the ceremony live via webcam. Later on we had the best reception we could have hoped for. While some very close family and friends couldn’t make it given the short notice, we had quite a full house of friends and family.

Our interview with Huffington Post, April 2013

Even now as a married couple, we still faced nightmares. Legal options we were pursuing were not panning out as we hoped. I didn’t tell Sam what was going on until after he arrived here. I knew going through customs was getting more difficult every time for him due to the questions and accusations. My anxiety grew as I waited for him outside every time he visited. I would think to myself, is he going to be allowed to visit again? It was a good thing I hadn’t told him  as when he went through customs, they accused him of not coming to visit, but rather of working here illegally all the time. Though Sam was allowed to enter the country, the customs and border patrol officer told him that if he continued his frequent and prolonged visits, they could ban his return for 10 years. We knew that we needed to get help to find a resolution as quickly as possible.

With help from an immigration attorney, we filed for a green card to demonstrate our opposition to DOMA and to hold the system accountable, but it was denied, as expected. Until that moment, Sam had never violated a visa stay or visa rule. Now, he is here in unlawful status, and that places additional burdens on us as a couple.

Taking our fight and our story to the Capitol, April 2013

But we did not lose our fight, we just began to take it on more intensely.We were fortunate enough to spend a few days in Washington, DC in April lobbying members of Congress for immigration reform. It was a very rewarding experience on many levels. Sam and I realized as we set off on the drive, not only was this the first time we were taking a road-trip together, but since we had been together, this was the first time he and I had ever been away together completely alone and not visiting his family or mine. It was our honeymoon. I don’t know of one couple that can say their honeymoon was necessary, meaningful, or more important and relevant following their marriage the way ours was.

The commitment Sam and I have shown each other is just as strong of any opposite sex married couples. The right to marry and be together is our right. We will settle for no less than being treated with dignity and equality. We hope that by sharing our story we encourage others to fight alongside us until all families are reunited. Join The DOMA Project and help defeat the law that has torn apart so many of our families.

• DOMA Ruled Unconstitutional By Second Circuit Court of Appeals, Setting Up Final Showdown at the Supreme Court
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• Marriage Equality on Trial: Listen to Oral Arguments in the Case Against DOMA at the Supreme Court
• Saturday June 8, Live Stream Roundtable Discussion with Anthony Sullivan, Pioneer of the Binational Couple Marriage Equality Movement

Since Camila majored in biology she was eligible for a yearlong work-permit. This permit could be extended after the year for up to 17 months because biology is a “STEM” designated field of study (e.g., science, technology, etc.), but certain requirements would have to be met. As our love grew, we made the decision to stay together, which meant we would have to find a way for Camila to stay in the area, near the university where I was studying. The search for a good job in such a restricted location became a struggle. As time was running out on Camila’s year long work-permit we found her a job that met all of the requirements in order to be eligible to extend the visa. At this point, we began to realize that staying together was not going to be as easy as we had originally thought. It was not a simple relationship where love and commitment were the only factors, but how it also depended on the hardships imposed by DOMA and the strict immigration laws.

One thing that has always kept us going is that both of our families are very loving and supportive of our relationship. Of course as our love continued to grow we knew that we had to stay together, no matter where that would take us. This past year I asked Camila to marry me, and she said yes. Even though this was one of the most joyful moments of our lives, it was also terrifying since we knew what we were up against with DOMA. We knew difficult decisions had to be made once Camila’s permit was up.
Camila’s work permit will be up in six months. As of now with the current laws the way they are, we would move out of the country in order to stay together. We most likely would move to El Salvador, Camila’s home country. The problem is that El Salvador, a third world country, is not LGBT friendly or accepting. We would have to hide our relationship, in order to avoid discrimination or even violence towards her family and us. El Salvador does not have favorable LGBT laws. Even though this would be a scary move on our part, we are willing to risk it as long as it means a lifetime together.

