Fifty years on

Happy Pride month to everyone! This June commemorates the Stonewall riots 50 years ago that helped catalyze increased rights for LGBT people in the US. It also commemorates four years since marriage equality was upheld by the Supreme Court.

I’m fortunate to live in a time and place where I can be relatively out in my personal and professional life and can live without threat of physical harm or routine verbal assaults. That unfortunately isn’t the case for everyone, and I’ve become aware of quite a few instances of outright homophobia and violence against LGBT people over the last month. For example:

-   A police officer and pastor in Tennessee expressed his vile opinion that LGBT people should be executed by the government.

-   Pastors in Florida organized a “Make America Straight Again” rally where speakers included virulent anti-LGBT positions.

-   A young gay scientist on Twitter reported that his partner had been surrounded and verbally taunted by 5 teenagers in a bathroom in Dallas, Texas.

-   There have been over 10 reported murders of transgender people this calendar year, and transgender people of color have been particularly targeted.

-   There has been a decline in the percentage of young adults comfortable with LGBT people over the last few years.

These instances of homophobia and intolerance are indicative of pervasive discrimination against LGBT people. Marriage equality notwithstanding, we are far from equal treatment of all people regardless of sexual orientation and gender identity, either across the US or across the world. Consider that:

-   In the majority of US states, it is still perfectly legal to fire an LGBT person or deny them housing because of their sexual orientation or gender identity.

-   There is no federal law to protect LGBT people from discrimination although the US House has recently passed the Equality Act.

-   Although LGBT people comprise only about 4% of the population, FBI statistics from 2017 show that they are the target of over 16% of documented hate crimes in the US.

-   The current US administration has successfully implemented a ban on transgender individuals in the military, reversing recent progress made regarding inclusion in the armed forces.

-   Homosexual activity is illegal in almost half of the nations on Earth, with severe punishments such as death in some cases.

The Stonewall riots 50 years ago in New York occurred because LGBT people had reached a breaking point. I don’t condone violence, but human beings will act in self defense when oppression becomes severe enough. Annual pride celebrations emerged as reminders of the Stonewall riots, and though they have become overridden with commercial opportunism as much as anything recently, they are still a powerful opportunity for LGBT people to gather with allies and celebrate the advances that have been made.

In light of how much anti-LGBT sentiment still exists in the world, perhaps the lesson 50 years after Stonewall is that we can never take progress on civil rights for granted. The US is seeing a resurgence in all manner of regressive attitudes, including racism, anti-immigrant sentiment, and political intolerance. To build a prosperous society, we must resist the pull of xenophobia and intolerance, and advocate for a world in which differences are seen as enriching our collective humanity.

The San Francisco Pride parade in 2015, just days after marriage equality was affirmed by the US Supreme Court.

Gay teen romance of the palatable variety

Love, Simon (trailer) came out in theaters this weekend. I almost never see movies in the theater, but when I heard about this movie about a week ago, I knew I wanted to see it. Part of me (maybe a generally submerged part) is a sappy romantic. The movie is a comedic teen romance, and as several critics point out, is predictably scripted as per the genre. However it seemed to offer something almost surprisingly unique for a mainstream film – a gay central character.

Simon, 17, lives a relatively affluent suburban life with a happy nuclear American family and a group of close supportive high school friends. He’s carried the secret of his sexual orientation for several years, but one day learns from a friends that there is another, anonymous kid at his school. Boldly he strikes up a conversation on-line with “Blue” and gradually the two anonymous boys confide in each other and grow closer. Neither knows the other’s identity, and Simon spends much of the movie wondering if this guy or that is Blue. Events soon become more complicated when a scheming classmate captures screenshots of Simon’s conversations and threatens to out Simon if Simon doesn’t set the boy up with one of his friends. Eventually Simon is outed against his will, two bullies openly taunt him at school, friends who feel betrayed by his behavior become distant, and Blue retreats, not ready to be out himself.

Each of these setbacks is reversed in time. His friends return. The bullies are thoroughly reprimanded at school. Christmas morning he comes out to his parents who offer warm support. And he finally meets Blue in a sappy Hollywood climax. It’s not a necessarily overly creative movie plot-wise, but the acting is passable to good, and comedy adds balance to the awkward and more serious moments of the film.

Unfortunately there is likely to be some pushback about this movie. Anytime the actually-normal normalcy of gay life is portrayed publicly there are some who take that as an opportunity to decry the downfall of the family and other sordid evils that will befall America because there was a short non-sensual gay kiss in a mainstream movie. Hollywood will get attacked; the “gay agenda” will be denounced; and stern moral warnings may flow from some people who frankly probably make God (should s/he exist or even give a damn) ashamed to be associated with them.

One of the perks of the film is the portrayal of gay life as very average most of the time. It is not all flashy, flamboyant, and queer theory. One sympathetic reviewer called it quite “vanilla”, but noted that that wasn’t necessarily bad, especially since vanilla might be all the general heterosexual masses in polarized America might be ready for. At upwards of 4% of the population, and youth claiming non-heterosexuality at perhaps even higher rates, being LGBT is quite normal. The normalcy on non-heterosexuality will rustle some feathers, but it is not only factually accurate, but is a necessary social perspective for our society to be more equal and inclusive.

