"Mom always said, don't play ball in the house," so said Bobby to his brother Peter in The Brady Bunch.  In this episode, entitled "Confessions, Confessions," because they are sure that his camping trip will be canceled when he breaks his mother's favorite vase, Peter's siblings cover for him.  The young boy tries to absolve himself of his wrongdoing, and he allows others to take up the slack rather than doing the responsible, ethical, moral thing and own up to his obligations.

Now, I, Patrick Finnessy, have a confession of my own to make.  When the Board approved my hire, I was charged to work toward a safe and affirming environment for members of the University community.  My job description was clear.  As the Director of the Office of GLBT Concerns, I was to raise awareness of University non-discrimination policies, and I was to provide consultation about equitable application of such policies. 

On my first day, I was asked by a colleague when UIC would secure Domestic Partner benefits.  I checked into the history and found that the struggle has been going on for 10 years.  A day later, a woman whose partner had breast cancer called me.  She was distraught because, despite the fact that she was working two jobs and trying to attend to her partner, she was financially burdened because of the medications, medical care, and hospital visits.

It became clear to me that as an advocacy office, I was to be the voice of these people.  Personally, I do not have a domestic partner--and I could argue that this issue does not affect me.  Yet, I must confess.  It has.  It does.  It will.   Over two years later, I have met employees who have left the U of I system because we did not provide such benefits, and I have spoken to job candidates who have called me to inquire about our university environment.

Certainly, who we share our lives with--regardless of opposite-sex or same-sex arrangement--is one of the defining aspects of our existence which bring mortgage payments; arguments; meals; relaxation in front of the TV, burial decisions.  On issues of relationship, when we weigh the costs, we conclude that those we love are worth our investment. 

Yet, before we get swept away in Valentine sentiments, we recognize that our love, realistically, is tied to our work because our work is tied to our finances.  TVs, mortgages, food, burial plots cost money.  Why, though, as a public and secular institution, do we reward the love of a married couple--symbolically and financially--without validating and honoring the love of others who do not model the marriage institution for a myriad of legal, philosophical, and moral reasons?

Peter Brady was playing a game of ball in the house, and, what he broke was also the valued trust of those he cared about and who cared about him.  After ten years, we've earned the right to be direct:  it's time to stop playing games.  This is not a decision that should be left to Springfield, to a new governor, or to the unions.  This is a time for the University to be leaders--not followers--and adhere to its promise not to discriminate based on sexual orientation or marital status.  If the U of I will not acknowledge its discriminatory practices, it must stop referring to itself as a non-discriminatory institution and in its public statements, including employment ads, it must describe itself as it truly is:  a place that practices selective discrimination.

By the end of the episode, Peter Brady confessed.  He took it upon himself to realize that he needed to do what was honest, ethical, and appropriate.  He weighed the costs, and he concluded that those he loved were worth the investment.  The dividends?  Honor.  Integrity.  Justice.  We ask that those we have devoted our lives to---not in our homes but in our place of employment---give us the same respect.

THANK YOU.