Iowa!

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The Iowa Supreme Court ruled today that the state law excluding same-sex couples from marriage denies them equal protection. I've just read the opinion, and have a couple of preliminary thoughts.

This is the first opinion that has upheld gay marriage unanimously. All of the other state court opinions, from Hawaii in 1993 through California have been divided.

The opinion is a careful exercise in logic. It is easy for judges to get carried away with grand pronouncements and inflated rhetoric for the ages. Most issues that come before even state supreme courts tend to be mundane legal matters, and whatever can be said of same-sex marriage, it is not mundane - nor will the opinion go unnoticed. For the most part, the Iowa decision avoids the temptation to get stagey and grand, and that is welcome.

The core of the decision rests on this single paragraph, which sums up the reasoning lesbians and gay men have been offering for decades now:

"Viewed in the complete context of marriage, including intimacy, civil marriage with a person of the opposite sex is as unappealing to a gay or lesbian person as civil marriage with a person of the same sex is to a heterosexual. Thus, the right of a gay or lesbian person under the marriage statute to enter into a civil marriage only with a person of the opposite sex is no right at all."

This, of course, makes all the sense in the world to us, but the fact that it requires explaining to others shows why equal protection is a necessary constitutional protection.

We have come a long way since 1971, when the Minnesota Supreme Court decided, in a fourteen paragraph opinion, that no right to same-sex marriage could even be considered, because marriage is simply defined as a union between a man and a woman, period. Those brief paragraphs stand in start contrast to the 70 pages in this opinion, the 160 (including concurrences and dissents) of California, and the acres of paperage devoted to all of the other more recent cases on this issue.

From the unanimous rejection of our claims 28 years ago to today's unanimous acceptance of our arguments, this country (and, increasingly, the world) are seriously considering what marriage is, and what real reasons there might be for excluding same-sex couples from its legal obligations and protections. This opinion, like the others that have preceded it, will not end the discussion, either in Iowa or anyplace else. But the fact we are able to have the discussion now is tribute to a culture that is willing to think through its legal structures, and ask questions of itself.

The Iowa opinion not only asks those questions, but takes the time to think through the answers - and shows its work. You may agree or disagree, but unlike the first opinions on same-sex marriage, you have some reasoning to agree or disagree with. And for a group like gays where even today Don't Ask, Don't Tell is the law and practice in too many areas, this is progress.

***Correction***

I have had my arithmetic gently but firmly corrected in a Comment -- it's been 38 years since 1971, not 28. I'm leaving the original up to try and discipline myself.

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Hoops and Heresy

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I have been a bit conflicted lately. On one hand, I've been rooting for my Catholic alma mater, Villanova, in the NCAA men's basketball playoffs. On the other hand, I love the new condom wrappers featuring a picture of Pope Benedict XVI and the caption, "I said no!"

Pope Maledict, as Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger was dubbed by gay rights pioneer Frank Kameny after being elevated to the Chair of Saint Peter, provoked consternation among HIV/AIDS workers last month by denouncing condoms during a visit to Africa. But he was just being himself. In 1986 he wrote that those who engage in homosexual activity "annul the rich symbolism and meaning, not to mention the goals, of the Creator's sexual design" and thereby "confirm within themselves a disordered sexual inclination which is essentially self-indulgent."

It is not clear how the homosexual part of God's design annuls the heterosexual part, nor why gay lovemaking is any less giving than that of, say, an infertile straight couple. By contrast, Ratzinger for years protected the late Rev. Marcial Maciel Degollado, founder of the Legion of Christ, who was accused of sexually abusing seminarians.

The Church's weak grasp of reality was evident in its recent excommunication of Brazilian doctors who performed an abortion on a 9-year-old girl who had been raped by her stepfather. Her mother was also excommunicated, but not the rapist. The girl had become pregnant with twins, and doctors judged her pelvis unable to support their gestation. When a Church spokesman said, "Life must always be protected," he wasn't thinking of the girl. As controversy grew, however, the excommunication was overruled by a conference of Brazilian bishops, and the Vatican criticized the case's initial handling.

Ah, but I was taught not to throw out the baby with the bathwater; indeed I know many reform-minded clergy, some even calling for openness to women's participation in the priesthood. Scripture also retains its value despite selective and tendentious reading by churchmen who use it more for control than reflection. One of my favorite passages is Deuteronomy 8:3, "Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord." A variation occurs in Lorraine Hansberry's play A Raisin in the Sun when Beneatha's Nigerian suitor explains that his nickname for her, "Alaiyo," means "one for whom bread - food - is not enough."