The film dealt with some issues that a straight romantic film couldn’t, one being the collateral damage of the closet. We suspect earlier in the movie, and learn definitively later, that one of Simon’s best friends is in love with him. A life-long thoughtful friend, her heart is broken when she learns that Simon doesn’t see her that way and he tries to set her up with another mutual friend. The innocence with which Simon is unaware of her feelings for him could be the experience of any naïve teen, but it is practically a hallmark of young gay men oblivious to the interest of their female friends. The movie plays on the stereotypical, though probably at least partly true, theme that the innocence and romantic distance of young gay guys seems to attract the girls’ interest even more. Unfortunately for the straight female friend, like other closeted gay boys, Simon is daydreaming about guys.

Though not particularly well developed in the movie, Love, Simon also deals with the struggle of self acceptance that is one universal ritual that precedes the (voluntary) coming out experience. Really, Simon has the most ideal environment possible for coming out – he lives in upper middle class comfort, has warm open-minded loving parents, good looks, and fits comfortably in his high school social world. Even so, he struggles with coming out for some time, and it is only through meeting another closeted student on-line that he begins the process. In fact, the two help each other break the secrecy and isolation of the closet in a mutually-affirming way.  This mirrors my own coming out experience, and probably that of many others – through connection with other LGBT people, we break the isolation that fuels the fear that suppresses self-acceptance.

For straight audiences, hopefully the film offers a few minutes of reflection about what the struggle for self-acceptance can be like and the transformation that occurs between regarding sexuality as a combustible secret and a personal asset. The movie takes a minute to take a playful jab at the fact that straight people never have to come out to their families or friends. I might add that while straight youth thereby dodge the discomfort of the process, perhaps they lose something in life experience by not having to deeply confront who they really are and how authentically they want their inner reality to match their outer persona.

For Simon to come out, it meant exchanging the safety of his false heterosexual image (or asexual image at best) for the freedom to be himself at all times and in all places. The exchange of safety for liberation almost invariably comes with a cost in the real world, but for Simon it is transient and minimal in the film. In short, he had it way easier than when I went to high school and probably easier than many kids today in certain communities.

This relatively seamless path to acceptance is an unrealistic expectation for every young LGBT people (violence, rejecting families and lack of supportive networks are all too common unfortunately), but Simon’s story is a refreshing exception to what is probably the norm, even in 2018 America. As an LGBT audience anticipating and enjoying a film like this, sometimes we want to just breathe too, and soak in an innocent sweet gay love story. May these stories not be so rare in the future, whether in cinema or in real life. 

Visible

Its Olympic season and the charismatic Adam Rippon has made his way into American households. Adam is a figure skater and the first openly gay athlete to represent the US in a winter Olympics. Of course it is a running joke that all male figure skaters are gay, but in the world of sports (including the apparently conservative field of figure skating), surprisingly no US winter athlete has yet come out while still competing. Athletes who have come out have done so after finishing their sports career. I’m not a follower of figure skating but I thought Adam’s opening Olympic performance in the team competition was very touching. The beautiful music coupled with his elegant skating was alluring.

It didn’t take much time on line to find criticism leveled his way. To paraphrase some comments: “Who cares about his sexuality?” “Yawn….another gay figure skater.” “He is a disgrace to this country.” A conservative blog even published an opinion piece criticizing Rippon and another openly gay American Olympian, Gus Kenworthy, for being politically outspoken.

Some of that criticism seems to be a consequence of the running feud between Rippon and the Vice President. Adam has not been shy in expressing his dislike for Mike Pence over the last week. Some (conservatives) don’t like it when an athlete or celebrity expresses his or her (typically liberal) political views. (Nevermind that our sitting president emerged from the cocoon of reality TV.)

That debate aside, what I’d like to consider is why it is still necessary and important for LGBT people to be out publicly. Even in 2018. Even the flamboyant figure skaters who leave casual observers little doubt that they are not heterosexual.

It is important to remember that homophobia is a wide array of attitudes and societal reactions to LGBT people that range from pernicious hate crimes to subtle phenomena that marginalize sexual minorities. The obvious verbal slurs, violence, or discrimination in employment or government services sometimes targeted against LGBT people are the blatant evidence that some in society have hardened prejudice against gay people. One hopes, though I am not sure this can always be quantified, that the incidence of these more egregious expressions of homophobia is less now than it has been in the past and that it will continue to decline into the future.

The more subtle manifestations of homophobia are perhaps more pervasive, and probably what most of us in the LGBT community struggle with most of the time. These are the ways in which individuals or society collectively puts down, excludes, and minimizes gay people without shoving them against a wall or refusing to sign their marriage license. We may not think about these forms of homophobia often, nor recognize that in order to protect ourselves we have internalized some of them too.

One of the most common expressions of subtle homophobia is invisibility. If LGBT people are quiet about their feelings, if they hide their partners, if they act straight then they don’t make others uncomfortable and they shield themselves from criticism or embarrassment. Invisibility is antithetical to self-empowerment, but it can be a tool of self preservation in situations of danger.

The invisibility of LGBT people preserves the monolithic heteronormative worldview. In an exclusively heterosexual world, only heterosexuality is portrayed in media. Romance in movies is straight. Love stories are straight. Marketing towards men and women reinforce heterosexual desires and relationships. Everything in society defaults to heterosexuality to the point that coming out is necessary because everyone is simply straight until the public is notified otherwise.

