I still cannot believe that I am married in 50 states.

When my wife and I married, nearly nine years ago, we did so in the only place where it was legal.  It was still a really big deal when the pastor said, "By the power vested in me by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts..." And today the echo of those words makes me weep anew.  The echo has shifted: "By the State of Texas..." "By the State of Mississippi..." "By the State of Ohio..."; the power and awe have not.

These days are days of celebration, for me, for my family, and for the LGBT community.  In many ways, our lives - and those of our partners and children - have become more secure, less fearful.  Crossing state lines is no longer a cause of anxiety.  Grief at a partner's death is no longer compounded by the insult of huge tax burdens or difficult property transfers.  Our commitments have been recognized as being every bit as deep, every bit as loving, every bit as valid, as any other loving partnership.

These are not, however, days of complacency.  

Friday, we cheered, we cried, we danced, we married.  We bore witness to love, and to love's power.  We held up our children, that they might remember the crowds and the rainbows, the joy and the hope. 

Now, we turn again to the struggle for equality, strengthened by the joy of the Supreme Court's ruling, but fully cognizant that it is not the endgame for any of us. 

Because what marriage equality doesn't change is that my wife has been discouraged from talking with her students about our family in nearly every school in which she has worked.  Even in states with equal marriage.  What it doesn't change is the threats to our emotional and physical safety that my family has experienced.  What it doesn't change is that my sons have to learn the delicate art of how to come out, over and over, as having two moms... and to negotiate when that disclosure is safe, and when it is not.  What it doesn't change is the very real dangers of harrassment, bullying and violence that LGBT people still face on a regular basis, often in the name of religion.

What marriage equality doesn't change is that in a majority of states, a person can still be fired for being gay or trans*.  Landlords can refuse housing, or evict tenants, for those same reasons.  Queer youth still make up a disproportionate percentage of the homeless youth population.  Health plans still routinely deny coverage for trans*-specific healthcare, making medical transition a privilege which not everyone can access. 

What marriage equality doesn't change is that, in the first six months of this year, at least 14 trans* people have been killed - and that's the reported deaths.[1] Most of those who have died have been people of color. Still more have died by suicide: 41% of trans* people have attempted suicide, a rate nine times higher than the national average.  That number rises to 69% of trans* people who have experienced homelessness, and 60% of those who have been rejected by a healthcare provider because of their gender identity.[2]

I rejoice at the Supreme Court's ruling, which paves the way for a world in which my children will be safer, in which they will know greater freedom than I could have imagined at their age.  But there is a lot still to do in order to ensure that the world in which our children grow up will be safe for them, no matter who they love or how they identify.  The struggle continues, with renewed courage and strength.