Ana is originally from Peru, and she moved to the U.S. a few years before she met me. She was such a lively person; she talked a lot and always made me laugh. She worked for a TV station in New York, and she brought me lots of videos, CDs with American and Latin music, souvenirs from her country, and pictures of her family and places she’d traveled. It was so easy to be with her. I had never felt happier in my life. We spent three amazing days in Moscow and then took a train to my hometown, Saratov.
My parents questioned me about this girl who came to visit, about what her intentions were, and I had to tell them that Ana was my pen pal, just a friend who wanted to see Russia. I felt really bad that we had to hide, that I wasn’t able to talk to my parents honestly about the most important person in my life. But I also didn’t want the trip to end in a scandal. My parents finally agreed for Ana to stay at our house, under the condition that she slept not in my room but in the living room on the couch.
The ten days we spent together in Russia were the best days of my life, and by the time Ana had to leave I knew I was really in love with her. She loved me too, and the fact that she had to return to the U.S. was heartbreaking. We didn’t know when we’d be able to see each other again. At that time I obviously couldn’t apply for a fiancée visa like my sister did when she moved to the U.S. to marry her boyfriend. We wanted to try a tourist or a student visa, but then my situation changed. I heard back from a U.S. exchange program that I’d applied to months before, and I was accepted. I was scheduled to leave for the U.S. in summer 2002. The program wouldn’t bring me to Ana; all of us participants had to go live in Lincoln, Nebraska. But it would bring me close to her, and at the time it seemed like a great opportunity for me to learn about the U.S. economy and help my academic work. In Nebraska, Ana and I stayed in touch the whole time. Our phone bills were huge. I managed to come to New York for Thanksgiving break and meet Ana there, see where she lived. It was the most beautiful city in the world. And, most importantly, Ana lived there.
The program ended in six months, and it was time to go back to Russia. Instead, I traveled to New York to be with Ana. It was hard leaving Russia behind. My parents were furious that I wasn’t coming back, and I was burning all bridges. I had a career in Russia, a nice apartment, friends, family. I sacrificed all that to be with Ana. My parents were the hardest part: I loved them very much, and it broke my heart not to be able to see them.
I didn’t have a choice, though. Even if Ana could come to live with me in Russia, we would never be able to be open there. Life in the U.S. might not always be easy, but at least here I never had a fear of being humiliated and punished for being a lesbian.
Even all these years later, my parents can’t deal with it. They know I live with Ana, but they don’t want to know about her. Every time I talk to them they tell me I’ve ruined my life. They ask me how I can live without papers in the U.S., when in Russia I could have a good job, close to my family. Now I’m an outcast; they guilt-trip me every time we talk, they always tell me I’ve made a mistake, that I’ve ruined my life. My mom has visited a few times. She stayed with us, and the funny thing is, she actually gets along with Ana.
Ana and I always wanted to get married. I proposed to her on May 18, 2003, on the one-year anniversary of our meeting in Moscow. I was still broke at the time, but I somehow managed to save enough money to buy her a gold ring with a heart covered with tiny diamonds (really tiny, but pretty). She said yes. But we couldn’t get married back then; same-sex marriages weren’t legal in New York. Regardless, Ana was my partner, and we’ve been living together ever since. In our hearts, we considered ourselves married and committed to each other, even if we had to wait to do it officially.
Ana and I also always wanted to have children, and we considered various options that would allow us to have a child, including adoption. But when our friend, a gay man, suggested we have a child together, we really liked that idea. Our daughter, Elena, was born in June 2009. Ana and I are raising her, and Elena’s father comes to visit about twice a month, and plays with Elena for a few hours. He’s happy to have a biological child, and also happy not to have the responsibility of caring for a kid full-time. He works long hours and goes on lots of business trips; he wouldn’t be able to take care of a child himself anyway.
Elena changed our lives a lot. Raising a kid is sleepless nights, added expenses, and no free time. But I’m really proud of my family. It might not fit the definition of “traditional,” but it’s a very happy one. My parents are happy I have a kid, too. I was 29 before I had her, so they were worried I was going to become an “old” childless woman. I send them pictures every day of Elena. My mom bought a new computer so we talk on Skype a lot, too. It’s funny, sometimes I send them photos of the three of us, but I never told my parents Ana and I got married. It was sad that I couldn’t tell them, but I don’t think they could ever accept it. So if I don’t have to tell them, why cause them the headache? Anyway, I accomplished the mission. I have a daughter I love, and my parents have a grandchild.
We decided not to get married until 2013, when DOMA was struck down by the Supreme Court, to get full legal recognition of our marriage. Now I can finally call Ana “my wife,” and this makes me smile every time I think about it.
Ana’s relatives have treated us really well. We moved to a new house this summer, and they came to see our new place. Ana’s little nieces and nephew were playing with Elena in the backyard. Our new neighbor, a twelve-year-old girl, came up to talk to them and asked if they were visiting and how they got to know Elena. Ana’s niece, an eight-year-old, proudly said, “Elena is our cousin.” The neighbor girl asked how they could be cousins if Elena didn’t look anything like them. Ana’s family is Hispanic, all of them have dark hair and darker skin, while Elena has my very fair skin and blonde hair. Ana’s niece thought about it for a second, and then said, just as confidently as before, “She might look different, but she’s still part of our family.” When I heard that, I wanted to cry.
ALEXANDER SMIRNOV
“I regret nothing.”
This interview with Alexander Smirnov was originally published in the Russian weekly Afisha in the spring of 2013. As soon as the issue came out, Alexander brought it to his boss, the press secretary for Marat Khusnullin, deputy mayor of Moscow. A few days later, Alexander’s boss called him in for a conversation. She said that the deputy mayor, a Muslim, wouldn’t understand, and that if Alexander didn’t resign, their whole team would be fired, including her, a single mother.
Alexander was offered four months’ pay for his silence about being fired. He took the money (cash, in an envelope) and wrote a resignation letter effective the following day. Two months later, he found himself in the back of a police transport van for the first time. He had participated in a sanctioned LGBT protest and was beaten up and detained. Four months after that, when Vladimir Putin announced there is no discrimination against homosexuals in Russia, Alexander gave another interview where he told the story of how he was fired. “I’m still not convinced that I did the right thing,” he says, “I should have probably returned the money after doing the second interview.” But since his resignation, he hasn’t been able to find work with a comparable salary, possibly because he has reluctantly become a gay rights activist.