Invisibility is not healthy for young LGBT people. It is during the years when these youth first begin to understand that they are different, that observing examples of healthy, happy LGBT individuals is so critical. Young people need positive role models generally and non-heterosexual or non-cis-gender youth in particular need LGBT role models who can help them form a positive understanding of their sexuality. They need to know that there are older people like them in terms of sexuality and gender expression who come from every walk of life. They need to not just see, but hear, other LGBT people integrated in a normal way into broader society. The public visibility reinforces that they are not an aberration, or a mistake, but rather a normal and valuable human being.

Only in the last few years has a young LBGT person been able – through entertainment, sports, or otherwise – to see that other variations on human sexuality and relationships exist in broader society with any degree of regularity. I certainly saw very little to no expression of homosexuality or bisexuality on TV or in movies while growing up in the 1980s and 1990s. It has taken many brave people coming out over the years to reach a point where today gay and lesbian role models are gaining much greater visibility in sports, in science, in politics, and in business.

In a future hoped-for world, a gay flambuoyant figure skater like Adam Rippon might not feel much need to publicly state his sexual orientation. It may no longer be a brave step for a high school student to come out to her peers. But reaching that world that will require a shift in society. It is first necessary for the majority heterosexual population to remember that there are minority sexualities in their families, their workplaces, and their communities and that their representation in broader society is important. It is first necessary for media, sports, literature, and politics to create a comfortable space where people of all orientations and forms of gender expression can feel that they may freely be themselves.

When a LGBT person is vocal publicly about his or her sexuality, it is not an invitation for a conservative straight person reading Red State to ridicule them or feel they’re the victim of some inconvenience. That some antagonists of equality become so annoyed by our mere visibility in public spaces only reinforces their own insecurity or pettiness. When LGBT people become visible in the public sphere and not just out in their private lives, it breaks down the false narratives that only make room for heterosexuality in human society. Coming out can be a lifeline for the young gay person who is silent and nervous, wondering if there is anyone out there who is like him. Coming out is ultimately a process of personal liberation but it has benefits for others too, especially those still in the safety of invisibility. The triumph of self-belief is to be visible in a world that would often rather we remain invisible.

Competition

This post is going to be a mashup of several different threads running through my mind lately. I don’t have a very good introduction, nor do I want to spend time on one. Let’s just jump in and see if anything useful coalesces by the end.

The first topic is academia. That’s the employment sector where I work currently and where I’ve spent most of my adult life – my many years of post-secondary schooling bleeding into the indentured servitude of a post-doc, and continuing from there. As many of my colleagues would attest, academics are mainly overachievers, a lot that is seldom satisfied on any measure of performance. We are walking careers, ambly taking research from the field into the office and from there into the bathroom. In only ten minutes, we can come up with research questions that would only take ten years to address, meanwhile scribbling out lists of critically important things to do that frankly (most of the time) may only ever turn out to slightly affect about three other people on the planet.

Many academics are perfectionists. A perfectionist is seldom satisfied; s(he) is always looking ahead to what item next requires perfection. There can be a momentary flash of happiness at the crest of a long-sought accomplishment, but the joy is often short lived, because the vanquished imperfection falls into obscurity as the next goal looms disproportionately large on the horizon. Friend: “Congrats, you just published your first research paper!” Brain: “But my lab mate has already published two!”

This has all been re-circulating in my mind lately as I was promoted to a new academic position this summer. That should be great, right? While there is some level of satisfaction, I’ve noticed an increase in my anxiety over the last few months. I seem to be easily reminded of Dr. Everybody Else has clearly published more than me and in much better journals. I think about the graduate students who finished after me and yet have already leap-frogged my place on the long academic totem pole to more prestigious positions. I realize that I am not that great at grant writing, that I haven’t come up with any groundbreaking discoveries in my field, and that I’m nowhere near the top of any of the myriad metrics academics invent to vault themselves to great positions of scholarly honor.

About seven to eight years ago I came face to face with this perfectionist in me. It was interestingly about the time I came out as gay and finally decided that I had had enough of hiding and ignoring who I am. We didn’t have any sort of major battle, but rather a tousle, and though there was no vanquishment of this foe, I at least took the first significant steps of acknowledging the existence of this formidable character and determining that he wouldn’t be the only voice allowed to cast judgment on my life’s circumstances.

The lifeblood of perfectionism is competition - with onesself and with others. It is both a sustaining fuel and poisonous liquid at the same time. In the complete absence of competition, the drive to accomplish, to push, and to improve is diminished. Achievement usually requires motivation. So it serves a purpose in that regard. Yet, under hypercompetitiveness, the fuel becomes poisonous, because no accomplishment is ultimately satisfactory. In a world of 7 billion people, it is almost impossible to become number one at one thing; it is truly impossible to be number one at everything.

Competition is everywhere is American society. It is manifest in couch potatoes jumping up from the sofa when their team scores a touchdown, it is present in the pressure the high school student feels to get accepted to the best colleges, it is in first class airline seats or platinum credit cards, it is embedded in stock market indices, and mad rushes to buy the cheapest gifts on Black Fridays that have now crept into Thanksgiving Thursdays. Capitalism is competition, and America really worships not God, but capitalism.

