You bring to mind when I was living in New York City and used to see Tom Duane out and about all the time. He was a young gay man, a Democratic politician on the rise, and represented my district on the city council.

He lived not far from my partner Lenny and me, and whenever Lenny saw him in the street (Manhattan is a pedestrian city, so that's not as unusual as it might sound) he would rush up and say hi, gushing and initiating conversation.

I usually felt embarrassed, having already absorbed a sort of New Yorker custom of pretending not to notice "celebrities," but Tom was unfailingly gracious and kind.

Later, he became our representative in Congress, and I can't even describe the pride I felt knowing that passing him on the street, he would smile and nod in recognition. I'm sure he wouldn't remember our names, but I know he recognized us as neighbors.

That seems like a small thing, I know. But as a young gay man, being represented by a congressman who was also a young gay man felt like ... I'm not sure how to express it. I had never felt that real or included in society.

Thanks so much for your story, I appreciate quite a lot of it, but I just wanted to add this little anecdote.

I almost started to write about my Australian boyfriend's mother's racism, but let's leave that for another day.