Coming Out in Mormon Heartland pt. 3 The Decision
After graduating from BYU with a liberal arts degree, I moved back home and allowed myself to attend my home ward. This was about a year after my Dad’s unexpected passing, a time when a person really needed the social equivalent of wrapping up in a pile of blankets and watching Disney movies (which incidentally is my typical Sunday evening). Moreover, I just didn’t really see the practicality of attending a singles' ward, certainly not at that point in my life.
During my college period, I had adopted a lot of maladaptive ideas about myself. I had internalized, for example, that I was not worthy to serve a mission, and so I never let myself follow-through with the application process, which made me the rare BYU graduate who did not have this rite of passage under my belt. I was really struggling for definition during these years. It was also during this time of my life that I started writing my personal blog of film reviews and analyses. Mostly I just needed something to anchor my various mind-wanderings as I reckoned with how I ought to devote my life.
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| The Graduate (1967) is about the only movie I could invoke here, come on ... |
The transformation that happened during these crucial years is something I owe to a great many people. This was a time when I felt I brought nothing to the table. Not socially, not professionally, not intellectually. Without anything to display my merits as a person in the way of achievement, all I really brought to any situation was myself. And I was blessed with friends who made me feel like that was enough.
And so I started repairing how I saw myself. I felt comfortable going through the process of receiving my endowments and going through the temple. This itself would go a long way to open the doors of revelation for me and help me see myself and my eternal identity more clearly. For many members, especially many guys, this happens very shortly after high school. Or at least before you're twenty. But because this transition happened when I was already a few years into adulthood, I think I got to appreciate more clearly how that specific decision, and not just the transition into adulthood itself, opened up my eyes and my worldview.
During this time, I received a lot of instruction from God about the choices I needed to make. I don’t remember when exactly I had the idea to go public with my situation. I was never told in any of these priesthood blessings or temple trips that God wanted or expected me to drop the curtain, to tell the world that I was gay. The Spirit certainly may have been guiding me to experiences that influenced my decision, but I never felt like God was pressuring me to do something I didn’t want to do.
Mostly what I remember is being part of Gospel Doctrine or Elder’s Quorum lessons and having to talk around certain things when I shared my insights or testimonies, or just staying silent altogether. President So-and-So would ask, “Can anybody think a time when knowledge of their divine identity helped carry them through times of hardship?” Honestly, nobody has better answers to that than those of us who live with same-gender-attraction. I would often rehearse these stories in my mind to myself, feeling jilted that no one else would get to hear any of my insights. They never would so long as I kept this part of my story to myself.
And this idea that had infected me--that telling my story could help people--this is different from what I had felt before. This wasn't me trying to defend myself or even prove myself. This was me realizing for the first time that I had light to give.
But I was also very aware of the
risks involved. I had the experience fresh in my mind of JOE—a person I had
considered to be thoughtful and open-minded—cutting ties with me in a
particularly humiliating way. Moreover, I was also worried about the BILLs in
my network and how they’d respond. I had seen firsthand how their blanket of
tolerance did not cover everyone.
A friend of mine who works in
Church Education shared that The Church generally expected to be faced with
public backlash anytime they did … anything. The difference, though, was that
once upon a time, this outcry came from the world at large. Today, that rage was
mostly carried by the membership. Those who "knew better."
I had absolutely observed this as
well. And so I got to wonder, if I put myself out there, will this half of the
membership see this as someone choosing to be their wholest self? Or will they
see me as just another opponent to progress?
Movement toward this end goal was
largely impeded by my insistence that I first break the news to a select few
individuals who I thought deserved to know ahead of time. These were people who
had consistently proven their loyalty to me. Many of them were also men for
whom I felt romantic affection. These were basically JOE substitutes.
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"Scooby-Doo: Where Are You?" (1969) I very much wanted to convince myself it was just like tearing the mask off the monster at the end of a Scooby-Doo episode where you figured out the scary thing was never actually that scary. |
It’s been difficult explaining to
confidants the necessity I felt for specifically opening up to people for whom
I felt deep affection. Honestly, it’s difficult for me to explain to myself. JOE
scarring me for life should have conditioned that right out of me. But for some
reason, it had the opposite effect. It left me desperate to disprove the
theorem and convince myself that I wasn’t going to go the rest of my life retreating
from human connection.