The second thread is social media and the on-line persona. For all the good that this decade-old revolution in communication has brought to modern society, there have been generous servings of ill too. In the compression of thought requisite in a Tweet, complex ideas are reduced to imprecise strings of words bereft of context. In tailored social media profiles, digital masks are worn that give incomplete or false impressions of the personality behind the mask. Poor behavior somehow seems more justifiable on-line, as if digital distance was somehow a license to eschew social responsibility. Friendships can be easily and instantly made, but even more rapidly terminated when one party decides to “block” another. Political divisions deepen as people collect around the more flambuoyant digital voices that have mastered the posture of contrived self-importance. Misinformation is given extra buoyancy and inertia as it circles the globe via electrons, freed from the old-fashioned constraints of evidence.

For most of us, our on-line personas are self-crafted caricatures. My profile doesn’t convey all of my personality, let alone those less-than-flattering photos that get quickly deleted from my cell phone. If you carefully read through a digital feed of my life, you are less likely find mention of the many failed job applications than the job that I finally landed.

These caricatures can have a corrosive effect on a number of really important things. For instance, they can erode self esteem, as when I fail to forget that my college friends do also have unflattering photos and failed job applications that I know nothing about in addition to their advertised successes. The digital distance also has the tendency to erode intimacy, a wonderful invention of social species that most of us want in some measure in our lives. Through social media I may gain a window into what a high school aquaintance who lives across the country likes to eat for Sunday brunch, but know nothing about real thoughts, feelings, concerns, and goals that motivate and guide this individual.

Next, anxiety. Lots of us suffer from it. In fact, this recent New York Times article discusses its prevalence as a mental health concern, especially the dramatic increase in anxiety among young people. We live in a time where there is a tremendous amount to be anxious about – health, safety, job, debt, career, terrorism, family members, climate change, rejection, politics, natural disasters, poverty, rapid technological innovation. Sadly, there is even motivation for people in politics or commerce to promote our feelings of anxiety – why not if it will garner votes or lead to more sales?

Looking back it is not difficult to see periods of my life when my anxiety has been more problematic than the annoying background hum that accompanies most of us. Graduate school was a definite one. Coming out was another. These were periods when I grappled with perfectionism. I still have anxiety about such internal matters. But as a token certificate for growing up a little more, there is also now anxiety about my children and family, about where society is headed, about really daunting environmental problems like climate change.

Is it a paradox that we live more comfortable lives than any generation before us, but are so racked with anxiety?

The final thread: self-esteem in the LGBT community. Most of us would describe the process of self-awakening and coming out at cathartic. Having been imprisoned to fear or shame for years or even decades, the act of casting that aside is liberating, an intimately personal act performed on a more public stage. It is a moment of self-determination and self-affirmation. But does the luster wear off?

As a collection of sexual and romantic “misfits”, many of us in the LGBT community have endured difficult and challenging experiences growing up. These could have included harassment, physical or emotional abuse, misunderstanding, violence. We have probably all been scarred, at least a little in the process. Coming into self-awareness notwithstanding, I think many of us carry forward an additional psychological or emotional burden that developed because of those formative experiences.

After coming out, do we carry those burdens into the LGBT community in unhealthy ways? Are we quick to judge or reject others in an unfortunate reversal of the mistreatment we ourselves have received? Can we form friendships and date in healthy ways? Do we avoid the social maladies that hurt others like ghosting (an inexplicable practice of suddenly pretending a date or friend no longer exists) or expecting perfection in a partner (knowing full well of one’s own imperfections)? Will gay men see the harm in endlessly competing with each other for more perfect physical bodies, greater “masculinity” (as if somehow the goal of being a perfect gay man is to nearly emulate a straight man in everything except the gender of your sexual partner), or a meticulously manicured social life designed to induce envy in others and mask an undercurrent of loneliness?

We continue to fight for equality in employment, housing, marriage, and just general treatment by society, especially given the unfortunate political setbacks we currently face in the US. In the midst of those external challenges, are we striving to improve interactions within the LGBT community itself?

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Where does all of this lead? Well, I think I’ve painted a picture of competition and comparison that is largely unhealthy. The excessive focus on competition and outcomes certainly can be debilitating for me. One key to any successful recipe is to keep the ingredients in balance. I wouldn’t want to trade in my ambition or motivation for laziness or ambivalence, but to paraphrase Darth Vader’s warning to the technical mastermind behind the Death Star: “Beware you don’t choke on your ambition”.

It takes a conscious effort to keep the tendency to compete to healthy levels. It takes significant mental labor to keep the unhealthy comparison to others at bay, especially when we are surrounded by messages of inadequacy from a hypercompetitive society. But it is necessary for sanity to remember that self worth isn’t measured externally (either by gay or straight people, or by friends, bosses, or peers for that matter).

On the career front, it is prudent to remember why I’m an academic. I love discovery. I love asking questions. I love thinking about how science can lead to answering such questions. I love being outside and in nature. I love seeing something in nature that perhaps no other person has ever observed. Maybe this is why my hobbies also tend towards being outdoors in my hours off work. I can be a student of biology again – hiking, exploring, photographing, and learning – with less pressure to turn academic study into some sort of business.

On the personal front, I need to remember that I am unique and (usually) likeable. I’m headed forward, and upward (whatever that means), having fun and adventures along the way. That’s enough for me.