Making wedding plans is very difficult not knowing what our future holds for us. It would be incredible, like many would agree, to be able to get married to the one I love and have this marriage recognized by my home country on a federal level. The United States is said to be a “free country” and a “melting pot,” if this is the case, then how come two people who love each other can go through so much pain, heartbreak, and difficulties just to stay together in this so called land of the free.
This is why we are sharing our story. Like thousands of other couples, we need DOMA to be struck down by the Supreme Court or repealed by Congress so that we can live a safe and long life of happiness together, wherever we choose to do so without being torn apart. We wish for all people, no matter their gender, sexual orientation, status, sex, race, cultural background to be accepted for who they are and who they love.  We encourage others to share their story, to empower themselves and to focus attention on this issue. Love fuels this fight for social justice, but change comes about because we engage in action to inform others and build a supportive community.  This is a fight, but together we will win.  Thank you to The DOMA Project for giving us an opportunity to share our story. We hope to return to this space in the future to share stories of happiness and wedding pictures!

• 6 YEARS TOGETHER, 5,000 MILES APART: DOMA Keeps Two Women From The Life They Dream Of
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• Rick & Brian: Married Gay Couple Exiled by DOMA for Three Years in Taiwan, Fight to Return to the U.S.
• VICTORY! Immigration Judge Delays "DOMA Deportation" for Gay Couple for a Third Time, Giving USCIS Another Chance to Approve Their Green Car...

I’ve lived in the United States for almost fifteen years, with no real sense of permanence. That may seem like a long time to not be able to plan more than two or three years in advance, but it makes sense when you consider that I’ve been in this country on a series of non-immigrant visas, each visa having a specific purpose for me to be here. My first visa granted me four years for to complete my undergraduate degree, after which I requested another two years for my first graduate degree. That led to a job in my chosen field of book publishing, along with the H-1B visa permitting me to live and work here, which was renewed to the maximum six years. Eventually, having gained a foothold in one end of the book business, I decided to switch to the other end, returning to school to pursue an MFA in Creative Writing. I never needed to plan beyond a few years. I had no choice: my non-immigrant visa has always been tied to a specific short-term goal or purpose.

Of course, all that changed when I met my boyfriend, Joe, who eventually became my husband, Joe, and who, as an American, was more firmly attached to the idea of having permanent residence in this country. From the moment we said, “I do,” our lives entered a legal quagmire. Like so many other gay and lesbian couples we were legally married in our home state (Connecticut) and enjoyed the rights and benefits of marriage under the laws of our state, while having our marriage completely unrecognized by the federal government because the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) for all purposes under federal law, including Joe’s right to sponsor me, as his spouse, for permanent residence in the U.S.

DOMA hangs a cloud of uncertainty over our lives, making it almost impossible for us to plan things that would be a matter of course for opposite sex couples, such as whether we should renovate our bathroom this year, or if it makes sense to finally get that puppy we’ve wanted for so long. Mundane? Perhaps. But when you are denied the right to make the simplest decisions, that itself becomes a reminder of how powerless we are to solve the more important problems, like how we are going to stay together in this country.

I suspect that most people are well aware by now of DOMA and its discriminatory treatment of married gay couples. It’s all over the news. The President said publicly that the law, signed in 1996 by President Clinton, is unconstitutional. Congressmen (mostly Democrats) have been slowly coming around to the idea that the federal government has no interest in restricting recognition of existing legal marriages to heterosexual couples. And now, the nine men and women of the Supreme Court are getting ready to determine the fates of hundreds of thousands of LGBT couples and their families across the country, for now and for generations to come.

Wonderful. The national spotlight focused on this issue has far-reaching implications, impacting more than just the LGBT couples directly affected. It helps to sensitize our families and friends to our struggle. Personal stories like ours help to change people’s minds. Just ask Republican Senator Rob Portman. This is why the work being done by The DOMA Project is literally life-changing.

But the reality of DOMA and its insidious discrimination was a concern for me and Joe long before the media picked up on it. When you’re in a bi-national same-sex relationship, the mere proposal of getting married and making a legal lifelong commitment to each other requires a level of constitutional scholarship that our heterosexual counterparts never even have to consider. Joe and I have probably done enough collective research into immigration law, marriage equality around the world, and Constitutional law as it pertains to marriage, to make a decent showing on the LSATs. (Full disclosure, Joe secretly hopes to be a Supreme Court Justice, one day. Hey, he couldn’t be any worse than Clarence Thomas, am I right?) And yet we still don’t know enough to feel comfortable navigating this maze without professional legal help, which is why we have Lavi Soloway. (He said that we make a really cute couple, and we respect his legal opinion.)

