Former Travis County Clerk Dana DeBeauvoir peered into a crowd of sun-kissed, tear-streaked faces on Saturday morning. In front of her were dozens of couples, all sharing the same wedding anniversary: June 26, 2015.
“Love is patient, love is kind,” she said. “Except if you live in Texas, where love is a battleground depending on who you love, and who loves you. We are all battle-tested warriors in the fight for marriage equality. And we have some fine warriors gathered here today.”
Last week, LGBTQ+ couples across Austin celebrated 10 years since the U.S. Supreme Court’s landmark ruling on Obergefell v. Hodges, which struck down Texas’ ban on same-sex marriage and legalized it nationwide.
That day in the summer of 2015, couples quickly lined up outside the clerk’s office on Airport Boulevard and grabbed a number like they were waiting their turn at the deli. DeBeauvoir’s office worked until 10 p.m. that evening, issuing 312 formal and 113 informal marriage licenses.
Phillip and Justin Brady-Joyner were the 31st couple to get married.
“You just heard number after number getting called and everyone erupting into applause,” Phillip said. “I cannot explain in words how cool that moment was.”
Phillip and Justin met in 2010 and made it official after a quintessential Austin first date: a few rounds at Peter Pan Mini Golf followed by Amy’s Ice Cream.
Phillip and Justin were planning to get married in November 2015, but they weren’t sure if it would be legal in Texas by then, and were prepared to wed out of the state if they had to. There were other unknowns too: Would family members support them and attend? Would their honeymoon destination be safe for queer couples?
June 26, 2015 offered Phillip and Justin a rare moment of certainty. They watched the Supreme Court decision unfold on the news and decided right then and there to get married at the Travis County clerk’s office.
The room was packed with couples, allies and journalists. A group of high school students showed up with rainbow-decorated cupcakes. Someone brought hundreds of flowers to give to the newlyweds. Justin and Phillip gave interviews to reporters. A snippet of them on Spectrum News 1 played on a loop every nine minutes.
“Every nine minutes for the next week or so we would get texts from people who would say, ‘Oh my god, you just got married!” Justin said.
Justin and Phillip held a separate marriage ceremony that November with friends and family. They call June 26 their "marriage equality anniversary."
Justin said the most powerful part of that day was seeing older couples who had been together for decades finally be able to get married.
That was the case for Trish Clifford and Lorena De La Cruz-Blackard.
“That morning we didn’t even have the news on,” Clifford said. “We were in our room and our kids were watching the news, and they came and banged on our doors and were like, ‘Moms, you can get married!'”
Clifford and De La Cruz-Blackard met in 2002 and knew within a year that they wanted to spend their lives together. They had LGBTQ+ friends who got married out of state, but they had resolved to wed in Texas.
“We live here and it’s our home,” Clifford said. “I was born in Texas. … I just wanted my state to accept me.”
After more than a decade together, neither of them expected a marriage certificate to change their relationship much. But they said it did.
“It’s very different to be like, ‘No, this is my wife,'” Clifford said. “It has felt really good to say that. And it doesn’t give people the space to discount our relationship or see it as a phase like they did before.”
Even the tedious, bureaucratic elements of marriage felt joyful, Clifford said.
“It was so fun to be like, ‘Yes, I need to put my wife on my insurance,'” Clifford said. “Because my wife is going to be insured on my insurance — being that she is my wife.”
Ten years after they became wives, Clifford and De La Cruz-Blackard held hands in the same spot they got married.
"Do you choose, again today, to walk this life side by side. Knowing your love strengthens not only your home, but the world around you?" Travis County judges said in unison.
Clifford and De La Cruz-Blackhard locked eyes.
"I do."