Overcoming homophobia

The mass shooting at Orlando two weekends ago hit me pretty hard. For a few days I was frequently on the verge of tears. I don't know any of the victims personally. Moreover, I don't have any friends who know any of the victims, so the sadness was not because of a specific personal connection. Rather it existed largely because a community important to me had been horribly attacked. Other gay people I know were mourning in the days following the attack. It was a tragedy for all of America, but it was also a tragedy specific to the gay community.

For a few days I did a fair amount of reading on-line and listening. Perhaps I engaged too much with the dialogue surrounding the tragedy, because in addition to news about the lives of the victims and expressions of support and sympathy for the LGBT community, there were also vile things said about gay people. For example, a pastor who doesn't live more than a few dozen miles from where I live, wished that evenmore gay people had been killed in the tragedy, citing God’s will for retribution for gays.

Picketing of funerals by extremists, hate speech, internal hatred - these are reminders that homophobia is frequently not very far away. It may be a minority of extremists that publicly vocalize or act on their deep intolerance, but how many in silent America sympathize with their views at least to some extent? How many have decided that the stereotypes they learned long ago about LGBT people are true and won’t bother to challenge those assumptions? How many put more faith in a modern interpretation of a few lines of text in an ancient holy book than in science, sociology, and common sense?

Marriage equality didn't erase the deep antipathy some people hold for sexual minorities. However, we live in an unmistakably different world than I grew up in a few decades ago. Many LGBT people are no longer in the shadows. Coming out, though always difficult, is generally met with more supportive friends and families. Straight allies are willing to publicly show their support for LGBT equality and mourn when gay people suffer injustice. Despite the tragedy at Orlando, and some of the hate speech that ensued, there were some beautiful expressions of love and solidarity too:

Like a powerful speech given by a conservative Utah politician.

Like prayers and acts of solidarity offered by American Muslims and Orthodox Jews.

Like the giant angelic wings built to shield mourners from anti-gay protesters at Orlando funerals.

And like this moving musical tribute to the Pulse victims by two gay singer songwriters.

Our youth

Every couple months it seems, Mormonism and LBGT issues intersect on the public stage and cause another stir.

Last week a spokesperson for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints expressed remorse for LGBT suicides in the Church, a move in response to information circulating in the media about an apparent increase in LGBT Mormon suicides following the Church's policy revisions in November about gay couples and their children.

The November policy announcement by the Church in essence declared firstly that members of the Church in same-sex marriages were apostates, and secondly that children of parents currently (or formerly) in same-sex committed relationships would be denied participation in Church ordinances until they were 18. There are more details, of course, but the salient point here is that the policy change (slipped into a church handbook meant only for leaders and then leaked to social media and the press) was another watershed moment in the history of friction between the LGBT community and the Church. Consternation about and condemnation of the policy was widespread, even among believing non-gay members of the church. At a minimum, several thousand people resigned from Church membership in response to the policy.

Seldom content to let dying positions extinguish peacefully when it comes to gay issues, Church leadership stirred controversy again several weeks ago when Elder Russell M Nelson, now second in seniority in church leadership, gave a speech at BYU Hawaii in which he described a process of deliberation about the policy among church leaders and claimed that the controversial policy was "revelation". That pronouncement seemed to up the stakes: the Church was now elevating the policy to a revelation (meaning it was God's will), and believing Church members unhappy with the policy could no longer readily dismiss it as just a human error by Church leaders, but had to grapple with the possibility that God really had something to do with this unsettling policy.

Finally, over the past week, discussion began circulating about a possible spike in the number of suicides among teenage LGBT Mormons following the November policy announcement by the Church. Active Mormons Wendy and Thomas Montgomery (parents of a gay teen) claimed that as many as 34 individuals have taken their life since the announcement. Names have not been released (understandably), but were collected through private conversations with family members or other individuals.

Last Thursday, through a spokesperson, the Church acknowledged the issue and expressed regret for this tragedy. That was followed by a lengthy article in the Church-owned Deseret News newspaper describing ways that families and church members can provide a more supporting environment for LGBT people. The article cited helpful information, including the evidence-based research produced by the Family Acceptance Project from San Francisco State University.

This is the background. (If you're reading this blog you more likely than not already know much of this news). Now for a few thoughts:

First, it is fair to give the church due praise for acknowledging this important issue. For a church that has often been tone deaf to the needs of the LGBT community, public acknowledgement of this problem is welcome. However, much more can and should be done by the LDS Church if they genuinely have concern for this demographic. Bishops and other church leaders need better training on how to discuss sexuality in their congregations and minister to the needs and concerns of LGBT members. Top LDS leaders need to use much more care in how they talk about LGBT people and their relationships in public. Condescension, demonization, or half truths are unacceptable. Finally, the Church would do well to sincerely apologize for numerous harmful and factually inaccurate statements made in past decades about homosexuality.

Next I acknowledge that it is probably nearly impossible to verify numbers when it comes to LGBT suicides in the Church. The causal factors of suicide are complex and probably can't be known in most cases, let alone attributed to a single specific cause such as friction between gay identity and religious belief. It also appears that we don't have the relevant data about LGBT suicides that would allow anyone to make conclusive statements about trends over time. Anecdotal evidence abounds, and I don't doubt that the evidence in the aggregate points to a problem, but one can only discern trends accurately with carefully-collected data over a sufficient period of time. Moreover, because of deep stigmas around both homosexuality and suicide (especially in Mormon culture), it would be extremely difficult for even a motivated researcher to gather the data in a systematic way that overcomes the various challenges of sampling this demographic.