I guess it’s a good thing we live in the Constitution State. We can rattle off names and dates whenever our straight friends ask us about where same-sex marriage is legal. (Yes, we often explain, Connecticut was the second marriage equality state, after Massachusetts—they just didn’t make a big deal out of it, like New York or Rhode Island.) But my favorite question is whenever we explain our situation to someone, and they ask me, “Well, why don’t you just become a citizen? Wouldn’t that be easier?”

It would be theoretically easier, of course, but it’s nowhere near being easy. First, there’s the whole business of getting permanent residence (see the whole DOMA problem, above). But there’s also the inherent headache of an immigration bureaucracy that creates hoops and hurdles for immigrants trying to work within the system. The Senate recently seemed poised to make a historic bi-partisan effort to take steps towards improving this system. But, tragically for thousands of bi-national LGBT couples, normally pro-LGBT Senate Democrats decided at the last minute to cave to Republican pressure to remove an amendment to the bill that would allow gay Americans, like Joe, to sponsor their foreign-born spouses, like me, for permanent residence.

This is what we’re up against. A political system in which one party prefers to pretend we don’t exist (not even in log cabins), and the other refuses to stand up for what they know is right. So much for hope and change.

What if real immigration reform could pass Congress without being bruised and battered by partisan politics? What if politicians and media personalities did not engage in fear-mongering at the expense of the LGBT community?

I don’t have the answers to those questions. I prefer to stick to the simpler ones. What if you meet someone, fall in love, and want to take the next step in making a legally recognized lifelong commitment to each other? For me and Joe, the decision to get married was the easiest part of this journey. We knew we loved each other. We knew we wanted to be together, and to be recognized as spouses, for the rest of our lives.

And then one day, we asked, “What are we waiting for?” It was a very simple ceremony, just the two of us and the Justice of the Peace on the dock over the lake behind our home. But that was all we needed. Parties and big celebrations are fun, but we both knew that nothing mattered more than our love. Also, contrary to stereotypes, neither of us really cared to do all that expensive planning. I think my mom put it best when we called her in Trinidad afterward to tell her the news: “As long as you two make each other happy, there is nothing that anybody else thinks that matters.”

Joe’s mom wholeheartedly agreed, although she noted that she only lives thirty minutes away, and would have loved to be there with us in person.

We do make each other happy, and have from the very beginning. We don’t have the most fairy-tale story of how we met (on the internet, like so many other couples in the modern age), but I have to say it’s been a fairy-tale ride ever since. Yes, there were a couple close calls with Immigration. Once when my old passport was about to expire, and it looked like the Trinidad and Tobago Consulate would not be able grant me a new one in time, we feared that I might have to leave the country for an indeterminate period. Another time, due to a mistake an immigration officer made on my I-94, I had to leave the country on very short notice, flying to Jamaica for the day to avoid a potential overstay with my visa. But we’ve seen enough stories on The DOMA Project to know that we’ve been very lucky in many ways. I still have legal status as an immigrant. The future may be uncertain, but for now at least, unlike too many other bi-national couples, Joe and I are able to be together.

But uncertainty is nothing new for me. It’s been my life as an immigrant for over a decade. And now Joe and I face uncertainty as we wait for nine members of the Supreme Court to make a ruling on DOMA. We’re hopeful for the best outcome, and mindful as to what is at stake for so many. But we’re also prepared for anything. Because, really, would be the worst outcome? That we might eventually be forced to leave the U.S. in order to be together? That would suck. This is Joe’s home, and I’ve spent my entire adult life here. But we know that whatever we do, wherever we go, we’ll be together. We made a commitment to love each other for life, and there’s nothing the Supreme Court can do or say to change that. And in an environment full of flux and uncertainty, that’s the only kind of permanence that really matters.

(Yes, that exchange in the video epilogue actually happened. And, yes, he really did look like Michael Phelps. No, I didn’t take any pictures.)

• 22 Years After They First Met, Gay Dads and Their Four Children Fight DOMA To Keep Their Family Together
• Time to Get Personal -- Announcing the Launch of Our Series of Short Films, "Love Stories: Binational Couples on the Front Lines Against DOMA&quo...
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Anderson and Serhat

Our First Date

Anderson: Two years ago, I was about to meet the love of my life. At the time, I had been living in Los Angeles for nearly 2 years. All the same, I still hadn’t found that special someone. That all changed when I met Serhat. We first met online. We had a great initial exchange and ultimately decided to meet before Serhat departed Los Angeles in two day’s time.

