Living in a world surrounded by homophobia in the 1980s, I learned early on that it is better to enter by the side door rather than bust down the front door. I have been in my current job for 36 years. I was impressed by the fact that this fledgling non-profit society stood for all the ideals that I held dear. They promoted equal rights for all. Of course they meant that for their developmentally disabled children. I felt, well, by my interpretation I too am part of that “all.”
I found out that the board was mostly Christians, and most of them were very devout. I had decided not to lie about my orientation, but I wouldn’t volunteer information either. The organization was quite small then but quickly grew. The director was very appreciative of my dedication. There were several times when he seemed to be opening the door for me to come out. However, he had never shared anything about his personal life. I knew from other employees he was married and had children. So I just didn’t respond. I heard from his assistant one time that he said to her, “What the hang is this guy? I thought he was straight, then I was quite sure he was gay. Just the other day he introduced me to his 17-year-old daughter! What do you think?”
“I think it’s none of our business. He is one of your best employees, so I say stay out of his business,” she replied.
A few years in, my assistant came out to me as being HIV positive. I was concerned about how the religious families or the HR department would handle this. I thought about that side door. This was the 1980s. The AIDS crisis was at its peak. In a coordinators’ meeting with some family members present, I suggested we have an in-service from AIDS Vancouver so we could better understand how AIDS might affect our employees. The director was quick to point out that the answer was obvious. A person with a communicable disease could not work in this environment.
I responded, “That is precisely why we need an in-service. HIV is transmitted through sexual activity and needles, which of course our staff would not be participating in. But I was thinking of your children. Most have been institutionalized for 15 or 16 years. We know that sexual abuse had, unfortunately, been fairly common. What if one of your children tested positive for HIV and their support staff chose not to work with them?”
The in-service came.
A few years later, I put on the agenda for our coordinators’ meeting a question about same-sex benefits for our employees. The answer was quick. “Our carrier would not offer that coverage.” I asked if they could formally get a response and bring it to our next meeting in a month. Our carrier’s reply came with a flat, “No, not at this time.”
I had learned a lot from the family members who had advocated for the rights for their disabled children. Next meeting, I suggested that we send yet another letter to our carrier, this time reminding them that ICBC had been offering same-sex benefits for five years already, asking them why our 350+ employees were not covered, and stating that we might consult with them as to how we could offer this support. It was a very slow, aggravating process but about six months later we had our benefits. This was, of course, not a one-man show. Most of our employees were totally behind the request and we had some strong representatives in our management team.
One of my staff worked part-time while earning his law degree. Our agency was upgrading their policies and procedures just as he became a practising lawyer. He was a totally out, very personable, six-foot-two blond dynamo. I suggested that since he knew our agency, he could present a seminar on respect in the workplace. This would address legal issues around harassment and discrimination on the basis of gender, sexual orientation, race, religion, etc. He did a brilliant presentation that was very balanced. Some board members and some supervisors were squirming, but it was all in line with our labour laws. Many of us breathed a little easier.
In 1997, my partner passed away. I went right back to work without any time off. My first day back, I got a call from the director of employee services. She said she had heard my partner had passed and offered her condolences. Then she said, “You know you are entitled to at least three days of bereavement leave. Why don’t you use it? Take the rest of the week off.”
When I got home that night, there was a beautiful bouquet of flowers outside my condo door. It had a card that was signed by all 11 staff from the administration office, many with touching thoughts below their names.
I was fortunate to meet a very special man four years later and we have been together now for 17 years. He has attended all of the society celebrations with me. Two years ago at an awards ceremony where I was a recipient, we sat at one of the many large tables. My partner sat across the table and was talking to the father of one of my residents. A woman sat beside me: Mrs. Dawson! She was without a doubt the most staunch Christian on the board. We chatted a bit, then she asked me who the handsome man across the table was. I said, “My partner.”
“Really, how long have you been together?”
“Fifteen years.”
“That is amazing! I would say it looks like you are two very fortunate men.”
