When the tiramisu arrives with two spoons

When my wife and I were planning to move to Europe we heard on a few occasions, “Well, I hope it’s everything you want it to be." Not in a genuine way, but in a tone that meant “You have unrealistic expectations of what life should be like.”

It’s not that we wanted to wake up every day feeling like we were in a movie, being the American main characters “discovering” themselves. We just want the little things like being able to comfortably walk to the grocery store or wake up and take a train to a new city for the day.

I could write novels about the ways our lives improved (precisely in the ways we wanted) when we lived in Groningen, Netherlands for four weeks.

Haiden and I in Groningen.

But as it is Pride Month, I want to focus on our small beautiful experiences as queers in our month-long trip to the first nation to legalize same-sex marriage.

For example, Dutch servers always assumed my wife and I were a couple and gave us two spoons when we ordered one dessert or automatically put our meals on one check. This just felt like such a treat coming from a state where you never know if the server is going to randomly ask if you and your partner are sisters.

I cannot think of a single time that someone asked that about me and my actual sister. To be fair, my wife and I are a lot whiter than my sister, but it doesn’t take away from the fact that the nature of my interactions with my wife is vastly different than with my sister.

It’s so obvious to me that holding hands with my wife, kissing them on the cheek, and cozying into their side while we wait in line, are signs of romantic affection. But for some, the prospect of queerness doesn’t even cross their mind, so they see our interactions and ask if we are sisters to try and put give an explanation for what they are seeing. (I always have to ask though: Do some sisters out there hold hands while walking around? Is this just a blind spot I have that I’m interpreting as homophobia?

So yeah, when my wife and I were out at a restaurant in the Netherlands and they automatically handed us one check for our meals or two spoons for the one tiramisu we ordered, it felt monumental.

It’s not that my wife and I became more openly affectionate towards each other in the Netherlands, leading to these reactions from the Dutch. I didn’t see the waiter approach us and quickly dip Haiden down to give them a long, deep, romantic kiss so that everyone would know we were together. We just did the things we always do: We scoot decorations and bread baskets over so we can hold hands over the tabletop. We order the dishes we can’t decide between and split them. Haiden lovingly smiles at me when I’m frantically trying to decide on a beverage.

And the Dutch saw this, not because they are an overly romantic bunch that just adores young love, but because they acknowledge the existence of queer folk. They saw us, in the same way American waiters see straight couples.

I know that Europe is not free of homophobia. I know that many queer folk fear for their lives globally. I know that being femme-presenting makes me less of a target than androgynous folk or non-passing trans people. I know that I am white and more tolerance is given because of that.

Several days before my wife and I arrived in Groningen there was an incident at a drag bar where rocks were thrown in the window and workers were assaulted. No place is entirely free for LGBTQIA+ folk.

But damn, for four weeks I felt more free than I have in the 23 years I have lived in the United States. We have been back in Kentucky for a few weeks and have already received several sets of side eyes from people walking by us when we’re holding hands on the sidewalk and questions about us being related.

The Groningen community library has a permanent LGBTQIA+ section, though queer books are not secluded there. Here, our local library couldn’t be bothered to change even one of the many front displays to acknowledge Pride Month (I also did not see a display for Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month in May either).

The LGBTQIA+ community often talks about the erasure of our identities. Queer culture and rights are governmentally challenged daily, like the removal of queer literature from schools and the implementation of “Don’t Say Gay” bills.

And then there is this other phenomenon that I have just described, where queer people are erased right where they are on public sidewalks and inside restaurant booths. People will look queer folks dead in the eye and tell us that we are not real, in those words or under the guise of an “innocent” question or statement.

We have to fight to be recognized today and in history, and while most of the Kentucky legislature is fighting against that, I am grateful for all of the local organizations standing up for LGBTQIA+ rights.