There’s a lot of noise about Marriage Equality and anyone who’s seen my Facebook news feed, profile, status updates or comments knows exactly where I stand. But a memory I’ve repressed for four years just came flooding back and I want to share it. It highlights how “Gay” Marriage isn’t just about State-sanctioned butt-poking. But about human rights. Scratch that. Human Dignity.

In 2005 my mother was diagnosed with end stage lung cancer and had a very short time to live. My partner of (at the time) 7 years Mark Flesher accompanied me home to Oklahoma to visit with her and Dad for what we hoped was to be the first of many “final” trips. When we arrived she was sicker than she or Dad had let on over the phone and it became clear we would be there until her death.

After three truly indescribable weeks of being with her and Dad, caring for her, dealing with hospice, watching her wilt away and all the while being accommodating to an endless stream of her parishioners (she was a Methodist pastor) we were extremely sad and dually relieved when she passed away.

The following day at the Funeral Home the director asked us, among many other questions, how we wanted the obituary worded. We wanted the surviving family members - my brother Joe and his wife Melanie, my brother James, my father Jess, my partner Mark and myself - to all be mentioned merely as “her family.” The funeral director was very nervous about the family dynamic (this is a rural town in Oklahoma, mind you) but at the same time 100% participatory. But when it came time to publish the obituary there was a snag.

The local newspaper called and refused to publish Mark Flesher’s name in my mother’s obituary because he “wasn’t family.” We protested, of course, because he was. He is. The man my Mother loved like a son wasn’t her family? The man my Mother’s small town and supposedly small-minded congregation astonishingly welcomed (mostly) with open arms every time we visited together wasn’t family? The man I will love forever wasn’t family?

The newspaper wouldn’t relent.

Sorry. Against policy.

The only way we could get Mom’s obituary published the way the entire family wanted was to pay a $75 fee. THEY MADE US PAY THEM MONEY TO PRINT MY MOTHER’S OBITUARY WITH MY PARTNER’S NAME IN IT. We had been and still were going through the most gut-wrenching experience ever. Our days were spent in tears. And we had to deal with this kind of bullshit.

Sorry. Policy.

A thousand - literally, a thousand things you will never think of are not only denied people like me on a daily basis, but stand in the way of our lives, our liberty and the pursuit of our happiness. At the best of times and the worst of times there are reminders both small and enormous that we are considered less than. Unequal. Unworthy. And I’m fucking sick of it. You should be too.

Mark and I celebrate 11 years together this month.

We’ve been engaged for four years.

We’re still waiting to marry.

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