By a fortunate coincidence, my boyfriend Micheal and I were already planning to be in Washington, D.C., the night of June 26 for an awards ceremony. Taken on its own, the honor and delight of receiving a nationally recognized award at the National Press Club was something I had only imagined during my decades in photography. But when the long-awaited marriage-equality ruling wound through and towards the end of June, and the speculation of that anniversary date being the big day, we couldn’t pass on the possibility and opportunity of being at the Supreme Court as the decision was announced.
When we arrived at the Supreme Court steps around 9 a.m., there was a crowd of about 300 people milling about and a press campsite established, with a line next to it a half-block long of people still hoping to get inside the building, long after the doors had been opened for admittance and closed.
There were people from across the country — Vermont, Michigan, Washington, Texas, California, Ohio, Alaska and more. There were people from Puerto Rico, Canada and England and probably other countries as well, all comingled with security, media and tourists. Several families visiting D.C. even stopped to learn what was going on.
As minutes crawled, the constrained excitement of the crowd was almost palpable. Would the ruling be today? Would we be victorious? Would there be stunned silence and incomprehension if the case went against us?
The tension reached the critical point just before 10 a.m. Hundreds more had arrived to witness history being made and the crowd swelled to easily over 3,000 people. All eyes were on the Supreme Court building waiting for the “running of the interns,” that time-honored delivery system of the word from on high to the common folk on the street.
My thoughts turned towards the marchers at Independence Hall from almost exactly 50 years prior. We were again standing up for our rights and our beliefs, this time waiting for the outcome of a fight that had consumed decades. It was as if we were at a juncture between history and the promises of the future.
Then they came. Sprinting from the courthouse towards each of their respective news outlets they ran. In those seconds, my joy and pride in being a part of this elite group as millions of other LGBT brothers and sisters waited for news was unparalleled. The crowd cheered the runners even before the decision was announced.
Seconds later, it got louder — the joyful cheers of thousands of LGBTQA people who were getting word one by one and in small groups that victory had been declared, and we were now all equals to the masses who were already granted marriage rights. It did not subside for at least a full minute. It was as if we were in a massive group hug and love was pouring through the crowd.
Some danced, many cried. And as every detail emerged, the celebrating just got broader. Thousands of celebratory photos, Tweets and posts locked up social media as our friends and some of our families re-shared the good news. Just being there, in the midst of all the joy, is an experience I’ll never forget.
As the minutes ran on and everyone intermingled, I saw three young gay men talking with one of the very-few demonstrators of the opposition. Talking, not yelling at each other, not calling each other names or even belittling their stances. They were having a conversation. My hopes are that this was another small step towards understanding, and that it will not be the last.
I get emotional still when I think of that morning. The past had caught up to the future and we looked it right in the eye, tears and everything. Just like other momentous moments in history where people remember where they were when they heard the news, we will remember June 26, 2015.
We were there.