Alright, here's a long thread. This will get ugly and uncomfortable, as I'm going to be talking about my own experience with institutional LGBTQ discrimination as it relates to the death of my mate, so I'll understand if you mute this because you can't handle it right (1/17)

now. So, Steele was a registered organ donor, and had been for most of his life. We discussed it once or twice, as I was registered too, but we never really talked about it beyond just being aware of each other's wishes. Fast-forward to 2016. After a long fight with (2/17)

cancer and a very sudden downturn, Steele died on January 6th at about 2 in the morning. I'd barely gotten into bed before I got the call and had to go back to the hospital. What followed is a blur, with periods of tense calm, punctuated by whirlwinds of activity and (3/17)

paperwork as different administrative parts of the hospital came online for the day. The last of those happened when the Organ Donation Department opened, and the Organ Donation Coordinator approached me. Naturally, because of the cancer, they couldn't really use most (4/17)

of his organs; the risk of transplanting cancer cells into another patient was too great. BUT, he could still donate his corneas. The ODC launched into her spiel about his legacy and how he'd be saving someone's sight, and so on and so forth. I suspect she gets a lot (5/17)

of rejection from grieving families, and I know how squicked people get about eyes. I let her finish, and naturally I said yes. She was elated, and honestly, I was too. So, we went to her office, sat down at her desk, and started going through the paperwork. That's (6/17)

when she asked what my relation to Steele was. I told her that he was my registered domestic partner, and her response was a surprised "Oh!" followed by a much more somber "Oh...." That's where everything changed. She clarified, asking if he and I were a couple, and I (7/17)

said yes. Then, she went on to explain that, because we were gay, the same regulations that prevent us from donating blood also restrict organ donations. I had been up for nearly 24 hours at this point, and the week leading up to this was absolute hell with Steele's (8/17)

suddenly failing health, so I was pretty numb and emotionally burned-out. But, up to that point, there was a glimmer of something good- the hope that something positive could come out of all this. And then it was snuffed out. It felt... it’s hard to describe how it (9/17)

felt. It felt like being punched in the gut. It felt like being betrayed by your best friend. It felt like watching something your poured your heart and soul into get destroyed without a thought.... It felt like losing him all over again. I'd never been on the (10/17)

receiving end of discrimination before. Not like this; not directly. It's amazing just how much something like this makes you feel like you're a lesser person. And to be clear, I don't fault the Organ Donation Coordinator herself; she seemed genuinely upset and sorry. (11/17)

This was bureaucratic, institutional discrimination, totally impersonal. There's no bigot to shout down, nowhere to direct your anger, and it leaves you feeling utterly powerless. It's a horrible feeling, and it kills me to think of the families of the victims of (12/17)

disasters and shootings who have to go through the same thing. But, more than that, it was as though Steele was suddenly declared worthless and unworthy; as though someone said, "This can be his legacy, restoring the miracle of sight! The cancer didn't affect his eyes, (13/17)

so it's no problem. Oh, wait, he was gay? Oops, sorry, nevermind. Not interested." The rest of us can stand up for ourselves and speak out in the face of this, but Steele was dead, and I was so exhausted it was all I could do to keep from breaking down in tears in (14/17)

her office. But, I kept it together, we said our goodbyes, and shortly after, I went home. Then, I broke down.... So, now you know why I get so bent out of shape when the topic of blood or organ donation comes up. People shriek, "Go donate! Save a life!" Sorry, I (15/17)

can't. Because I'm gay, my blood and organs are tainted by sin, unwanted and unworthy. Sure, I could just lie, and I know a lot of people do, but I won't. That would be like cramming myself back into the closet, and that's just not going to happen. I think it says (16/17)

something about our society when being gay is a bigger barrier to blood or organ donation than CANCER. So, until that changes, the FDA and Red Cross can kindly fuck off. (end) (17/17)