But as has been pointed out repeatedly, each and every case of suicide is serious and devastating to the families and friends involved. Each death is the loss of a unique individual. That any person affiliated with the church, especially a young person, would feel such despair should be alarming to Church leadership and to members. It should cause great reflection: is there something about our doctrines or practices that are causing real harm to this community of people? With or without exact numbers, we have enough evidence to raise a serious alarm. I know gay Mormons who have contemplated suicide. A gay Mormon friend of a gay Mormon friend ended his life. I myself at times have felt significant despair about my sexuality, including deep despair about the intractable juxtaposition of being a gay man in a straight marriage. The anguish in our community is widespread, and seldom given voice in the Church. When our community or allies speak out, some defenders of the Church respond with insensitivity, seemingly giving more concern to the reputation of an institution than the tragedy of living human beings.

Third, we may not have reliable data on LGBT Mormon suicides in relation to other LGBT communities or non-gay Mormon youth, but we do have data on the general vulnerability of gay youth relative to non-gay youth. For gay youth generally, we know that they have more than a two-fold greater risk of suicide attempts than their straight friends. LGBT youth also experience much higher risk factors than their straight peers. Nationwide (and in Utah) up to about 40% of homeless youth are from the LGBT community (Durso and Gates 2012; Equality Utah). The top reasons for homelessness in these youth include rejection of their sexual orientation by parents, abusive home environments, and simply being kicked out because they were gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender. LGBT youth also tend to experience more bullying than straight youth (CDC 2014).

Fortunately, we also know some important things about how the risk of suicide and other harmful behaviors can be reduced. The Family Acceptance Project has shown that greater acceptance and love from families helps reduce risk of harmful behaviors in LGBT youth (Ryan et al. 2010). Letting youth explore and self identify as they see fit leads to greater happiness in these kids. Letting youth connect with other gay youth and supportive LGBT organizations helps too. A supportive school environment, free of homophobic teasing, also leads to greater well being of youth of all sexual orientations (CDC 2014).

Finally, I think it is vital to address what I feel is one of the root causes of despair sometimes felt in the Mormon LGBT community. As noted, the causes of suicide are complex and appear to often stem from other mental health issues for individuals who end their lives. But the Church bears some responsibility for creating a doctrinal and social environment in which harmful behaviors by LGBT youth or their families can become more likely. I think one of the roots of despair for many in the LGBT Mormon community is the exclusively heterocentric worldview of the Church, and the failure to theologically provide earthly and heavenly roles for LGBT people that are equally as hopeful and exalting as those promised to faithful married heterosexual couples and their families. How can a gay person feel fully connected with the divine when the very deepest of his or her desires are nothing like the heterosexual God of Mormonism? In LDS theology, same-sex relationships are forbidden here on earth and will have no part of heaven. For LGBT Mormons to feel fully accepted by God or the Church community, they have to deny, suppress or ignore a key part of who they are as a human being. They have to willingly forgo one of the key aspects of being human that brings joy. Even same-sex attractions, as promised by LDS leaders, are supposedly to disappear for gay members in the next life. It is no wonder then, as has been pointed out by many people, that a quick exit to the next life may at times seem like an attractive alternative for a gay person willing to do anything to rid himself or herself of same-sex attraction. But no rigid theology is worth a precious life.

The Church cannot address gay Mormon suffering simply through platitudes. Kind words do help; compassionate responses from parents when gay Mormon kids come out can indeed save lives; but some degree of despair will always be part of the overall gay Mormon experience until a more comfortable place can be made in the church for LGBT people. The divide between the living reality of LGBT individuals and the framework of Mormon theology must be narrowed. Whether or not that requires a change in Mormon theology is up to the church and the members to decide, but the loss of these gay Mormon youth - however many the count truely is - and the flood of LGBT members and their allies from the ranks of the Church demands a serious, innovative, and compassionate response from Mormonism. 

References

Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. 2014. Lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender health. Link to source.

Durso LE, Gates GJ. 2012. Serving Our Youth: Findings from a national survey of service providers working with lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender youth who are homeless or at risk of becoming homeless. Los Angeles: The Williams Institute with True Colors Fund and The Palette Fund. Link to study. 

Russell ST, Joyner K. 2001. Adolescent sexual orientation and suicide risk: evidence from a national study. American Journal of Public Health 91:1276-1281.

Ryan C, Russel ST, Huebner D, Diaz R, Sanchez J. 2010. Family acceptance in adolescence and the health of LGBT young adults. Journal of Child and Adolescent Psychiatric Nursing. 4:205-213. Link to study.

It would be better that a millstone ...

It has been a busy weekend with back-to-back scientific conferences in two states. It has been a tiring few days, but in my spare moments I have been thinking a lot about the LDS Church’s new policy towards children of same-sex parents. I’ve absorbed what I could on-line: denunciations of the policy by critics of the Church, stories of families affected by these changes, and even a few defenses of the offensive policy. I’ve tried to assemble some thoughts early this morning, on a flight, and now at the PDX airport.