Checking off these boxes was not
necessarily easy. Even for the most loyal of associates, nailing down a time
and place to meet up, and arranging conditions in which I felt personally
comfortable divulging such delicate parts of myself, can be a bit cumbersome in
this economy.
Not everyone on that audition list
wound up making the cut. One person who had been on this list was an individual
with whom I had felt close once, but our relationship had fractured some time
back. This was another person for whom I had developed deep affection for, and,
as with JOE, growing awareness of this triggered his dispersal.
He never said the ‘g’ word, but as
my affection for him became obvious, he withdrew. I lived in closer proximity
to this man that I did with JOE, such that this guy could not just cut ties
with me altogether and move on the way JOE had. (Who knows. If he’d had the
option, he might have done so, congratulating himself for “caring enough” to
set such a firm but necessary boundary.) In fact, he would go out of his way to
continue to be nice to me, greeting me with very enthusiastic “How ARE you?”s
in the hallways, but he was even more enthusiastic that this would be the
totality of our interactions. There would be no more hugs. There would be no
more conversations. But I continued to try with other candidates.
After months of trying to flag down
certain individuals, I struck gold a few times. I met with an old young men’s
leader, who had since moved up north, at a restaurant—I’ll call him DEAN. Some
time later, I was helping a neighbor with some house renovations—I’ll call him
ALEX. Both of these were men who were about a generation or so ahead of me.
Younger than either of my parents, but still comfortably older than me. (For further context, DEAN tended to lean conservative, ALEX tended to lean liberal.)
There was a bit of a whirlwind in my
brain when the words, “I’m gay,” tripped out of my wordhole. Neither of them were
surprised by this. Very few people who know me well enough to be trusted with
this kind of information are taken off guard when to find this out. They’ve
probably been practicing in case this day ever came. And they were both quick
to supply my disclosure with affirmations of support. “You don’t really
think this is going to change how I feel about you, do you?”
The poor fools thought that the
test was over.
This was generally the part where
I’d take a deep breath and say, “Okay, but you know I’m not just into ‘men’
generally. Like, I feel romantically for specific people, too.” I find unique
ways to tell both of them that I have a crush on both of them, and have for
some time.
As I'm sitting with DEAN or ALEX, I’m realizing that JOE
probably also knew about me—in the same way that DEAN and ALEX both do. JOE probably knew about me all along. He had abided my very obvious feelings of
affection for him when I was young because what was a kid going to do? It was only when I crossed into
adulthood that the protective membrane broke. That was when a schoolboy crush
mutated into a potential trap, something that might try to lure him into
violating his covenants. I’m on the other side of all that now with DEAN and
ALEX, and I was watching in real time as they decided how they saw me.
ALEX thought for a moment, then shrugged and told me, “Well … I’m happily married.” And that’s the end of his concerns. He asked me if I wanted a sandwich, and we both went upstairs. DEAN, meanwhile, started to tell me about how he used to crush on his neighbors when he was a kid too.
So, yes,
ALEX and DEAN both gave very encouraging reactions. My relationships with both
of these men continue to today, and their displays of goodwill toward me were very healing.
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| Stranger Things (2016) |
That doesn’t
mean all of these reactions were comforting.
A few times,
I would let someone know that I was gay, and they would share, as DEAN and ALEX
had, that they had sort of caught the vibe from me. I would then go on to
explain being in a good place spiritually and my intentions to live within The
Church. I shared this feeling very proud of what it had taken for me to reach
this conclusion.
But for some
people, their response to this would sort of veer into something cold. They’d
never look me in the eye when this happened, but eventually they’d just say something a lot like, “Well,
as long as you’re absolutely sure you’ve thought about this …”
It was always these
encounters that left me feeling rejected. These were friends who assumed, like
so many others in my life did, that I had stumbled into these conclusions. Even
as I was confessing some of the saltiest trials I had walked through, they
still somehow saw me as sheltered. These were not hard-earned truths I had
uncovered through deliberation and meditation. This was just Dear Sweet Zach
living in “his perfect little world” because he didn’t know how to live
anywhere else.
