Waltzing on Out

When people ask me what contributions at work make me proud, this article, published in the Decorah Newspaper in 2002, is the first thing that comes to mind. Bill Musser and Otter Dreaming were one of six plaintiff couples in the precedent-setting Varnum vs. Brien, which led to the Iowa Supreme Court ruling allowing gay marriage in 2009. But at the time, they were just two guys who had an interesting story to tell. Graciously, they allowed me to tell it.

After the Supreme Court of the United States struck down both the Defense of Marriage Act and Proposition 8 last week, I asked Bill if he still had a copy of it. Reading it again after so many years, I am struck by many things: How far we have come in accepting that love comes in many forms, and how discrimination against gay people, while still present, is beginning to fade. But what is most humbling and gratifying to me is the courage and generosity of these two men, and their willingness to let a young reporter tell their very personal stories to our community, to perhaps get that community to think about things differently. That is courage in its truest form, my friends. And, just so you know, Bill and Otter, two very humble and mild-mannered men from small towns in Iowa, had a lot to do with what SCOTUS handed down last week.

The Internet and social media have exploded since this article is written, so I decided to revisit it to see if we could spread the word beyond Northeast Iowa. We have come so far, but stories like these still need to be told, shared and discussed.

To Bill and Otter (and now Cleo): Thank you - and keep dancing.

It was clear from the start he had dancing at heart

As a babe, how he swayed when the radio played.

Later on, as a child, he was labeled ‘too wild,’

And his dancing days were waylaid

So his heart said, ‘I’ll hide your dancer away’

Until that safe day when he can come out to stay.

They talk of their recent trip to Vermont with the excitement and hope any other couple would express when describing their wedding.

They want to host a local reception to share their joy with family and friends. They plan a listing in the local newspaper, complete with picture, announcing their union – just like any other couple would.

But Bill Musser and Otter Dreaming aren’t just any other couple.

Their happy words are expressed with an air of deliberation, because they know no matter how carefully they choose them, someone will be upset.

It’s difficult to deal with, and even harder sometimes to understand. But it’s a reality they’ve come to accept.

“You keep it quiet. You don’t say anything to lead people to think about you not being ‘normal.’ If you’re not ‘normal’ in a small town, you’re often ostracized,” said Musser.

Being a gay couple in a town of 8,000 people is not easy, they say.

“It’s an everyday thing – to know you’re lying by not telling the truth,” said Musser. “Knowing there’s not legitimate way for you to be married to someone or show that you love somebody. You can’t hold hands, kiss in public or put your arm around someone.”

But both are not strangers to small towns. Raised near Spring Grove, Minn., Musser knew he was “different” at an early age, and, with the exception of living briefly in other locations, has chosen to make Decorah his home.

“Decorah felt like more of an open place to me at the time,” he said. “I knew other gay people when I was a student at Luther College. Decorah is bigger by small town standards, and I felt more comfortable. It’s a great town in so many ways.

“But I’m aware of being different – especially when I see friends with their spouses and kids. On the other hand, having so many supportive ‘straight’ friends made my choice to live here much easier.”

And the fourth time that he danced, the last time,

Well that’s the one he’s kept so secret not even he can quite remember it.

He was thirteen, almost thirty years ago.

Dreaming was raised near Elgin, Iowa.

“Growing up, I felt pretty isolated in some ways, and being gay was part of it,” he said.

After graduating from high school, he stayed in Iowa for a while, but until recently lived in the Pacific Northwest.

“I’ve always been a much more reserved person,” he said. “Leaving Iowa was a way I could meet people and where I could start opening up and trusting them. I just didn’t see that as a possibility here back then.”

Dreaming returned to Iowa in 1997, and is studying biology/pre-medicine at Upper Iowa University.

“I came back to Iowa with a better sense of myself and more ready to let myself be known here,” he said.

“When I moved back to the Midwest, all my Northwest friends said, ‘You’re gay and you’re moving to Iowa?’ I thought my chances of a long-term relationship were over, but at the time, it wasn’t a priority for me. Meeting Bill was pretty much a complete surprise.”

So he’s danced for another: father, teacher and mother,

While his own feelings sat out of reach on a shelf.

But tonight for the first time, in a wild unrehearsed time,

This dancer is going to dance for himself.

The couple met through a mutual friend, who knew they had similar interests. Both are involved in academia – and both have a passion for music. They met to listen to music at a local café and hit it off immediately.

“I remember all the details of our first meeting,” said Musser. “I felt like we were headed for something early on.”

That summer, Dreaming was working on a school project collecting prairie grass samples from various locations in Iowa.

“We drove hundreds – thousands of miles at all hours of the day,” said Dreaming. “I kept telling Bill – ‘You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.’”

“I wanted to,” said Musser with a laugh.

