by Amy Hayden

The 2000 U.S. Census Bureau reports that there are 9.7 million Americans living with an unmarried different sex partner. Some of us cohabitors have been shacked up for a while, have children (or don't), have made lifelong commitments, magnanimously share the toothpaste with our "significant others" and generally like (and love) the person we're with but have no desire--legal, religious, cultural, or otherwise--to tie the proverbial knot.

It doesn't take a Ph.D. to realize that we "living in sin" types- don't get much respect from a government whose President has rubber-stamped $1.5 billion in money to make marriage more attractive to those different-sex couples who currently eschew the "getting hitched" process, and which has made lots of noise about eliminating the so-called "marriage penalty" from the income tax code to reward those who take their vows. At the same time, Dubya supports changing the constitution to keep marriage "sacred," or "safe" from same-sex couples.

Despite all the pro-family, pro-marriage talk coming out of the White House since George W. Bush took office, for many unmarried, different-sex couples with the legal opportunity (read: "moral" obligation?) to marry--especially those with children--it might be accurate to say that we get worse treatment from the government and society at large than many single people. Mostly this takes the form of condescension or pity; I remember being in a county office when my younger son was a few months old and having a social worker tsk-tsk at me when I told her I didn't believe in marriage. More than once I've had my opposition to "marriage as an institution" belittled by some of the more intelligent people I encounter, including professors of mine at a progressive institution of higher learning.

And so I've come up with a list of things that governmental institutions--ranging from the White House to public institutions in my community--could do to make things a little easier for me, my partner, our two children, and (indirectly) our two cats and a dog.

1. Education. I'm tired of being called "Mrs." at school meetings, village hall, the library, Boy Scouts, and any other place I go with children and partner in tow. We have programs that guard against racism, sexism, heterosexism, etc. -- why not educate people about the existence of loving couples who don't fit into "traditional" notions of what families should be like? Stop treating us like we're a science experiment, like no one else you've ever encountered--at the library, the WIC office, the county building--has ever engaged in the "love + kids - marriage = being OK" process.

2. Money. I know Dubya has that $1.5 billion earmarked for encouraging marriage; why not some for those same and different-sex partners who have shown they're holding down the fort and don't need a ring or a piece of paper to prove it?

3. Respect. I'm tired of government employees feeling sorry for me, assuming I'm a person of loose morals, or lecturing me for being supposedly lax about birth control. Yes, my children were planned. No, I still don't want to get married.

4. Something official. I don't much agree with the offering of "domestic partnerships" as some sort of bone to throw LGBT people frustrated with the lack of marriage possibilities. But there is something to the idea that everyone should be able to easily and readily enter into some kind of legal agreement--presumably centered around children and property--that has absolutely nothing to do with marriage. How hard could it possibly be to set something like this up?

5. Less bureaucracy. When you're not married, there's a lot more garbage to put up with. Try having a baby "out of wedlock" in the city of Chicago -- I did, and (of course) my partner's name couldn't automatically be put on the birth certificate. We both had to sign an affidavit, and then I had to sign even more idiotic papers, to show we were serious about the paternity thing. Then we had to wait to make sure the affidavits had been "accepted" before hearing whether my partner's name would be on the birth certificate. Why all of this was necessary, I have no clue.

It all really boils down to respect, fair treatment, and being seen as more than a marital status. Yet many people still don't get it -- my seven-year-old son wonders why we're not married like the parents of "other kids", and I suspect he gets teased a bit about our different last names. Nearly once a month I get phone calls from the city, the school district, some county office, or some other governmentally related institution asking for the "Mrs." of the house, and it never fails to baffle when I inform them that there is no such person in existence. I imagine I'm not alone in waiting for the day when such a revelation doesn't confuse the issue, but instead serves as a reminder and mark that relationships come in all forms, and marriage need not be the form of choice for a relationship to work, or to work well.

Amy Hayden lives in the Chicago suburbs with her partner and two children, attends graduate school at the University of Illinois at Chicago, and spends as much time as possible confounding people with her status as an unmarried-but-not-single mother. She is currently ambivalent about homeschooling, renegade suburban life, moving to Canada, and cleaning out the attic.

Opinions expressed are those of the author, and do not necessarily represent the views of the Alternatives to Marriage Project.