Couples That Beat The Odds

Steven Pearl and Gino Grenek, Brooklyn, New York

Steven, a 40-year-old editor, and Gino, a 33-year-old dancer, finish each other's sentences with an edgy intimacy. They met at a party in 2000, felt an instant simpatico and attraction, and soon became a pair. Today they share an apartment in Brooklyn and consider themselves official domestic partners even if New York rejects same-sex marriage. This barrier notwithstanding, Steven and Gino find New York City especially accepting ("It's not Brokeback Mountain out here," Gino says)—so much so that their greatest relationship challenges come not from their same-sex status but from religion and involvement with work. Steven is Jewish, while Gino is Russian Orthodox. Both come from observant families. "We have learned to celebrate these differences and participate in each other's rituals," Steven explains. Gino travels with his troupe, while Steven works regular hours as an editor. "I told him that dance comes first and he comes second, but I've softened a bit on that," Gino states. According to Steven, the one complexity that may rear its head in the future involves having a family. "A lot of gay men and women don't often think of themselves as having children," he comments, "and to some degree I've internalized that." Yet, growing their family is something they consider. Says Gino, "If we decide to have a family, I think we'll both be fantastic fathers and role models for our kids."

Steven and Joyce Boro, Portland, Oregon

Couples on the margins of society may discover that a relationship frowned on in one locale is encouraged elsewhere. For Steven and Joyce Boro, a white Jewish man and a black Caribbean woman, that meant moving their show west—far from the disapproving eyes of family and friends in New York—to a commune. "I'd mainly dated white guys, but I never brought them to meet my mother," says Joyce. "It was probably intentional, because I wanted to avoid the racial issue with her. And Steven's mother thought blacks were the scum of the earth." By moving to the commune, they simultaneously limited their contact with their parents and gained a network of supportive friends. Ultimately they moved to Portland, where they raised their two children and have remained happily married for more than 30 years. Of course, like all interracial couples, they have been subject to some negative scrutiny. "Just the other day, I got angry looks from a black guy when we were walking together in Seattle," says Steven. "We've had our share of looks from whites, too. But none of that means anything to me. I've never really seen Joyce's color. It looks good on her, though."

Ken and Sara Benjamin, Taverna, Florida

When Ken and Sara were dating in 1988, they faced problems: Ken wanted to marry, but Sara was twice divorced. Ken, then 24, was interested in having children, but Sara, then 40, already had two going off to college. "I liked marriage, but I was at the end of child-rearing and wanted to stretch my wings," Sara recalls. Adding insult to injury, people kept mistaking Sara for Ken's mother.

They found a unique way to solve their dilemmas: They backpacked around the world for two years. "I wouldn't say we went on the trip to escape the problems," says Sara. "We just needed to get into a neutral area to work things out." They went to India and Nepal, stayed in hostels and hiked mountains. "In these places, where people's life spans were very contracted, we would tell people we were a couple, and they would respond flat out: 'That's not possible; she's too old,'" remembers Ken.

There was no escaping the issues, but the longer they were together, the more they loved one another. So they compromised: On their return, Sara agreed to marry Ken and he passed up having children. "I didn't want children as a concept, I just wanted her children," says Ken. In fact, it all worked out. "Even though I'm only five years older than Sara's daughter, she needed support and I was glad to fill that role."

Tracie and Leo Auguste, Miami, Florida

Tracie Auguste, 30, is Chinese, and her husband, Leo, 31, is Haitian—but cultural and racial differences have never stood in their way. One reason: At North Miami Senior High, where they met when she was a junior and he a senior, they were simply fellow minority students in the multicultural melting pot that was their school. "People might have noticed if Tracie were white," comments Leo, "but we were both minorities and no one batted an eye." Even their families were accepting. "Leo's family wouldn't have cared if I was purple, they loved me like a daughter," says Tracie. Though Tracie's parents were more standoffish, they have heartily embraced Leo since the arrival of the couple's two children, ages four and one. By living and working in Miami (he's a carpenter and she's an assistant policy director for the mayor of Miami Dade) Leo and Tracie have continued to escape stigma. Leo is mindful, however, of the judgments his children may face. "America still teaches us to view people based on appearance," he says. "The best thing we can do for our children is to teach them to be proud of who they are."

Stephanie and Juan Carlos Valderramos, Bronx, New York

Serving as a Peace Corps volunteer in Honduras in 1998, Stephanie,
an educated Chinese-American, was "adopted" by the family of a friendly coworker who happened to have a son named Juan. "I didn't have a TV, so I'd go to their house after work and watch it there. I had most of my meals there," Stephanie recalls. Meeting Juan in the bosom of his nurturing family showed her just what she was getting, and their relationship took off.

To outsiders, they seemed mismatched: Stephanie had already applied to medical school, while Juan, who needed to work to pay the bills, was still in high school. But the differences didn't bother them. "Juan is really smart. We talk about everything—at first in Spanish, now more in English—and he always has an opinion," says Stephanie, who notes that Juan served as her cultural guide during their time in Honduras. Juan concurs: "I'm proud of who I am, and I liked her the way she was. If she wanted to be with me, it made no difference that she had more money or education."

Stephanie now works as a physician and Juan is studying at Bronx
Community College and plans to become an environmental engineer.