Article from Huffington Post:


There is nothing wrong with the term, “husband.” However, there is everything wrong with the concept. Throughout the history of humankind, the words “husband” and “wife” have been used in the legal marriage of a man and a woman. Now, don’t get your knickers in a twist, this isn’t one of those Anti-Gay Marriage posts… bear with me.

This term was one of ownership. Throughout history, a husband owned his wife. Now, being two men ,  we escape this reality, right? Surely, these social standards are not presented upon the bonding of two presumably white males. (I say presumably because I’m Native American, but as my doctor would tell you ,  I don’t get enough sun. What she means is I get no sun.)

Well, guess what, you’re wrong. We are not excluded from the binding of social terms and the society’s baring of them. This is the complex answer of why I want people to stop asking why I say, “my partner,” and not “my husband.” Because I am not his husband, nor is he mine. We are not in ownership of one another. Neither of us “wears the pants” in the family. I am not his “man-wife” or whatever crazy analytic bullshit heterosexual people have cooked up for us.

But it goes deeper than that.

A husband and a wife often have a dynamic  ― one of which we do not fit. Now, there are a lot of modern hetero couples who share in the wonderful world that my partner and I do. You know that world… the one where you and your significant other actively share in each other’s lives rather than melding into one uni-person where everyone starts referring to you as “You,” instead of “you two.”

There is this weird dynamic that still exists where the husband brings home the bacon, and his dutiful wife does the dishes, and mops the floors. If that’s for you, great, but it’s not MY reality.

I am all for the happy family, I fully support you doing whatever is right for you. Just please support me in being... not that.

My partner and I are a team, first and foremost. He supports me in my endeavors, he helps me out with my disability, we both take care of chores, we both cook, we both bring home the bacon  —  and hell, sometimes we bring it home as a joint effort. We are the gears inside a clock and our love is the oil, and we will continue to tick and tock and enjoy our union together.

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