We are creatures for whom bread is not enough. Our quest for meaning drives us to explore and innovate. In the process it makes heresy unavoidable. In a diverse society, one man's priest is another man's iconoclast.

On March 19, American University's Washington College of Law hosted a conference on marriage initiatives. One panelist was Helen Alvaré, a law professor from George Mason University and an advisor to Benedict's Pontifical Council for the Laity. She talked as if marriage-equality advocates sought to change an eternally unchanging institution. I pointed out that civil law already differs considerably from Church doctrine on marriage, and the marriage fight is about civil law. Unfortunately, despite Christ's admonition in Matthew 22:21 ("Render to Caesar that which is Caesar's, and to God that which is God's"), the Church habitually seeks to conflate church law and civil law, as in its opposition to decriminalizing homosexuality.

Despite the Church's pose of unchanging perfection, its early centuries actually saw popes who were the sons of popes, and priestly celibacy was not definitively imposed until 1139. As for the inviolate nature of the marriage institution, its limits were suggested by 18th Century French playwright Pierre Beaumarchais, whose Marriage of Figaro centers on Count Almaviva's intention to exercise "le droit du Seigneur," a tradition whereby a feudal lord was entitled to take the virginity of the women on his estate. Happily, the betrothed valet and chambermaid gain the help of the Countess in thwarting him. This lighthearted fiction hit close enough to home that it was banned for a time in the French court.

Frank Kameny believes that something old enough to be a tradition is old enough to be challenged. He said as much in 1978 during a gay rights debate I organized at Villanova. I honed my skills for intellectual challenge in my undergraduate years there. As the Wildcats prepare for the Final Four, I am glad that hoops get all the attention. If His Holiness knew what was going on in Villanova's science building, I am afraid he would rearrange his 15th Century vestments uncomfortably and cry, "Stop!"

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Dreher’s Conversation With No One

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Rod Dreher has two new posts about same-sex marriage here and here.

The first purports to answer the arguments of Damon Linker and Andrew Sullivan, but does not. In response to Linker's arguments, Dreher dismisses Linker's casual summation of their disagreements, and then goes into a lengthy critique of liberalism's hegemony in modern America. He then observes it's hard for conservative arguments against same-sex marriage to be taken seriously, and moves on. He does not mention, much less answer any of Linker's substantive arguments. With Sullivan, too, Dreher finds a snippet about the Pope objectionable, and defends orthodox religious thinking about moral authority. But again, he does not engage any of Andrew's arguments in favor of same-sex marriage and show why they are wrong. Instead, he repeats the trope that if we have same-sex marriage we're getting polygamy, too, and bemoans the fact that we keep talking past each other and getting all emotional.

His second post asks whether gay marriage will strengthen same-sex unions or undermine the concept of marriage - a binary formulation that leaves unexamined the possibility that it might strengthen same-sex unions and strengthen marriage as well; or leave marriage unchanged in the minds and relationships of most heterosexuals. He then returns to form (at least on this issue) by finding quotes from liberal stalwars like Matt Foreman, Joe Solomonese and Jenny Pizer, and linking to the bête noir of the right, the "manifesto" called "Beyond Same-Sex Marriage," which was recently cited by the American Law Institute. Again, Dreher doesn't man up to the best arguments being made in favor of same-sex marriage, focusing on liberal boogeymen who are much easier to refute. "Beyond Same-Sex Marriage" may not be the Protocols of the Elders of The Castro, but it's not anything that's ever driven the debate over same-sex marriage, and is far more popular as a whipping boy of the right than as an agenda for much of anyone.

I think this shows that, while several of us are very interested in engaging him in the debate, it is Dreher who is talking past us - or, more accurately, around us. There was plenty to respond to in both Linker's and Andrew's posts for anyone who wanted to engage the issue of same-sex marriage in a pluralistic democracy - which is the question. I, too, had a couple of what I think of as serious issues with Dreher's arguments that might be worth responding to.

Those were not the arguments Dreher chose to take on. If you want to have a discussion with someone, it's hardly polite to keep referring to someone else's arguments, and ignoring what the people you're supposed to be conversing with are saying.

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Transgender Day…and Gays

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March 31 is Transgender Day of Visibility. I'm supposed to participate in a panel that day. I'm a bit apprehensive.