We arranged to meet on July 11, 2011 in Los Angeles. I met him in person that afternoon and the first thing I asked him after introducing ourselves was if he was from a noble family. I also remember thinking he looked like a boxer. I later learned that he practices martial arts and has the surname Bourbon, so I wasn’t far off! The way he carried himself showed a sense of security and confidence that was extremely attractive. Having dated others for nearly 15 years by that point, I’d learned a lot about the kind of person I wanted to date. Serhat matched that person perfectly. He was literally the man I’d dreamt about–incredibly intelligent, confident and spiritual. I knew it within moments of meeting him.

Serhat: I, too, knew that Anderson was special from the moment we met. When I first saw him, the only thing I was thinking was, “I would draw his face if they asked me to picture the man of my dreams”. I knew our first meeting wouldn’t be our last!

Anderson: After that, I had to see Serhat again. The very next day, I invited him for a lunch date at the 1930’s-themed poolside restaurant at Sunset Towers. For me, the positive energy I experienced on the first day only continued to grow. Serhat later told me that he fell in love with me that day. Even now, we consider the first day we met, July 11th, 2011 to be the beginning of our relationship. Though we did not explicitly commit to one another, we both knew we wouldn’t be seeing anyone else.

Serhat: On that day, I remember how Anderson’s looks, peaceful voice, culture, intelligence, and natural charisma pulled me into his presence. Meeting each other the day before was definitely the best “coincidence” of our lives.

Anderson: As wonderful as our first date was, Serhat had to leave the next day. Seeing him off at the airport was difficult, but fortunately we were able to stay in touch by online chat. It turns out that we would spend much of our time in the following one and a half years exchanging messages on our phones.

Living Apart

Serhat: As a Turkish national, my primary residence is Istanbul. However, my work as an integrated medicine practitioner allows me to travel the world while attending to my other family business projects. Soon after our first meeting, Anderson and I searched for ways we could start a life together in LA. Though my visa permits me to enter the U.S. an unlimited number of times, my work initially prohibited me from staying with Anderson for very long. I kept traveling around the world and he tried to join me as much as possible. When we weren’t able to be together, it felt like emotional torture.

Anderson: Serhat’s longest absence of over a month was especially difficult for us. It got to a point where we decided we would never be apart for more than three weeks at a time. Because DOMA prevents Serhat from establishing himself in LA, his income depends on his continued travels. Fortunately, we were both able to rearrange our work schedules so that he stays in LA for a month and a half and then leaves for a month. After a maximum of three weeks apart, I then leave LA to meet him on the road. As fabulous as all this travel sounds, it is disruptive to creating a life together in LA. It’s definitely not sustainable in the long term.

Serhat: As painful as our frequent goodbyes may be, the worst part is feeling waves of anxiety every time I enter the U.S. Due to my multiple entries to the U.S., it becomes harder and harder for me to explain to Customs and Border Patrol officers why I frequently return to the U.S. If I mention Anderson, it’s extremely likely I would be denied entry–which is our worst nightmare. So, we try to arrange our travels to avoid frequent entries, but sometimes that’s not possible.

Our Family

Serhat: I spent Christmas in 2011 with Anderson and his family in Atlanta, where his sister now lives. I got a sense of how he grew up and I loved the family dynamics. I think his family liked me too. I feel like they treat me as part of the family.

Anderson: Ever since the day we met, Serhat and I knew we wanted to be in each other’s lives. Though we share many interests including travel, fitness, and our spirituality, sharing our past and our respective families was an important milestone in our relationship. In July 2012, I met Serhat’s parents. Though I don’t speak any of the languages they speak, I was able to get a good sense of his family dynamic. His father is really warm. I loved spending time with them. I really felt welcomed into the family from day one.

Anderson and Serhat visiting the Sultanate of Oman

Anderson: It turns out that Serhat and I were with my family when we first talked about getting married. It was always on the backburner. It was only a matter of time before we started to make plans. The two of us exchanged rings in March of 2012.

As for our future wedding, we want a very close group of friends and family in a place where we all feel like we’re on vacation so everyone can leave behind their worries and celebrate. I know Serhat has plans about passing on a noble title to me. Though the idea of titles is so far from my realm of experience, I know that it’s really important to him, so I respect that.

