Marriage equality is coming, and not merely to a theater near

In the words of Suzanne Brockmann, the novelist who writes with the fire of justice in her pen, we find a prophecy wrapped in humor and truth: “Marriage equality is coming, and not merely to a theater near you.” Though it may sound like a jest, it is, in truth, a declaration—a call to the heart and conscience of humankind. Marriage equality is not merely a law or a movement; it is the flowering of an ancient seed, the awakening of love from the shadows of prejudice. When Brockmann spoke these words, she spoke not only to her time, but to all ages—to those who have been denied dignity and to those who must learn to grant it.

In the ancient days, love itself was seen as divine, unbound by the judgments of men. The poets of Greece sang of Eros, who struck gods and mortals alike, careless of gender or station. Yet over centuries, humanity built walls around love—walls of fear, of custom, of misunderstanding. The strong told the weak whom they could love; the righteous told the outcast what form love must take. And so, marriage, once the celebration of the soul’s union, became a fortress guarded by law and tradition. But time, like the tide, wears away every wall, and Brockmann’s words herald that rising tide—the return of love to its rightful freedom.

When she says that marriage equality is coming, she speaks as the prophets once did: not in hope, but in certainty. The river of justice may wind and wander, but it flows always toward the sea. What she foresaw was not a dream, but a destiny—that the day would come when love between two women, or two men, or any two souls, would no longer be a spectacle for the stage, but a simple, sacred truth of life. The phrase “not merely to a theater near you” reminds us that art, film, and fiction may lead the way, but reality must follow. It is not enough for equality to be applauded on screens; it must be lived in the streets, in families, and in the laws of nations.

Consider the story of h Windsor, who loved her partner Thea Spyer for more than forty years. They built a life together, shared laughter, sickness, and dreams. Yet when Thea died, the United States government refused to recognize their marriage, and h was forced to pay taxes that no widow of a man would face. Her grief became the spark of revolution. She brought her case before the highest court, and in 2013, the Supreme Court struck down the law that had denied their love its name. Her victory was not just her own—it was a torch passed to millions, lighting the path Brockmann had spoken of. From that fire, hearts across the world began to awaken.

In truth, marriage equality is not about politics—it is about the triumph of the human spirit. It is the insistence that love is love, and that the measure of a bond lies not in the bodies of those who form it, but in the depth of their devotion. It reminds us that the sacred does not belong to the few but to all who love with sincerity. When two souls vow to walk together through life’s storms, that promise ennobles them both—no matter their gender, their faith, or their nation.

Let the lesson, then, be this: every generation is called to widen the circle of compassion. The ancients taught that the gods favored justice and mercy above all things; so too must we. If we believe in freedom, then love must be free. If we believe in equality, then the right to marry must be equal. And if we claim to believe in humanity, then we must honor all who love, for in their courage we glimpse the divine.

So, to those who still doubt, let them look to the march of history. The voices of change, once whispers, now thunder across nations. The theaters have shown the stories; now the people live them. Marriage equality is not a spectacle—it is a revolution of the heart. And to those who stand upon its threshold, take heed: do not wait for justice to arrive; become its herald. Stand for love where others are silent. Speak for dignity where others turn away. For when equality comes, it will not come like lightning from the sky—it will come through the hands, the courage, and the compassion of each of us.