Like many gay people, I tend to tiptoe around transgender issues. This surprises some straight people I know. They say, "But as a GLBT person yourself…"

But I'm not a GLBT person. I'm a G person. (Nobody is a GLBT person. You get two letters at most, and that's only if one of them is T.)

One of my earliest experiences with the transgender community involved an angry trans woman standing up after one of my lectures in the mid-90's.

"You've talked for an hour about gay and lesbian issues," she griped, "but you've said nothing about ME. An hour-long lecture and not a word about me."

I remember at the time not knowing quite how to respond. I figured she was referring to transgender issues, because I was pretty sure she was trans. She was about 6'2", and to put it bluntly, she had man-hands.

But I didn't want to say, "Oh, you're transgender." Because if I said, "Oh, you're transgender," I might come across as saying, "Oh, you're transgender…

"…and not very convincing at it."

Isn't it rude to guess? To me, it's like trying to figure out if someone you know is pregnant, or just getting fat. Better to wait until she brings it up.

Of course, sometimes waiting is not an option, such as when a person's gender presentation is ambiguous and you need to refer to "him" or "her." You can only switch to the plural "they" for so long before it becomes obvious that you're avoiding gendered pronouns. I actually had this problem once with a student, whose name was as gender-ambiguous as [his? her? their?] clothing. Turns out she was a MTF who deliberately skated the line as "genderqueer"-something I discovered only when other students filled me in. But absent such informants, how does one politely ask?

Regarding my angry questioner, though, I had no such doubts-just doubts about how to respond to her "nothing about me" complaint.

At the time, I think I said something like "I don't know you, so how can I talk about you?" That was a reasonable answer then. But what about now?

The truth is I still hardly ever talk or write about transgender issues. That's partly because I'm no expert on them. There are only so many minutes in an hour (or lines in a column), and you can't cover everything.

But to be frank, it's also partly because I'm nervous about offending people whom society has already hurt enough. It's a touchy subject, and like many touchy subjects, it's often easier for those of us without a direct stake in it simply to avoid it.

And that's probably as good a reason for Transgender Day of Visibility as any. Our discomfort around the issue-I know I'm not alone in this-means that we've got some learning to do. Bravo to those trans people willing to come out and teach us.

Some gay people wonder why we get lumped with the transgender community at all. Sexual orientation is one thing, they say, and gender identity is another.

That's true as far as it goes, and perhaps it's better to talk about our overlapping communitieS than about a single GLBT community.

Still, the alliance makes sense insofar as both (overlapping) groups suffer from rigid social expectations about sex and gender. Compare "If you're born biologically male, you should grow up to be a man" with "If you're born biologically male, you should grow up to love a woman." The similarities between the two inferences seem to outweigh the differences.

Then there are those who question whether linking GLB to T might slow down GLB political progress, insofar as society has a harder time with trans issues than sexual- orientation issues.

Even if you find those who raise such questions insensitive, it's hard to argue that they're being irrational. In general, society does have a harder time with trans people than gay, lesbian, or bisexual people, which is one reason why the trans community needs and deserves our support.

The bottom line is that there are a lot of us who could benefit from frank and open dialogue about all of these issues. Transgender Day of Visibility is an important step in that direction, and gays-and everyone else-should support it.

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Pay for Performance?

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The Washington Blade's annual look at compensation paid to, as they term it, "leaders of the LGBT rights movement," is always an interesting read. But the real issue isn't just the level of pay; I agree that, in general, CEOs of nonprofits should earn what the competitive market deems is fair. The broader, and far more important question, is the same one that's being asked of private-sector CEOs these days - does the level of their individual performance this past year still entitle them to receive what would otherwise by deemed fair compensation for their positions? Or should there by some "clawback" (i.e., recouping promised compensation in light of poor performance) for these executives as well?

Given the devastatingly bad leadership shown on the part of some, particularly as regards the debacle of California's Proposition 8, a campaign mismanaged to an extraordinary degree, should Lorri Jean of the LA Center still be getting $327,000? (The Advocate, in its "Anatomy of a Failed Campaign," called her one of "the small clique of California LGBT leaders" who were in charge of directing, or misdirecting, opposition to the initative.) Should Joe Solmonese, under whose management the bulk of HRC's efforts went to getting out the vote for Obama instead of fighting the three statewide anti-gay marriage initiatives that were passed, be receiving $338,400? Or would it be more just to direct their way some of the same outrage over the bonuses being paid to executives who ran their companies into the ground?

