Intro
This project was born from the painful experiences of friends and family dealing with the disconnects of the LGBTQ+ experience in religion and those who love and support them. These stories illustrate the challenges, in hopes that others will see the people and the pain, not the politics.
Harry
Mormonism is my first tongue. It’s how and why I talk about God… how I frame my own altruism, how I measure the distance between where I am and where I should be. I couldn’t leave it if I wanted, and I don’t want to.
I started attending the LDS Church with my sister and was baptized at the ripe old age of eight. A year later, she moved away, and the ward picked up the slack. Every Saturday night, the ward choir nag would call and remind me that if I wanted a ride to choir, she’d be by to pick me up. My home teacher also happened to be my letter carrier, so I saw him a couple times a week. A couple of Sunday school teachers lived around the block. There were an inordinate number of Mormons in my Pacific Northwest neighborhood, watching over me. I think I may have been in one of a handful of Celestial wards.
I heard plenty of anti-gay rhetoric, growing up—and some of it was directed at me. I hadn’t connected the dots, just yet. That didn’t happen until after my mission, after I fell in love with my mission trainer, after I fell in love with the boy next door at BYU. Yet the rhetoric weighed me down. I may not have been gay… but I knew damn well that I was different. So at an early age, I started to construct my own sanctuary… my own place under the heavens, where people were kind and where I belonged. There were a handful of trusted adults and my books.
When I finally came out, one fateful Saturday night at 3am, I had had lots of practice at redrawing the lines in my life—editing toxic people out and drawing beautiful people in.
Once I started the long, inexorable journey out of the closet, those lines were even more important as I found my tribe newly awakened to my status as a threat to the Family and a threat to the Faith. I’ve had a few enlightened bishops and plenty of lucky breaks. My path out of the closet didn’t take me out of the Church… but staying takes work—sometimes daily work—to shore up the walls of my safe spaces against the steady drub of news from the Church Office Building and words from the pulpit.
And still I remain… worshipping in a sanctuary I’ve had to build and rebuild with my own two hands.
JT
Mormonism is the spiritual language I speak. Growing up, the LDS Church was my main source of happiness and friends. I come from a big Mormon family with pioneer heritage. I graduated from early morning seminary. I am a BYU graduate and served an honorable full-time mission. After college, I became a physician in the United States Uniformed Services.
Through college, I had convinced myself that if I just kept dating girls, I would find the right one and things would click. If I just prayed more and tried harder, maybe I could find a woman and fit into the plan of salvation I had taught to so many. Though I had homosexual feelings from a young age, the Church taught me that this was an illness, a temptation, a phase. I fervently prayed to change. I spent decades in denial, getting to the point where I no longer wanted to socialize because I couldn’t be myself with my friends or family. I became numb. I didn’t want to be “gay.” I couldn’t even say that word. The Church that was once my haven became a source of pain.
In my numbness, I was working in an Intensive Care Unit, watching many patients at the end of their lives. Some of them had families and loved ones by their sides when they passed, reflecting on a legacy of love. Others died alone in dark rooms; no one cared. Watching this day in and day out broke down my walls of denial. I knew that I would die sad and alone if I did not choose to be honest with myself.
Since coming out, my life has been so much better. For those true friends who really knew and loved me before, not much changed. I have met so many incredible people—in and out of the LDS Church—who mentor, challenge, and edify me. I am inspired by those who seek to understand others’ experiences and are willing to modify their opinions. Now, I have the freedom to live honestly. My life is vibrant again. I look forward to a bright future.
At the moment, the message to LGBT church members is confusing and contradictory. It is full of politics and fear, not love. The lack of inclusion drives many gifted, deeply spiritual people away. I hope there is a time in the future where LGBT people—and all people who don’t fit the mainstream—can find themselves welcome in the Mormon church. Jesus finds room for everyone and loves unconditionally.