Our American Dream

Serhat: Ever since my first visit to LA many years ago, I knew that I wanted to live there at some point in my life. Since I met Anderson, the two of us have dreamed of sharing our lives together. We have been wearing our engagement rings on our fingers for over a year now. We have even talked about how many children we will raise together! I see LA as an ideal place to raise a family together with Anderson. Unfortunately, because of the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA), Anderson is unable to sponsor me for residency on the basis of our committed relationship. Moreover, our forced travel schedule is simply too intense for expanding our family. DOMA forces us to put our dream on hold.

Anderson: Initially, neither of us knew about DOMA, though I knew that the federal government doesn’t recognize gay and lesbian relationships. Once Serhat and I started talking about getting married, moving, and establishing his business in the U.S., we realized that DOMA was the only thing standing in our way. Like a large majority of Americans, my dad feels that DOMA’s continued existence is silly. Accompanying us on our most recent trip to Southeast Asia, he shared with us just how excited he was that DOMA could be overturned soon. On the eve of a Supreme Court ruling, Serhat and I hope that our story will continue to spread awareness of just how DOMA threatens the hopes and dreams of thousands of binational couples like us.

Anderson and Serhat traveling in Southeast Asia with Anderson’s father

Serhat: As a foreigner, the idea of the “American Dream” is especially meaningful to me. We find that the needless suffering caused by DOMA is contradictory to American values. I have always viewed the U.S. as one of the greatest countries in the world–a place where hard-working, successful, and lawful people can make their dreams come true no matter what their origin. Anderson and I both believe that nothing should hold any person back from creating a loving family and becoming fathers/mothers to the children they would raise with unconditional love.

Anderson: In the end, we are one of the fortunate couples who are able to find a way to see one another on a regular basis. Many of my fellow Americans in gay or lesbian binational relationships are forced to endure months or even years of separation. Others yet are forced to close their businesses and take their talents abroad in order to be together with their loved one–even though the U.S. may be the only home they know. But even in our case, we are forced to jump through hoops and spend large sums of money to be together, a situation that is forced on us by the U.S. government.

Making Our Voices Heard

Anderson: After Democratic senators caved to the inhumane demands of Republicans to exclude binational couples like us from Comprehensive Immigration Reform, our future rests in the hands of the nine justices of the U.S. Supreme Court. Serhat and I join with thousands of binational couples and our supporters to call on the Supreme Court to eliminate this terrible law. Only when DOMA is gone and freedom is restored will Serhat and I will finally be able to start living our American Dream. We encourage you to join The DOMA Project today by sharing our story, sharing your own story, or contributing financially to this campaign. We firmly believe there has never been a better time to support The DOMA Project. The time to act is now.

• The DOMA Project Reacts to Policy Granting Deferred Action and Employment Authorization to Dream Act Immigrants
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Together on our first photo hunt–the day we met in real life!

Astrid (right) and I met on August 31, 2007, via the UK-based Shutterchance photoblog when she first commented on my day’s image. I’m American. She’s Dutch. And we’re both photographers.

At the time, I was traveling back and forth to the Netherlands every month because of my ex-partner’s work and had the chance to meet Astrid on November 30 of the same year, 3 months after meeting online. We decided to get together to photo hunt. Little did we know that we would almost immediately fall in love. The picture above shows that very first day we met in real life: you can already see the love.

On our honeymoon trip to England in April 2010, 2 months after our wedding

Many visits, e-mails, and Skype-chats later, we both knew we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together. So, on December 5, 2009, I left my 2 grown children and my 9-year-old grandson in the U.S. and reunited with Astrid in the Netherlands.

That day was especially meaningful for us as it coincided with Sinterklaasdag (Santa Claus Day). Sinterklaasdag is celebrated in the Netherlands on December 5 every year. Traditionally, it was the Dutch day for the giving and receiving of presents, especially big for the children. This left December 25 for the religious aspect of Christmas, which I quite like. Because it was Sinterklaasdag that I arrived to live with Astrid, it will always be our day of symbolically receiving the gift of each other. Ever since, I’ve often reminded myself, “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus!” (My given name is Virgina.)

Our Civil Marriage Ceremony: Cora the City Hall Officiator is between us.