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Straight Debate

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An excellent and enlightening discussion has broken out over gay marriage between Rod Dreher at Beliefnet and Damon Linker at TNR. (In order, the posts are here, here, here, here, and here) Andrew Sullivan weighs in at length, and does a lot of the heavy lifting to add a gay perspective to the discussion. There are only three additional points I want to add.

First, and most obviously (and therefore most in need of being pointed out) this is a debate between two heterosexual men about gay equality. That, by itself, is important. Women have historically been more comfortable discussing homosexuality than straight men, but that seems to be changing for the better. Some of the debate focuses on Linker's characterization of Dreher as having a "fixation" on homosexuality. This is unfortunate because it is a distraction about a personal and subjective matter. I am happy to set aside that issue and accept that Dreher simply wants to engage the debate, and good for him. However, it is certainly worth noting, as Dreher does on his two primary posts, that (whatever his own feelings) his comments section heats up whenever he mentions "anything related to homosexuality." Why does Dreher need to warn his commenters (in bold): "Please watch how you discuss and debate this topic in the comboxes." That's not Dreher's "fixation,' but it's certainly not unusual, and if it doesn't make Linker's point, it makes some point worth thinking about.

Second, Dreher makes a not uncommon argument that gay supporters are being unfair to opponents:

"By casting the ordinary defense of normative Christian doctrine about homosexual relations as though it were a sort of mental illness, the pro-SSM side engages the issue not in a fair-minded discussion and debate about legitimate issues related to gay marriage and the normalization of homosexuality in our society, but as an ideological war to be won by any means necessary. Any critique of the pro-SSM side is to be treated as a sign of pathology."

This language should ring a bell for those of us who are gay, something heterosexuals might miss. In fact, for many decades, homosexuality was not just a rhetorical "sort of mental illness" or a mere "sign of pathology," it was mental illness and pathology itself. Lesbians and gay men were put in actual mental institutions, were subjected to forced "cures" for their disease. When those who argue against gay equality are subject to that kind of action, Dreher's complaint will ring a little less ironically - and a little less hollow.

Finally, Dreher makes the point that:

"This stuff matters. It matters a lot. If you are a gay person, you know how much it matters to you. Why should anybody be surprised that it matters to traditional Christians, and for reasons that go far beyond any supposed anti-gay animus?"

There is, of course, a difference between how this matters to gay people and how it matters to traditional Christians. It matters to gay people because the secular law treats us differently - provides us both fewer rights and in many cases, none at all for our relationships - than heterosexuals take for granted. It matters to traditional Christians, not because they are denied anything, but because civil equality is a different rule than their sacred texts seem to support. There is, of course, dispute even among Christians about that, which is why Dreher has to qualify "Christian." But even if this view of scripture were universal, or (as in the Catholic hierarchy), authoritatively defined by a single leader, Americans live in a pluralistic nation of motley religious and irreligious views. Traditional Christians have every right to make whatever case they believe, but have to know that arguments from religious authority will only go so far in a debate about the civil law.

It is the collapse of the secular arguments against gay equality, one by one, that has left religious arguments standing alone. The fact that "traditional" Christians have to identify themselves now reveals they are appealing, not to "religion," but to a particular approach to religion that is, itself, part of America's religious pluralism. After all, Dreher first weighed in on this issue in response to a post at Andrew Sullivan's site about how a gay man's reference to his husband at their Catholic parish was accepted as unremarkable.

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The Laughing Cure

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University of Chicago students recently showed us how protests against hate should be done.

When the Westboro Baptist Church - the cult-like organization led by Fred Phelps - trooped to campus to declare Obama the anti-Christ (he taught at the law school), they were carrying their usual array of hateful signs. These, of course, included the slogan that seems to be their favorite: God Hates Fags.

Now, there's no arguing with Fred Phelps or his family. People have tried various tactics - yelling back; talking respectfully; being aggressively friendly and saying things like, "God loves me, but God bless you!"; singing songs like "We Shall Overcome"; and, one of my favorites, standing in front of them with giant angel wings so that no one can see their rabid posturing. When the Westboro Church came to Harvard, for example, signs said "Cambridge Pride," and "Jesus loves me, this I know - for God made me so."

But Chicago students tried something else. Making fun of the Phelpses.