The new policy targets LGB people and their families in a few ways. First, it establishes that same-sex marriage is an offense of apostasy, and therefore requires mandatory Church discipline. (Note that not even actual serious crimes like child abuse mandate automatic church discipline.) It is a clear message to LGBT Mormons that the Church condemns the relationships that are most likely to bring them happiness. It sends a message to bishops that they cannot just let the nice gay couple in their ward sneak under the radar without punishment. Second, the policy sets out administrative rules for the children of parents that are (or have even been) in same-sex relationships. These children now cannot receive the main saving ordinances of the Church, including baptism, until they are 18. At that time, they cannot not reside in a same-sex household, they must attest that they do not accept the legitimacy of same-sex relationships (including mom or dad’s), and they must have permission from the highest authorities of the Church to then be baptized.

One has to seriously question any notion that this policy is needed to clarify church doctrine. If there is one thing anyone in the United States would know about the Mormons these days it could very well be the fact they are opposed to same-sex marriage. If that wasn’t obvious from Proposition 8, consider that it is repeated ad infinitum in general conference talks, press releases, stories by news media and by faithful members as they post their views on social media with family and friends. In fact, the Church’s anti-gay marriage position may be so well known that it could run the risk of drowning out the message that Mormonism should really focus on bringing to humanity – following Jesus’ example of love and service to transform one’s own soul.

As I’ve thought about the possible motivations for issuing the policy, it is impossible to surmise the actual intentions of Church leaders. Perhaps it is a way for church leadership to assert its relevance into questions of gay marriage and gay relationships that the Church has been solidly losing in the courts and in public discourse. One blogger thought the motivation might be a simple act of flexing institutional power, an assertion that wouldn’t seem inconsistent with other moments in Mormon history. Mostly, it seems very controlling to me. But regardless of the motivations, the potential for harm is great. True, for many Mormon or ex-Mormon individuals and families, this will have little relevance. For others it will result in disruption and conflict. In the end, it serves the interest of the Church only and few else. That is a sad indictment of a religion that claims to speak for God.

In my present circumstances, I don’t think the policy directly affects me or my children. I am still married to my wife (and not in a same-sex relationship) and my spouse and children only partly attend church. But we very well could be affected directly under different circumstances, especially as life evolves into the future. Thursday evening as I read the breaking news flooding over social media as I walked the isles of the supermarket, I felt a lot of anger. I felt hurt again, like an old wound was yet again being opened. Not content to leave us in peace, the Church needed to remind us of our “sin” yet again. The Church needed to remind us that God doesn’t approve of gay relationships yet again.

I do know of former gay Mormons who are much more likely to be impacted. These are friends and others who have previously been in mixed orientation marriages. They have divorced and left the Church, but their still-believing spouses wish to raise the children in Mormonism. These are among the families affected by this policy and these families are not necessarily a small minority in the LGBT community. I could write volumes about how difficult mixed orientation marriages are for everyone involved – straight spouse, gay spouse, and children. My own experience, which is no where from nearing its end, has involved years of navigating sorrow, disappointment, and confusion.

If I could articulate the root of my anger, it might be the repeated insensitivity of LDS church leadership towards the broader LGBT family, and especially towards those of us working through the complexity of mixed orientation marriages. Indeed, it was the doctrine and culture of Mormonism that created an environment in which these marriages were more likely to occur in the first place. Now, our complex and trying circumstances are left scattered over the battlefield Mormonism has waged with the LGBT community and we are largely abandoned. There is no official apology: “We are sorry to have once encouraged you to marry; we apologize for teaching false information about homosexuality; we regret that our doctrine on the family has been so narrow; we are sorry that you felt so much pressure to conform to a heterosexual ideal that doesn’t fit who you are.”

If the Church wanted to really help our families, policies that might further divide families should be the absolute last thing it would consider. It would provide resources to help us through family adjustments or through divorce; it would replace its false teachings about homosexuality and gay relationships with sound research on sexuality; it would plead with God to reveal a healthy and sustainable path for LGBT people within the Church. It would not issue a policy that only makes it harder for some of our families to reach a place of peace and reconciliation.

I don’t believe anymore, and for many reasons, not just because I’m gay. In many ways this chapter of life is over. Yet through extended family and close friends, because of a decade and a half of life dedicated to the Church, and through the cultural imprints that will continue to influence me in even small ways going forward, I won’t ever know a time when I’m not touched in some way by the Church. In many respects that legacy has been positive. But on sexuality, the Church is dead wrong. It owns a long legacy of incorrect teachings about homosexuality and it bears much responsibility for the damage that has caused to individuals and families.

The best outcome now for me is to part peaceably from the Church. I have done so all but officially. But, the Church needs to leave us alone too. If church leadership consistently chooses to turn LGBT issues into a cultural war, they will lose. If you look at the emerging science of sexuality and gay relationships, you will know they have lost. If you get to know a gay person, and see their struggle and humanity, you will know the church has lost. And if you consider the un-severable bond between parents and children, even gay parents and their children, you will know they have lost. Only a fool would think to stand between a mama bear and her cub.

To my LDS friends: please speak up about this policy. Please speak with your local Church leaders or write to Church leaders. Please support the LGBT Mormons and ex-Mormons in your lives, and especially the children of these individuals. 

