28. After the Wedding Cake
What comes next for the Obergefell principle
When Obergefell v. Hodges (2015) came down, it was a watershed moment for LGBTQ+ rights. The Supreme Court recognized that same-sex couples have a constitutional right to marry—not just for the sake of legal paperwork, but for the sake of dignity, belonging, and full citizenship. Justice Kennedy’s opinion was as much about constitutional principle as it was about human worth. He argued that liberty and equality are not separate boxes but “interlocking” protections—each strengthening the other when a group is excluded from a fundamental institution.
But marriage equality was never going to be the end of the story. It was the beginning of a new chapter, one in which that same logic is now being tested in the courts. The question is: how far does the Obergefell principle reach?
Let’s look at three of the most pressing frontiers: transgender rights, parental rights of LGBTQ+ couples, and religious liberty objections.
Transgender Rights: What the Court Said in Skrmetti
In United States v. Skrmetti (2025), the Supreme Court upheld Tennessee’s law banning gender-affirming medical care for minors. Senate Bill 1 (SB1) prohibits doctors from prescribing puberty blockers or hormone therapy to anyone under 18 if the purpose is to help them live as a gender different from their assigned sex at birth. It makes exceptions, however, for minors receiving those same medications for other reasons, like precocious puberty or certain congenital conditions.
Three transgender teens and their families challenged the law, arguing that it discriminates based on transgender status and violates equal protection. They claimed the law singled them out for disfavored treatment—not because of what medication they were getting, but because of who they are and what the treatment is for. The Biden administration joined the case in support of the families.
But the Court, in an opinion by Chief Justice Roberts, rejected that framing.
Roberts emphasized that the law does not ban treatments based on a child’s identity. Instead, he said, it draws two kinds of distinctions:
Age: Minors can’t get this kind of treatment; adults can.
Medical purpose: The same drug (like testosterone) is allowed for one condition but not another. A teen girl with excessive hair growth might be prescribed hormone therapy for that issue, but not for gender dysphoria.
In other words, Roberts said, the law wasn’t discriminating based on who the patient is, but why the treatment is being given. And because the law didn’t target a “suspect class” (like race or sex), the Court applied only the most deferential level of constitutional review: rational basis. That means the state only needed to show a plausible justification. Tennessee pointed to what it called serious medical risks, scientific uncertainty, and concerns about minors’ ability to consent—and the Court found that enough.
This is where the contrast with Obergefell becomes clear. In that case, the Court saw same-sex marriage bans as a form of deep constitutional harm. But in Skrmetti, the Court refused to extend that same dignity logic to transgender youth and gender-affirming care. Roberts’ opinion barely engaged with the idea of identity at all. Instead, he treated the case as a dispute over medical regulation, not constitutional status.
So even though Obergefell opened the door to protecting LGBTQ+ dignity through liberty and equality, Skrmetti shows that door is far from automatic when transgender rights are on the line.
Parental Rights: The Next Equal Protection Battle
Marriage is more than a ceremony—it’s a gateway to a whole host of rights, especially when it comes to family. After Obergefell, one of the clearest next steps was ensuring that same-sex couples would be treated equally as parents.
In Pavan v. Smith (2017), the Court reaffirmed this. Arkansas had refused to list both women in a married lesbian couple as parents on their child’s birth certificate. The Court reversed the state’s action without even holding oral argument, saying that Obergefell required equal treatment in all the rights and benefits of marriage, including parenthood.
But Pavan didn’t settle everything.
More recent cases have raised harder questions about what happens when same-sex couples rely on assisted reproduction, surrogacy, or non-biological parenting. For example, some states still resist automatically recognizing the non-biological parent in a lesbian couple, even if the couple is married and raising the child together. Others require extra legal steps, like second-parent adoption, that heterosexual couples using fertility treatments often don’t face.
These aren’t just bureaucratic hurdles. They send a message: your family doesn’t count the same way.
And once again, the Obergefell principle is being tested. If marriage equality truly means equal dignity, does that include equal recognition as parents from the moment a child is born? Or can states draw distinctions based on biology or tradition, even if they fall more heavily on LGBTQ+ families?
We’re likely to see more litigation on these issues in the coming years. How courts answer them will tell us whether Obergefell’s promise of equality extends beyond the altar.
Religious Liberty: The Coming Collision
The third arena is where LGBTQ+ rights meet religious liberty.
We’ve seen it play out in high-profile cases:
In Masterpiece Cakeshop (2018), the Court sided with a baker who declined to make a wedding cake for a same-sex couple, but emphasized that the state’s process had shown hostility toward his religious beliefs.
In Fulton v. City of Philadelphia (2021), the Court unanimously ruled in favor of a Catholic foster agency that refused to certify same-sex couples, finding that the city hadn’t applied its non-discrimination policy neutrally.
In Kim Davis’s case—a Kentucky county clerk who refused to issue marriage licenses to same-sex couples after Obergefell—courts wrestled with whether and how religious officials in public roles must comply with new constitutional rights.
In lawsuits involving therapists, healthcare providers, and religious colleges, courts have been asked whether individuals and institutions can claim faith-based exemptions from anti-discrimination rules.
What’s emerging isn’t a clean line but a patchwork. The Court has been reluctant to create a sweeping rule about when religious beliefs can override civil rights protections. Instead, it’s carved narrow paths that leave many questions unresolved.
One particularly fraught context is education. In Mahmoud v. Taylor, a diverse coalition of religious parents challenged a Maryland school district’s refusal to allow opt-outs from early elementary school lessons on gender and sexuality. The families argued that the materials carried a strong moral framing and that requiring their young children to celebrate the content without the ability to dissent or opt out violated their religious beliefs.
The case wasn’t about denying rights to LGBTQ+ individuals. It was about whether the state could require affirmation of certain values without any procedural accommodation for dissenting religious views. Still, the underlying tension is familiar: what happens when the dignity claims of one group come into direct conflict with the conscience claims of another?
What does it mean for the law to recognize dignity—and can it do so while also protecting deep disagreements?