“But we had so much fun,” said Dreaming. “We really got to know each other that way. I had been in a couple of relationships, but didn’t feel I was a s ready and as comfortable as I am with Bill,” he said.

“I just knew,” added Musser. “I’ve never felt as at-home in previous relationships as I do with Otter.”

Dance, dance, dance …

There’s no turning back once you’ve taken the chance.

So when you come out, you might as well come waltzing out with a dance.

The couple kept their relationship quiet for a while, but announced it rather unexpectedly when Musser lost his mother last fall.

“My mom died Sept. 30,” Musser said. “Otter and I were stranded with car trouble in Sioux City after gathering prairie grass specimens. When I got word, Otter was great about everything – I don’t know how else I would have gotten through it.”

After the visitation, Musser began introducing Dreaming to his family.

“That was a big thing for me,” he said. “Maybe it was kind of an inopportune time, but I felt Otter was this special person to me, and I don’t want to tell people he’s not special. I wasn’t going to lie. So I told people, ‘This is my partner, Otter.’

“My family understood,” he continued. “So my mother’s death was a life-changing event in many ways. Into all of this came the decision that we’re not going to hide – we want to let people know, especially my family.”

Dance, dance, dance …

To make a change often means taking a stance.

So when you come out, you might as well come waltzing out with a dance.

Like many other couples planning a future together, Musser and Dreaming wanted to make their union official.

The state of Iowa, like 48 others, does not recognize same-sex marriages. Vermont is the only state in the nation legally recognizing homosexual couples.

“You think about what’s available for straight people to bolster and affirm their relationships. With gay couples, there are so many religious and social issues,” Musser said.

“Vermont’s same-sex marriage law has absolute equal footing with marriage – it incorporates all the same rights and responsibilities,” added Dreaming.

The couple traveled to Vermont last spring for a legal marriage ceremony. Though the legality of the act is not recognized anywhere but Vermont, both felt it was an important step in their relationship.

“In a way, it was symbolic, but it’s also a concrete, real thing for us,” said Musser. “We have a piece of paper that says the law supports our relationship."

Both said there are frustrations with not having their union recognized in Iowa. The couple has since attempted to apply for a marriage license in Iowa. They were turned down as expected.

“This commitment is no less valid than others. We think it’s important to push the envelope a little bit on legal issues,” said Musser.

Dance, dance, dance …

Life is too short to be closed to romance.

So when you come out, though you’re in some doubt,

Each and every time you’re further out

And you might as well come waltzing out with a dance.

Aside from legal issues, Musser and Dreaming recognize being public with their relationship will be a continual challenge.

“I know from personal experience what discrimination is, and now that Otter and I are a couple, it’s a lot easier to see how discrimination can happen, and how it happens against gay people in society,” said Musser. “But I really believe everyone can make a change by working hard to enlighten people, and in this case, being vulnerable. You risk a lot to be vulnerable with other people in order for them to be vulnerable with you.”

“I think it’s important that people get a chance to meet others who are being discriminated against – to see them as people and not just as issues,” said Dreaming. “It’s harder to hold on to cultural stereotypes when you get to know someone.”

Both are active in Parents and Families and Friends of Lesbians and Gays (PFLAG), an organization committed to supporting and educating people about alternative relationships.

“I’m so affirmed by the people in that group,” said Musser. “They’re determined to do something to change people’s attitudes about gays and lesbians.”

Musser and Dreaming have spoken to school and pastoral groups about their experiences. “I can tell my story and be open. I see people learning something they hadn’t learned before,” said Musser. “Being open in front of people makes me feel stronger.”

When it comes to societal attitudes about gay people in a small town, both Musser and Dreaming feel things have come a long way. Musser recalled an experience when Foot-Notes, a local band he plays in, was performing at the Highlandville School.

“A young family had come to the dance, and brought the wife’s gay brother and his partner,” he said. “The two gay men danced with women, as is usually the case. But at one point, the woman’s husband asked his brother-in-law to dance. It was a waltz. They negotiated who was going to lead – and they danced.

“That was the first time I had ever seen anything like that happen in Highlandville,” he said. “It was something I wished would happen more often. Women can dance with women, but men can’t dance with men. That experience in Highlandville inspired me so much. The dances at that little school became a symbol of tolerance for me. I have kept that image in my mind for a long time.”

Recently, Dreaming performed a concert of original music as a benefit for the Decorah Diversity Appreciation Team (DDAT). The piece that brought the audience to its feet was “Come Waltzing Out,” a composition he wrote about his experiences dancing with another man for the first time, another step in his process of “coming out.” Lyrics to the song appear throughout this article.

“For a while, I had stopped dancing,” said Dreaming. “I was really unhappy, because I love to dance.”

“We both do,” said Musser. “We hope to dance together for a long time.”