(Image by Berolino used under CC 2.0 via)
I never thought the U.S., my country of birth, would enact marriage equality before Germany, my country of residence. And yet here we are. When I moved here 12 years ago, same-sex civil unions were legal across the country and the mayors of Berlin and Hamburg, the two largest cities, were both openly gay. The country was four years away from the election of its first openly gay vice-chancellor. Back in the U.S., the Supreme Court had only just decriminalized homosexuality nationwide, same-sex marriage bans were spreading across states, and the president was pushing for a nationwide ban in the form of an amendment to the Constitution. The hard-won victories we have seen since are worth every moment of celebration, but the backlash has been loud and angry.
When it comes to gender equality, Germany is hardly in the midst of such a heated culture war. Restrictions on reproductive freedom or sex education rarely make it into the national debate. Paid parental leave is generous and available to both mothers and fathers. Those who find marriage antiquated or unnecessary are widespread among Germans of all income levels and political persuasions. I know young, white-collar couples with four children and conservative couples in their 60s who have never gotten around to getting married. Among those who are married, it is not hard to find men who have taken their wives’ surnames or created a hyphenated name, like the head of the Protestant Church. Few noticed when Germany became the first European nation to add a third gender option on birth certificates. I have met my share of men here who have nothing nice to say about feminism (or “genderism,” as they sometimes call it), but I have met far more who actively embrace it. Men like the dad who famously wore a skirt in public so that his little boy would feel safe doing so.
But anecdotes about cultural values can be problematic. Personal experiences can depend heavily on the social circles you tend toward. Liberal cities like Berlin and New York both have corners where LGBTQI people are threatened. And as the geographical crossroads of Europe, Germany’s political landscape is varied. The home of the Lutheran Church is also home to Alpine and Rhineland Catholics, and atheists of the former East Germany. The loudest opposition to marriage equality here has come from Catholic bishops and the fledgling far-right, anti-immigration party Alternative für Deutschland (AfD). The AfD has moved to challenge this week’s marriage equality law in court. Legal experts are divided as to how successful they could be. The AfD’s polling numbers have dropped to 7%. Meanwhile, 44% of its voters support marriage equality, and its current candidate for the national election in September happens to be an openly lesbian woman who is in a civil union with a woman from Sri Lanka.
A national study released this week found 83% of Germans support marriage equality. Four of the five parties represented in the Bundestag – the Greens, the Left, the pro-business Free Democrats, and the center-left Social Democrats – stated their official support before the Bundestag vote. While only 75 of the 309 members of Angela Merkel’s center-right Christian Democrats voted yes, a survey of their supporters in the general public revealed that 73% were for it. This in a party named for its traditional association with the Catholic Church. All in all, support for marriage equality in Germany is widespread and significantly higher than in all but five of the 21 countries that already had marriage equality before this week.
This explains why marriage equality has taken so long here. Since the horrors of the Nazi regime as well as Communist East Germany, politicians in the Federal Republic have generally sought to be more pragmatic than ideological. Social change is usually slow and incremental for the sake of consensus-building. This is done for the sake of preventing angry backlash and deep divisions.
Of course, this gradual approach can be deeply upsetting for those waiting on their human rights. A couple in their thirties seeking to adopt wants to have a family now. A patient dying of AIDS wants the partner who stood by him to be legally protected from whatever objections his family may have now. As many politicians argued during the Bundestag vote, offering same-sex couples the right to marriage instead of mere civil unions is a way of proving that Germany not just tolerates them but accepts them. That such couples and families have had to wait for others to accept them is as much a moral problem as it is a historical fact.
100 years ago Berlin was home to the first gay rights magazine, the first LGBT film and the first LGBT neighborhood. Many have deemed it the gay capital of the world at the time and some historians claim it was on the brink of becoming the first Western jurisdiction to legalize homosexuality in 1929. But then. We know what happened. Berlin sent its LGBT citizens to death camps. The quiet street where I live is scarred by plaques naming the victims, Nazi and Soviet bullet holes, and the exact place where the Wall later stood. When I moved here 12 years ago, it was renowned for being East Berlin’s gay district. It is a conglomerate that tells a story and shows that all cultural values rely on the intersection of when and where. This is why human rights must be vigilantly protected, never taken for granted. And why every place on earth has the capacity to change.