"The term 'gaslighting' is used often in conversations surrounding LGBT+ topics and the Church. Interestingly enough, the term is rarely used to describe the efforts of those who try to convince all-in LGBT+/SSA Latter-day Saints that they are brainwashed, crazy, extrinsically motivated, in denial, or driven by self-hatred, phobia, or Stockholm syndrome—saying things like: 'Have you ever considered that this doctrine could change like race and the priesthood?' or 'When you’re older, you’ll realize how important companionship actually is.' or 'How can you know that you shouldn’t date the same-sex if you’ve never tried?'
"So much of this assumes that all-in Latter-day Saints haven’t thought as deeply about their options as those on different paths. For some, it seems almost impossible to comprehend that an LGBT+/SSA person could be a rational, well-informed, shame-free, and mentally well adult and still freely choose a life fully committed to the Church. Many people essentially believe that if an LGBT+ person is happy in the Church, there must be something wrong with them."
But no part of these convictions
had been handed to me. I had been challenged for my efforts from both camps. I’ve
had every excuse, every opportunity to suppose that I didn’t fit into the membership,
whether it was because I was too aberrant or because I was too untested. When
nobody had offered me a place at the table, I made one for myself. And that is
something I have thought about many times. I’m absolutely sure.
Some
time later, I was at a Stake Priesthood meeting. I was sitting by myself as
usual. But during the intermediate hymn, I sensed someone swooping in next to
me just before they pick me up in a giant hug. Just before my feet are lifted
off the ground, I see that it’s ALEX. We’d seen each other since I let him in
the club, but we hadn’t seen each other much lately, and he wanted to say hello
really quick.
I
don’t remember how exactly we spent that catch-up. Mostly, I’m just aware that
someone very dear to me—who knows about the things that made me wonder if I
belong in the pews each Sunday—still wanted me near him. Where many others have
ejected me from their circles for fear that I might look at them wrong, my
friend isn’t scared of me at all. Here he is just wrapping me up in a mega-hug
in plain view of all the other men of The Stake letting me know he’s glad to see
me. And it meant the world.
There are many others whom I would like to tell. It’s clear that whatever waits for me on the other side of this, I needed to start preparing to take this thing public. I had work to do.
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| Power Rangers (2017) |
I spent about a month preparing the
message. Late nights at work had me pounding out the message. I’m thinking of
all sorts of people who might read this. The vast majority would have been
members, but in that swath, there was still great variety. People who had never
really been exposed to gay members of the church and might feel nervous about confronting
this for the first time. People who had closeted loved ones in the church and
were desperate to scout for examples of others who were like them. People who
were themselves gay and had slammed the door on The Church. How on earth did I
expect myself to speak to them all?
And so I let myself accept that I
might be saying goodbye to certain comforts. Certain people, on either side of
the fence, are going to see me different going forward.
But it occurs to me all the while
that even as I have long struggled to find myself amid two opposite crowds, I
have never felt like I wasn’t wanted by God. Part of my drafted message read,
“But
whatever else was going on in my life, I have never felt that God loved me less
for the way I experience attraction, nor have I taken his revealed doctrine on
marriage to be a sign of disfavor … Where all sorts of voices have told me that
my same-gender attraction would be the cornerstone on which my entire identity
must be built, one way or another, God has shown me that it is but one of many
facets of my life that makes my story interesting. All the while, I have felt I
belonged with God, even when I was sure I didn’t belong anywhere else.”
The last Sunday before my scheduled
message, I honestly felt like I was floating. I texted a friend that day,
“I am down to the last 24ish hours
until I break the news.
“I feel like I should be more
stressed than I am now given that I am likely to find out that some of my
friends aren’t really my friends. My life is going to change tomorrow. But
right now all I really feel is serenity, and I’m not wanting to chase that away.
“I could spend weeks more
fine-tuning the wording, but as some point. I just gotta let this thing go.”
And that’s what I did. On December
4th, 2023, I got home from an evening shift, and then at approximately 11 pm, I told the world I was gay.
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| Titanic (1997) |
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