Two months later after our first Sinterklaasdag, we were legally married at our town’s city hall, on February 5, 2010. I think Cora, our city hall officiator, was as happy as we were. Three years later and counting, we’ve never once second-guessed our decision. Astrid had been married 27 years and has a grown son. I had been married 21 years, with 2 grown children and a grandson who is now 13 years old.

I prefer Canon…

I am now 68-years-old in good health, living on social security under $1,000/month.  Astrid is 9 years younger and still needs to work for another year before she reaches retirement. Once she retires, the big question will be if/how we can live on a limited income, especially when my dollar is worth less than her euro. Every time I transfer money over, I lose.

…and Astrid prefers Nikon!

The question in the back of our minds is whether one day I will need assisted living; my mom died of Alzheimer’s so I’m at risk as well. My long-term care premium is paid and will allow me good assistance in the U.S., if needed. My dollar will go further there, as will Astrid’s euro, if money is ever an issue for us. It’s just important to us to know we have that option.

It’s not that we live in the future, fearing the worst (that I’ll get Alzheimer’s, for instance), but that we want to plan ahead and make the right choices. To help make those choices, we need to know whether we will have the option to move to to the U.S. as a married couple if that ever becomes a necessity.

Santa Run in 2010, Celebrating Sinterklaasdag Together!

Astrid lived in America for a year when she was 20 and already loves my country, just as I love hers. We’re fortunate to live in a country with full marriage equality. However, marriage equality in the Netherlands is not enough for us. Having spent the majority of my life as a contributing member of American society and law-abiding tax-payer, I may need to depend on my country one day for my own well being. I hope that, should the time come, my country would not deny me a chance to be safe and happy with my loved ones. It’s this reality that makes us aware that even couples with an established life in exile need for DOMA to fall. As a U.S. citizen, I am not content to leave my country off the list of my future options. No one should have to settle for that. Please share our story with your friends and family. Together with other couples participating in The DOMA Project, we will ensure that the Supreme Court knows that behind DOMA lie stories like ours: stories of people who simply love and want the best for one another.

• Nancy & Teri are Separated by DOMA, Unable to Plan Future. "We are just two souls that found each other and fell in love"
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• Mike & Erdi: Love Story That Began On Father-Son Trip Leads to Filing of Fiancé Visa Petition and a Move to Turkey
• ONLINE WORKSHOP: Green Card Basics for Same-Sex Couples After DOMA

I am the proud mother of two sons; Adam (age 41) and Mike (age 38). From the time they were little boys my sons were taught respect for others, the value of hard work, what it meant to love and be loved, to be responsible and kind, and to cherish family. I know that they both aspired to be successful men, husbands and fathers. Each has worked hard to become the fine men they are today and equally deserve to experience the happiness and stability that marriage and family offer.

Adam married the love of his life, Shondell, and together they are raising my grandson, Connor (age 5). It is a joy to watch my son be a father and our relationship has even more depth because Adam now understands the trials and tribulations of marriage and parenthood.

Mike is engaged to the love of his life, Erdi, and they very much want to be married and have children in the future. Mike deserves the same opportunity to experience the satisfaction that being a husband and father can bring every bit as much as his brother, Adam. However, there is a huge obstacle in the way of Mike’s chance to have what Adam can take for granted. Mike and Erdi are gay. Not only are they banned from marrying in most of the United States, but Erdi is Turkish and current immigration laws discriminate against gay couples who have a foreign spouse. Spouses of straight couples automatically gain entry to the United States if they marry a U.S. citizen. An anti-gay law, called the “Defense of Marriage Act” by denying equal recognition to Mike and Erdi, is tearing apart our family.

It is beyond my comprehension to understand why people believe my son Mike’s desire to marry could possibly undermine or destroy my son Adam’s own marriage. It breaks my heart that my grandson, Connor, is deprived of extended family and the ability to see his uncles in person. Skype is no replacement for Sunday dinner together. I will soon be traveling to Istanbul, Turkey to meet my future son-in-law, Erdi, and his family. I wish I could feel certain that Mike will someday have the opportunity to introduce him to our family. Any law that discriminates in this way against my son, also harms our entire family. This is not a gay issue, this is about American families. And it is time for this to come to an end, so my son and his partner can come home to us.

Read Mike and Erdi’s full story: “Mike & Erdi: Love Story That Began On Father-Son Trip Leads to Filing of Fiancé Visa Petition and a Move to Turkey.”

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