When the Phelps family arrived, they were greeted with a party. Students roasted 'smores. There were dance and music performances. Best of all, students carried signs their own signs. But instead of saying things like, "We're Here, We're Queer," or "No More Hate," they poked smart fun. "God Hates Figs," some posters and handouts said (and they included real Biblical references to prove their point); "God hates the new Facebook," said another. And my favorite: "Cthulhu hates chordates."

This is very U of C. I worked at the university for years, and I was always struck by their wry approach to fun. Other colleges have drunken galas; Chicago has a scavenger hunt that includes math problems and classical references.

When I heard about the Chicago protest - and saw pictures that included faculty and staff members I worked with - I was very proud.

Especially since Chicago is not Berkely. It is one of America's more conservative Universities, even among the undergraduate population.

Mocking hate has a long history in the gay community. Camp, drag queens, the radical cheerleaders, and the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence are all ways that we have fought back against our own oppression using sly humor.

What makes this new is that it wasn't just gay and lesbian students who were protesting - it was the entire campus. It was straight students. Better, it included straight fraternity boys. One frat hung a banner declaring "Straight Huggin" - and half-naked men danced outside to the song "I'm Coming Out."

The message: People who hate gays are ridiculous.

Chicago was shaming the Phelps family.

And this marks a sea change.

It used to be that gays and lesbians were shamed for being homosexual. Now, straight people who actively and loudly detest gays and lesbians are being shamed as being narrow-minded and socially inappropriate.

We saw this with the backlash over the Proposition 8 vote, when there were boycotts against businesses that had given money to the campaign to ban gay marriage. It was interesting to me that we didn't hear boycotts against businesses who supported gay marriage.

This new shaming of the anti-gay right doesn't mean that we will get everything we want. It will still be a fight to overturn the gay military ban. It will be a fight to keep gay Americans and their foreign partners together. It will be a fight to allow gay men to give blood, and to keep employers from firing employees because they are gay - and most of all, it will be a fight to get the next state to give gay marriage a chance.

But it's one more sign of profound cultural change. And we can thank the University of Chicago for that.

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Come out, come out. . . except the homosexuals — you guys stay in

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The U.S. Census is gearing up a monumental effort to make sure minorities are counted in 2010.

But that effort will not apply to homosexuals. As I argued in The Pretenders, the Census folks, far from seeking us out, are doing all they can to make sure we are not counted -- at least not our married couples.

And that is a very clear public policy choice. The government wants, very much, to know how many racial and ethnic minority members we have, so it can make sure their concerns are being addressed. But the government does not want to know how many same-sex couples there are, which frustrates the ability to have our concerns addressed.

The Census is a very good way of discerning what the government wants to know, and what the government wants to keep hidden. And it is up to us to keep asking why they have an interest in keeping the number of our publicly acknowledged relationships invisible.

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Conscientious objections

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When Jonathan says the Brookings Institution panel was A Great Debate, he isn't kidding. Jon and David Blankenhorn articulated the philosophical change in style they are aiming for: a discussion that pits two good things against one another (in Blankenhorn's words) rather than one about bigots against perverts (Jon).

If that were all that was said, the debate would have been worth everyone's time.

But another theme emerged, and it will be the crux of the political problem if the compromise gets any takers -- as I hope it will. In order to get the federal government to accept state laws recognizing same-sex couples, states would have to enact robust religious conscience laws making clear that religious organizations would be protected against lawsuits forcing them to recognize same-sex relationships.

But "conscience" is not an organizational attribute, it is a personal one, and the compromise would apparently have to stretch far enough to reach individuals. Everyone agrees the government may not intrude in the sacramental role of religious organizations, but what about religious individuals who function in the civil realm? They claim that their religious beliefs against same-sex marriage would prohibit them from performing their non-religious duties, and want protection for that as well - and the way I read the compromise, it would also include protection for these individuals.

This is where the compromise becomes most pointed. Justices of the Peace work for the state, not the church, yet some have refused to issue licenses to same-sex couples because they have religious objections. In the debate, Professor Robin Wilson discussed the dilemma when a same-sex couple faces a civil servant who refuses to perform the civil ceremony prescribed by the state. There are normally other JPs available, and as with some pharmacists who refuse to perform their job of dispensing contraceptives for religious reasons, as long as the customers are served by someone, all needs can be met - though participants on both sides will have been forced to face, for a bit, the other side's arguments and sensitivities.