Jay
I am a life-long LDS church member and grew up in the typical Mormon family. I got baptized at 8, received the Priesthood at 12, went on a mission when I turned 19, and graduated from BYU. My childhood and growth through young adulthood was ideal in most ways except for one - I had a big secret that I fiercely guarded - I was gay! As a Mormon, I grew up believing we are on this earth to learn and grow and overcome challenges, remain faithful and endure to the end. I quickly realized my gayness was not something that was normal or accepted. I did everything in my power to repress, stop and get rid of those feelings. I knew that this was going to be my challenge in life – overcoming my homosexuality. I just knew that if I prayed hard enough, had more faith, followed the prescribed path, that God would bless me with the development of normal heterosexual feelings and desires. I pushed back and fought down any homosexual feelings and tried dating girls through my teenage years and into college. I made lots of great girlfriends, but not romantic attachments. I felt that surely by going on a mission and serving the Lord and the people on my mission that then I’d be blessed and find “the one” that would lead me down the path of normal heterosexual love and marriage. My mission to Korea was a wonderful and a spiritual experience where my gayness was not a problem and where those feelings were not a major issue. When I came home, I returned to BYU and threw myself whole-heartedly into dating and trying to find the girl of my dreams. I dated so many girls but always found myself nit-picking the smallest faults as reasons to not continue dating. They were all – too fat, too skinny, too loud, too religious, not religious enough, laughed funny, too gloomy…. You name it, I probably used it as an excuse to not pursue any one girl beyond a couple of dates. The reality was, I knew my being gay was not something that was going away no matter how many times I went to the temple, prayed, fasted, read the scriptures and strived to have more faith. One semester, during this time, I found myself roommates with a guy who I fell in love with who was also gay. It was magical and wonderful and tragic at the same time. We were both so closeted and straight-arrow returned missionary Mormons that even as much as we were attracted to each other and loved each other, neither one of us could see any path forward or future for us. I had to leave BYU and go work abroad just to get away from the situation. During this time I talked to a couple of Church leaders about my SSA attractions. The advice I got on both occasions was to find a good woman and get married and those inclinations would diminish and I’d be able to be a husband and father. After working abroad for a year, I came home, finished up at BYU and started working full-time. I was doing everything I could to be as righteous and worthy of finding a wife as I possibly could, active in church and temple attendance, daily study of the scriptures and complete adherence to the commandments. During that first year of working full-time I lived with my sister and met a full-time sister missionary. The first thought I had when we met was, “That is the girl you will marry!” I was thrilled and excited and even though she was a missionary, I had my answer. She was “the one!” Well, she eventually went home and we kept in touch for awhile, but after several months her letters stopped. I was so depressed and saddened that the answer to my prayers had not come to fruition. Several years passed and I found myself in my thirties and still no closer to marriage. I was attending a family ward and serving as the Elders Quorum President when I got a call from this sister missionary. She was back in Utah and wanted to see me. I was so excited until I found out she was married and had two kids! My hopes were dashed again until I found out she was getting divorced. After her divorce we began dating and because of the feelings and impressions I’d had before, was finally at the point where I felt okay proposing to a woman. We got married and though I knew I wasn’t sexually attracted to her in a big way, felt like there was enough there and “knew” this was the path I was supposed to go down. The first few years were pretty good for the most part, we had two boys right away. This was a huge and comforting blessing to me even though emotionally and intimately I knew that my wife and I were not connecting. This was especially hard for her and we had many, many arguments and discussions as to why she didn’t feel loved and appreciated like she wanted to. I sincerely tried to be the good husband but as time went on, I found that more and more being sexually intimate with her became more and more difficult and more of a burden and a chore. This was not good for either of us and eventually led to her telling me she wanted a divorce.
This was devastating and extremely difficult for me to comprehend. I had worked so hard to do what I was supposed to, been faithful, righteous and as attentive as I knew how, and it wasn’t enough. This carefully constructed image or façade I had created of the perfect Mormon family was now being torn down. How could this happen? When I realized she was indeed serious and through with the marriage, I told her of my struggles with SSA and how I had tried so hard to make things work but ultimately how sorry I was for not being able to be the man she needed and wanted. She was pretty upset that I hadn’t told her at the outset, but I had told virtually no one besides a couple of church leaders who had told me to go find someone to marry! I had told none of my family or friends and felt like having people know I was gay was the worst possible thing that could ever happen to me. The divorce went through and my wife left. I was serving in the bishopric of my ward at the time and the Bishop and all the ward members were so kind, loving and helpful during that difficult transition period. Because she left, a lot of people looked at her as the reason for the marriage failing. Because I was still not out, I just let them think what they wanted. It was unfair to my ex-wife, but I was still not ready to face the fact that me being gay was the biggest factor in the marriage failing.
