The ties that bind: Waco couple has spent the past 8 years committed to the ups and downs of a controversial relationship
By Katherine Heine, Cox News Service
Sunday, November 06, 2005
The honeymoon period is over. Both have put on at least 30 pounds in
the past eight years from Sam's ground beef vermicelli with tomatoes.
They spend their days fussing with the rose garden and playing with
cats Q-tip and Harley. At night they pray to God before dinner, then
plop down on the couch to watch the news or "Desperate Housewives."
Stacy Beasley and Sam Ochoa Jr.'s union has followed the classic
pattern of ups and downs through richer and poorer, sickness and
health. The Gholson couple have shared vacations and sunsets along with
debt and cancer. Friends call them Bob and Jane Smith to poke fun at
their domesticity, but their relationship is anything but traditional.
Both wore tuxes to their purple-themed union ceremony in Dallas.
Video:
Ian and Catherine Moore with daughter Sophie, 2. The couple say living
together before their marriage strengthened their relationship. (Duane A. LavertyWaco Tribune Herald)
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Now that Beasley is battling the complications of full-blown AIDS, the
two men say they rely on each other more than ever as they confront
stereotypes and disease against the backdrop of conservative Central
Texas.
"I tried to do what society expected, and I got married. I have no
regrets because my son is the best thing that happened to me, but I
couldn't live a lie," says Ochoa, a University High School graduate. "I
am not going to say this has been an easy journey for either of us, but
I feel whole when we are together. He is the first person I see when I
wake up in the morning and the last person I talk to before I go to bed
at night."
Beasley and Ochoa are among the nearly 22,000 cohabiting same-sex
couples in Texas, according to 2000 U.S. Census Bureau data. The
Lesbian/Gay Rights Lobby of Texas estimates there are upwards of
43,000 such couples in the state. Only California, New York and Florida
have more homosexual couples, according to the census.
The two met nearly nine years ago at a Dallas bar: Ochoa, a country
boy from Waco, and Beasley, a computer whiz from the Dallas/Fort Worth
Metroplex. Both remember being hesitant to instigate a relationship,
but neither could deny the instant attraction nor the level of comfort
they felt when they were together.
"We are an odd pair for sure, and I actually avoided him at first
because I knew he was marriage material. It's scary when you realize
you want to be with someone for the rest of your life," says Ochoa, who
is one of millions gay parents in the United States.
"It didn't help
that we are both men and by nature have a hard time communicating and
recognizing our feelings."
Five months after they met, the two exchanged vows in front of
friends, family and God. The cowboy-themed ceremony was peppered with
flamboyance: Drag queens lined up as groomsmen and flower girls walked
down the aisle throwing condoms to promote safe sex.
Two months later, life dealt the couple a devastating blow: Beasley
was diagnosed with AIDS in 1997 at age 29, five years after he came
out. His subsequent bouts with stomach cancer and kidney failure have
kept the two in and out of hospitals for most of their relationship.
But he has turned his anger and fear into action by organizing the
Heart of Texas HIV/AIDS support group in October. The online forum
provides an outlet for people with the disease and their families.
"I had just found the glass slipper and it fit, and now this. I didn't
actually break down until I told Sam that night on the phone," Beasley
says. "I was so afraid that he would leave me over it, but he was very
calming and told me that it didn't matter, that he loved me for me and
no disease would change his feelings for me, and they haven't."
The 48-year-old Ochoa has his own health problems. He was diagnosed
with heart failure and cirrhosis of the liver in 1992, but has remained
HIV negative. He is tested for the immunodeficiency virus every six
months. The two now stay at home living on disability payments.
Their families have taken the relationship and Beasley's illness in
stride. The two hold hands in front of Beasley's parents, and Ochoa's
mother, sister and 28-year-old son, Sam Ochoa III.
Ochoa also is grateful for his close relationship with his ex-wife,
Janie Marie Dickson, the high school sweetheart he married in 1975.
Their split four years later was the beginning of a bitter couple of
years, as Ochoa's family struggled to accept his sexual identity. Now
many of Ochoa's relatives joke that if the couple ever separated, they
would claim Beasley. The pair say they are blessed with friends and
relatives who see them as two people in love instead of focusing on
their sexual orientation.
"Let me tell you, after the honeymoon period, sex in any marriage is
the smallest part of married life after paying bills, dealing with kids
and getting dinner on the table," Ochoa says. "When you say you are
gay, the first thing people think about is what you do in your bedroom.
That is not what our marriage is about, and besides, there are a lot of
straight people who do much weirder stuff than many gays and lesbians
have ever done."