But it's important to remember that this accommodation is not a constitutional matter. The constitution does not require states to go this far in accommodating individual religious beliefs. That was established in a 1990 Supreme Court decision, Employment Division v. Smith, which upheld a state law that criminalized drug use, and a prosecution of Native Americans who ingested peyote in a religious practice. If the constitution required a general religious exemption from laws that are generally applicable to everyone, the court reasoned, then each religious believer could become a law unto himself, with a personal veto over any legal obligations he determined were offensive.

The opinion was written by Justice Antonin Scalia, an energetic proponent of religious freedom as a constitutional right, but also a man who's savvy to how people can abuse the courts.

If states have to accommodate even individual religious beliefs against gay marriage, we will need to be wary of the same sort of abuse Scalia was concerned with in Smith. But that is no reason not to try.

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Why Only Two?

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Recent discussions of various civil-union proposals have revived some familiar questions, including "Why limit such recognition to couples, as opposed to larger groups?" and "Why limit it to romantic/sexual couples, as opposed to other interdependent relationships?"

Such questions come from various quarters, including both friends and foes of marriage equality. Although they're sometimes offered as "gotcha" challenges, they deserve serious reflection.

I was mulling them over recently when two events occurred that hinted at an answer.

The first was a phone call from my home-security monitoring company about a false alarm I triggered with smoke from a minor kitchen disaster.

"While we have you on the phone," the operator suggested, "can we update your emergency numbers?"

"Sure," I said, remembering that some of my listed neighbors had eliminated their land lines.

After going through the numbers, she said, "So, you've given me your community patrol number, and numbers for Scott, Sarah, and Mike-all neighbors. But this Mark person-what's your relationship to him?"

"He's my partner."

"Um, roommate?"

"No," I replied, "partner."

"I don't have a box for 'partner,'" she retorted. "I have a box for 'roommate.'"

"Fine," I said, "roommate." Then I hastily hung up and returned to the kitchen, since I didn't want my "roommate" to come home to a burned dinner. (Later, I regretted not asking for, and insisting on, the box for "husband.")

The second event occurred not long afterward, when my high school called asking for a donation for their "Torch Fund" endowment.

Some background: I attended Chaminade, an all-boys Catholic prep school on Long Island. For years I notified them of my various milestones for their newsletter, and for years they declined to publish anything gay-related-publications, awards, whatever-despite their regular listings of the most insipid details of my classmates' lives.

So now, whenever they ask me for money, I politely tell them where they can stick their Torch. I did so again this time.

"I understand," the caller replied. "But while I have you on the phone, let me update your records…"

Here we go again, I thought.

Eventually she came to, "Any update in your marital status? Can we list a spouse?"

"Well, you CAN," I responded testily, "but I suspect you won't. My spouse's name is Mark."

"Why not?" she replied, seeming unfazed. "And his last name?"

I doubt his listing will stand long. But what interested me was this: here was someone representing my conservative high school, and she had a box-in her mind, anyway-for my same-sex spouse.

For all I know, she might be a paid solicitor with no other connection to the school. But she illustrates a significant cultural shift toward recognizing the reality of gay and lesbian lives.

The reality is this: like our straight counterparts, we tend to fall in love, pair off and settle down. It's not for everyone, but it's a significant enough pattern to merit acknowledgement.

And that's at least the germ of an answer to the questions raised above.

Why do we give special legal recognition to romantic pair-bonds? We do so because they're a significant-and very common-human category, for straights and gays alike. They benefit individuals and society in palpable ways-ways that, on average, "roommates" and most other groupings can't match.

To put it simply, we recognize them because it makes sense for the law to recognize common and valuable ways that people organize their lives.

Of course, there are other significant human relationships. Some of these, like blood ties, the law already acknowledges. Others (like polygamy) pose serious social costs.

Still others may deserve more legal recognition than they currently receive, or may be dealt with on a case-by-case basis. (I doubt that we need to change marriage or civil-union law to accommodate unrelated cohabitating spinsters, for example.)

But none of these other unrecognized relationships holds a candle to same-sex pair-bonds when it comes to widespread mismatch between the social reality and the legal recognition.

Which brings me back to Mark. Mark is not just some dude I share expenses with. He's the person I've committed my life to, for better or for worse, 'til death do us part. We exchanged such vows publicly, although the law still views us as strangers.

In short, he is-whether the law or our home-security company recognizes it-my spouse.

We fall in love, we pair off, we build lives together. The law may be a blunt instrument, but it need not be so blunt as to call that "roommates."

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