Since the divorce, I have remained active in the church and held various callings. Because my boys come to church with me, I've had this constant reason to remain active, even though I often feel out of place and awkward at church. I constantly struggled over what was more brave and courageous - whether to remain closeted and single and endure to the end as a single man in the Church or come out and tell people I was gay and possibly have the chance of finding love. What was my purpose, mission, reason for being on this earth? I knew if I came out, there was no promise of things going well or even finding happiness living as an openly gay man. Would my boys suffer, be ostracized, made fun of, be embarrassed of me? All these thoughts troubled me greatly. Ultimately I came to the conclusion that God created me, he didn’t make a mistake when he created me this way, I am not broken or in need of being fixed. When this became clear to me, my path forward also became clear. I wanted my boys and my family to know who I really am, not this person I had been pretending to be for so long. I wanted them to know the struggles, the trials, the hardships that made me into the person I’ve become. Telling my boys and my family has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but ultimately has become the biggest blessing of my life. I have felt the guiding influence of the Holy Spirit more in the past few months, since coming out, than I have in the past 10 years as a closeted gay Mormon. All of my family and my boys have been accepting, loving and supportive of my decision. I felt for so long if anyone knew my secret that my life would be ruined and I would just want to go crawl in a hole and die. Instead, I feel so much better, lighter and happier in my skin than I ever have in my life. I’ve been amazed to find so many other gay Mormons who are good and awesome and happy and thriving despite being gay. I have met some of the most amazing, loving, kind, talented and good-hearted men who understand completely these turbulent waters I find myself in. What a blessing to know that I’m not alone, dirty, unlovable and forgotten. Many of these men have left the church because of the positions and policies of the LDS Church. I completely understand and can relate to going down that path. For now, I remain active and have a testimony of the gospel, though I too struggle with the policies the Church has towards its gay members. Just like growing up gay has had a profound effect on the development of the man I have become, so has growing up in the LDS church. I can’t turn my back on either one and I am still hoping and praying for a way forward that I don’t have to choose one over the other.
Will
"I will choose the Church over you every time."
These were the first words I heard from my Dad when I told him I was coming out. My worst fears had come true.
I had waited almost 33 years to tell my parents that I was gay. I'd always feared that if they knew my secret they wouldn't accept me. I knew how strong their convictions to our church were. I knew the importance that the Gospel played in our family with daily scripture study, family prayers, and weekly family home evenings. And I was reminded that the scriptures made it very clear that children were to obey their fathers and mothers, and we should always listen to our parents.
I also knew that my parents didn't like gay people. They had made their disdain clear during my childhood when there were gay people on TV. Or this one time when we saw two men holding hands on a vacation to San Francisco, and my dad said he wanted to "bash their brains in."
So at the age of 12 when I first realized I was attracted to my same sex, I knew I needed a plan to keep my parents loving me. To not become the horrible person they had portrayed in my childhood, but instead to be the Child of God I was expected to be. I knew that complete focus on the Church would keep their praises high and continue to make me feel like I was a loved part of our family.
So I was a good boy. The very best. I was Deacons, Teachers, and Priests quorum president. Was called as Seminary President at my high school. Went to BYU. Was an AP on my mission. Taught at the MTC. Magnified my callings. Always smiling. Never showing anything but joy.
But that nagging desire to find romantic love and acceptance was also strong. So strong that it often put me into depression. And the only people I really trusted with my life, my parents, couldn't be trusted with my deepest secret.
One day I couldn't hold it any longer. I'd lasted into my early 30s as a single LDS man. But I was alone. And I couldn't bear the loneliness any longer.
So I came out. And I told my parents. And my dad said the Church didn't support my lifestyle. And he told me the Church was more important to him than his own son.
And there we were. At an impasse. For many years following my coming out I chose to stay away from them. I met an amazing person to spend the rest of my life with. And he and I were truly happy together, but my life was still incomplete because my parents didn't accept me. And as much as my parents said they loved me, I knew they loved what they wanted me to be, not what I was.
And that is where I'd accepted my story would end.
But then three years ago a change happened. It happened because members of the Church started talking about their gay and SSA children, and brothers, and sisters. Church leaders started speaking about it. What was once hidden in the dark was brought into the light.
And that's what my parents needed. To see Church leaders willing to have a conversation about SSA and gay members. Finally in my parents' minds they were given permission by the Church to love all of me. And my husband. To choose me AND the Church.
And this year at Christmas for the first time, my husband Steve and I opened OUR gift from my parents, with a card that said, "We love you."