I advise you, this is not a light-hearted post. I don’t feel cheerful right now.

Tears fill my eyes as I write this. I am not used to this feeling.

I woke up to news from my wife’s family: her cousin legally married and is throwing a party. Everyone’s excited. Except me.

I admit I am unable to feel happy for her.

This brought up so many memories.

My wedding party was canceled due to the pandemic... two months before the date. We had been paying for it for two years.

But the worst part isn’t the money. Money comes around.

Have you ever tried to imagine what it’s like to plan a wedding with part of the family telling you it’s “not needed” or “a waste of time”? I bet you never had to think about this

“Not needed” or “a waste of time” was never about the party. It was always about us, a same-sex couple.

They always said they loved me, yet, we couldn’t kiss in front of the kids because they “would be confused.”

They wished me well, but didn’t like it when I was too close to her.

They “respected me” but still said “ew” or “such a waste” when they saw others like us.

It is clear by now “they” have names. I will keep it like that, but they’re close family members.

Before we married, I was presented as a friend. Then I was presented as part of the family. But always as a nephew, daughter, and granddaughter, not as my wife’s partner.

Part of me felt happy they actually loved me enough for that. Part of me felt disgusted being aware of the reason they weren’t presenting me correctly.

They didn’t want trouble. I didn’t want to be trouble either. So I swallowed it.

I faced it like a war and thrived for years until I finally got accepted and respected as my wife’s partner. Presented correctly.

But time does not rewind. It’s hard to be the taboo breaker, you know? The first.

I bend, don’t break, but still feel it all.

I never had the privilege of being presented without a second thought. Of sitting at the family table after a week as a welcomed member. The one they don’t worried about what their friends would think about. I wasn’t the guest brought to Christmas dinner after a month of dating. I never will.

I’ve got the scars, and right now, it’s like they’ve been hit by salt. Burning.

Time does not rewind. It feels like it was yesterday.

I sing to send bad thoughts away. Yet the song that’s on loop in my mind is the last years’ memories.

“This is a phase.”

“Who is the male in the relationship?”

“I have to put up with you two. I have no choice.”

Nobody should have to learn what I had to so I wouldn’t cry in public.

The weight of all of this. It smashes me.

We will never be a straight couple. Or have anyone say they’re excited for our wedding beyond social media barriers.

We are doomed to always fight invisible wars: for the right to love, the right to be accepted, the right to be safe.

I won’t surrender.