Their jovial demeanors harden when the conversation turns to
discrimination. They are certain future generations will look back on
gay rights issues much like current generations view the racial and
gender bigotry of the past.
They resent feeling too uncomfortable to hold hands in public, having
to fight to see the other after visiting hours in the hospital and
having to console other gay couples who call the police when neighbors
yell slurs at them in the presence of children. The two believe gay
couples should never be denied adoption rights. Kids can never have too
many people who love them, says Ochoa, who played an integral role in
raising his son and caring for his 1-year-old granddaughter.
Each refuses to pretend to be just friends when introducing the other
in public. Ochoa says they cannot expect others to accept their
lifestyle if they aren't open and secure in their relationship. The two
have been active in local gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered
groups.
"Rights are human rights, not gay rights or women's rights or
heterosexual rights," Ochoa says. "Who gives heterosexuals the right to
say that we can't get married?"
The two said they have experienced little overt harassment. Their
lives are often too busy between church functions and doctor's
appointments for them to notice judgmental stares or to dwell on cruel
remarks. But they have felt the sting of inequity.
"I was waiting to pick Stacy up at the Tucson (Ariz.) airport, and his
flight was rerouted and delayed 7 hours," Ochoa says. "The airport
people wouldn't tell me what had happened because I was not 'family.' I
was so scared the plane had crashed. I never felt so awful."
The couple acknowledges their battles against hospital visitation laws
and the like have strained their relationship. They visited a marriage
counselor six years into their union, when sickness and the restraints
of a fixed income were wearing on the relationship. The therapy
succeeded in strengthening their bond, which they consider a marriage
in every sense of the word, Beasley said. Even though the state doesn't
recognize the union, the couple plan to renew their vows in 2007 in
celebration of their 10th anniversary.
They even thought about making the trip to Massachusetts for a legal
marriage license. The two concluded the trip would be pointless because
states are not required to recognize the same-sex marriage contracts of
other states, as articulated in the 1996 Defense of Marriage Act.
While the two said they don't need a marriage license for their union
to feel complete, they long for recognition and acceptance. They are
pleased a handful of states, including Vermont, Connecticut and New
Jersey, have broadened marriage definitions to recognize civil unions
and domestic partnerships, and are hopeful that Texas will some day
extend the rights of married heterosexual couples to same-sex couples.
"I hope that people are finally starting to realize that two people
deciding to commit to each other is a good and stable decision,"
Beasley said. "Just because we are gay doesn't threaten another
couple's relationship. That is ridiculous."
The results of surveys on the issue of gay marriage are as varied as
the camps trying to define the institution. A 2003 USA TODAY/CNN/Gallup
Poll found that 50 percent of those surveyed said gay marriage would
improve or have no effect on society. But the PBS program "Religion and
Ethics Newsweekly" found that 71 percent of Americans' surveyed believe
in the statement: "God's plan for marriage is one man, one woman, for
life." Most published surveys on the subject note an increase in the
number of Americans open to same-sex unions.
Texans will have a chance to vote on the issue of gay marriage this
week. Come Tuesday, voters will decide whether the traditional
interpretation of marriage Ñ that it is between a man and a woman --
should be etched in the state constitution, making the definition less
vulnerable to lawsuits and the interpretation of judges.
Proposition 2, that proposed constitutional amendment, is expected to
pass, according to State Sen. Todd Staples, R-Palestine, author of the
controversial measure. He said the proposal does not curtail private
relationships, but reflects and protects the views of the majority in
the state.
Ochoa worries the amendment, if passed, might encourage lawmakers to
further strip away rights of gay couples.
"If this Proposition 2 passes, then what?" Ochoa said. "Are they then
going to say that I can't live with another man?"
Both deeply spiritual individuals, Beasley and Ochoa take great
satisfaction from religious groups' growing acceptance of gay unions.
In 2004, the governing body of the United Church of Christ became the
largest Christian denomination to pass a resolution endorsing same-sex
marriage. The vote doesn't force individual churches to accept gay
marriages, but the majority of its churches support the referendum and
perform civil unions.
Other denominations, such as the Episcopal Church, Evangelical
Lutheran Church and Presbyterian Church (USA), recognize same-sex
unions.
Ochoa and Beasley belong to Waco's gay-friendly Central Texas
Metropolitan Community Church from the Heart. They said the
congregation of straight and gay members has been their rock during
hard times.
"When we got the awful news about cancer, our pastor even came out to
our house to make sure we were OK and had food to eat," Beasley said.
"These people love us as though we are family, and it's great to know
that you are loved unconditionally."
kheine@wacotrib.com
