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Landscapes of a Marriage My Lesbian Husband: Landscapes of a Marriage by Barrie Jean Borich; Graywolf Press, 297 pages; $24.95.
Like all same-sex couples, Barrie and Linnea must deal with the fact that their union is not sanctioned by law or by custom. "Linnea and I have been lovers for all these years, and I wonder - are we married?" Even her choice of words to describe Linnea's relation to herself is problematic: "When I call Linnea my husband I mean that she's a woman who has to lead when we slow dance, who is compelled to try to dip and twirl me, no matter that I have rarely been able to relax on a dance floor since I stopped drinking. . . . When I call her my husband I mean that she's a woman I saw dressed seriously in a skirt and heels just once, early on, when she still tried to cross over for job interviews. . . . When I say husband I mean the woman lying beside me on a cool spring Sunday evening while the thinning light streaked over our bed from the west turns rose-colored. 'You are my husband,' I whisper to her, and we both laugh a little under our breaths, as we kiss . . ." Barrie's brother Paulie married his Japanese girlfriend Mitsuko with the full support of the family, the church and the state: "When I held our lives next to each other, my brother's looked more like a pretty diamond, mine like plain gray rock without facets, and I was left feeling stoney, unwilling to sing for my baby brother's happiness.". Though Barrie and Linnea have been together longer than most marriages, theirs remained uncharted territory. "'Will you marry me?' Linnea asked, down on one knee, an engagement ring in her hand. And although Borich immediately agreed to her husband's proposal, she could not help but whisper, "But what does it mean?"
"I knew that Linnea and I could get married if we wanted to. Lesbians do. It's not legal, of course, but since when did dykes let that sort of thing stop us?" Eventually, of course, Borich and Linnea do get married, in Las Vegas of all places. "Oh my God, did you turn into a straight woman?" screeched a friend when he heard about the wedding, and there is a point in every lesbian or gay union when we wonder if we are just trying to imitate the straight world. But Barrie Jean Borich did not become a straight woman, even when she went to the Mall of America to buy a wedding dress. Linnea was worth marrying, just as she was worth monogamy: "Our fidelity affords us an unobstructed view. We are each other's audience, madly applauding each somersault of breath, each dangerous sway, each firm step back onto steady ground." Finally, when all was said and done, Borich could look back and call her union a marriage, "for better or worse". Borich does not insist on monogamy for everyone. She just believes that monogamy is right for her. A well-respected writer in her hometown of Minneapolis, Borich is the recipient of many literary awards, most recently the American Library Association's Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender Award for My Lesbian Husband. Like all marriages, Borich's is not without its problems, from insensitive relatives during the holidays to long, hot summers in "Murderapolis". That they survived and prevailed is due in no small part to the strength of their relationship. Though Barrie and Linnea can only speak for themselves, theirs is a story that can inspire all of us, regardless of our sexual orientation, gender or marital status. Read My Lesbian Husband with someone you love. |
This delightful book is a powerful affirmation of a same-sex marriage. For fourteen
years, Barrie Jean Borich has shared a life with Linnea Stenson, the handsome
butch whom she calls her "lesbian husband." In this series of personal essays,
Borich goes back and forth through the years of her marriage, their lives and the home that she
and Stenson built together.
© 1997-2000 BEI