Tag Archives: wedding

Married

Yesterday, we had a paparazzi wedding ceremony at the Lutheran Church of Reformation in Washington D.C.

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It was nonetheless, lovely to share our love with so many people, including all our badass friends from the National Immigrant Youth Alliance, and the same-sex binational couples from Immigration Equality who have so long been denied due process and equal protection under the law.

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Special thanks go to Emiliano Rojas, son of Claudio Rojas, who is the Cake Boss of the movement and stayed up all night making us a beautiful wedding cake with the help of Cristobal Lagunas-Alvarez, from DreamActivist Massachusetts. We are still eating through it, but you can have a photo.

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We’ll be getting legally married in a private ceremony in August.

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Thank you so much for making this day so wonderful and special.

Now Lindsay can work towards getting her Fijian citizenship.

Some media articles about the wedding are here:

P.S. Please email Lindsay Schubiner, lschubiner@gmail.com, for media quotes and comments as I’m busy studying for the bar exam.

P.P.S. Please send us all photos of the wedding ceremony!

Photo Credit: William Anderson, Benito Miller and Immigration Equality

 

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Wedding

I was at an airport. I couldn’t find my ticket. I didn’t know my airline, let alone my confirmation code. I frantically looked at my clock but couldn’t make out the time. And I seemed to have misplaced my iPhone so I couldn’t look up any flight information.

The TSA officer shot me a puzzled look. “Where are you trying to go?”

“I don’t know.” I whispered. I had forgotten. I couldn’t remember how I got to the airport and where I was going. I just knew I had to be somewhere important and that I had to get there soon.

I picked up the scent of fresh linen. And then, it happened. I could hear her hushed, whispered tones in my ear telling me not to be late for our wedding.

“I’ve never missed a flight before. I’m not going to start now,” I replied.

Then, she asked me to travel safely. I had forgotten everything else.

“Wedding. I have to go to a wedding. My wedding.” I muttered, at no one in particular. And it was in a different country. I frowned. It made no sense for so many reasons.

I tried to recall how she looked. Maybe that would give me some clue as to where I needed to be. My mind drew a blank.

“You are getting married and you don’t know where it is?” His tone was incredulous.

Next, I found myself on a bed. In a sleepy haze, I only needed to ask myself one question. And it wasn’t the one asked by the TSA officer.

“You are still undocumented,” I said out loud to myself. That would mean I couldn’t fly out of the country. So there really wasn’t any wedding to attend.

I turned around and went back to sleep, satisfied and reassured. I didn’t need to be anywhere else but in my bed underneath the covers, sleeping soundly.

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