All over the map

It’s here! By a narrow 5-4 vote at the Supreme Court, gay marriage is now legal across the United States of America. Just 10 years ago, few would have been able to imagine this day.

Gay marriage did not arrive at our doorstep yesterday because of five “rogue” justices in the Supreme Court. In fact, in ruling after ruling over the last couple years, state and federal judges at various levels have overwhelmingly been on the side of marriage equality.

Gay marriage did not come to the country because LGBT people, who only represent 3-4% of all Americans, somehow pushed their minority views on the will of the majority. In fact, well over half of all Americans now support marriage equality, a rapid evolution in public sentiment over the last decade.

Marriage equality did not become the law of the land because there is some conspiracy to destroy “religious freedom”. Churches will carry on as they always have – First Amendment rights intact – but they each have been reminded by the court’s action that their specific moral beliefs cannot be imposed on others through law in a pluralistic society.

Rather, gay marriage came to America, because as slow as we can be to correct historical wrongs, justice usually finds its place in our society. As parochial as we often are in our politics, the greater American tradition we all share stands for equality, community, and respect for diversity.

Marriage equality is now here because many good Americans have come to better know the LGBT people in their lives. Gay people have been coming out, younger and confidently, to their friends and families. Our community has greater visibility than ever before, and in listening to our stories, our straight friends have chosen love and understanding over tired stereotypes and misinformation.

Personally, my awakening came later in life than some of my gay peers; I only came out to family and friends some five years ago. Of course like most gay people, I knew I liked, and even fell in love with, my same sex far back into my youth. But for too long, I feared my sexuality and the judgment that might come my way. My religion, which should have been a place of refuge, told me in subtle and unsubtle ways that homosexuality was evil, perverse, and could only lead to unhappiness. I didn’t confront these false ideas, but instead retreated inside. I married an amazing woman instead of a beautiful man. And so ... complicated as it is, we're doing our best to move forward.

On this weekend of gay pride, my thoughts have been all over the map. I’m truly happy for my gay friends who have, or who will soon, marry. Their relationships are no longer inferior in the eyes of the state. They have all the legal protections and benefits that the government confers on straight married couples. I am happy for the young people, including my sweet children, who are now growing up in a nation that shows more acceptance and more equality than a decade ago. I am happy that coming out today is easier for young gay people and that they have more hope than ever that their futures will be proud and bright.

Because my own path as a gay person has been unconventional, there have been other thoughts and emotions too along this journey. I admit to being a little envious of my gay friends who are married or in relationships. Deep down I want a loving same-sex relationship, the experience of having feelings of romance flow naturally. Observing the excitement of gay couples I wonder a bit: did history pass me by this weekend because I chose to suppress my sexuality for so long?

At a celebration at the California state capital last evening in the hot evening air, the crowd that gathered was reminded of the sacrifice of many LGBT pioneers who helped America reach this historic day. In thinking of my own journey, I’m glad to have participated in a tiny way in this conversation over the last several years. I’m a little embarrassed that I didn’t have enough courage to come out in high school, or college, or even graduate school, to embrace my own truth at a younger age. Perhaps I could have been an example for others who were struggling too. The generation of LGBT people that did come out in the 70s, 80s, and 90s are largely unknown names to me, but they were pioneers who made today’s road much smoother.

These are some of my disparate thoughts at this season in life. I’m not sure how I will feel about all of this in a decade or two. I have even less certainty about what my life will look like. The road over the last five years has been difficult emotionally. But I’ve been immensely fortunate to be on that journey with my spouse, a best friend whose compassion has few bounds. Despite the challenges, there is much more to celebrate than to worry about. All over the map, Americans can celebrate, whatever their circumstances, on this historic occasion. 

Modern-day Saints

I am fortunate. No one has abandoned me because I have come out. I have supportive friends and a loving family. This isn’t necessarily the case, however, for other gay individuals who come from strong religious communities. The ugly thistles of intolerance sometimes sprout most vigorously from deeply religious soils. It is disturbing to hear of instances of mistreatment of gay youth by Mormon parents, and yet strongly encouraging to hear that many other LDS parents are forging the opposite course by loving and supporting their gay children. There are true “Saints” working in LDS communities to help young LGBT people feel supported and loved, even if support from the institutional Mormon Church seems sluggish, qualified, or insincere.

Last Sunday I attended a presentation in Berkeley, California with two of those saints – a former LDS Bishop, Bob Rees, and a Catholic professor at San Francisco State University, Caitlin Ryan. The two have collaborated on the Family Acceptance Project, a research and education initiative to help LGBT youth and families in conservative religious communities. The initiative is evidence-based, meaning that is rests on a solid foundation of research about what will truly help young gay people growing up in conservative religious homes.

Dr. Ryan has worked with the LGBT community and their families for decades, as outlined in this recent New York Times article that discusses her work and the Berkeley “fireside” I attended. Together with Dr. Rees, she works to improve the health of LGBT youth within the framework of Mormon teachings, highlighting for instance, that love and support are not anathema to Mormon doctrine. (That message seems obvious with the Mormon theological emphasis on love and family, but it is clearly a message some Mormons have not embraced with respect to LGBT individuals). More specifically, the Family Acceptance Project demonstrates that specific behaviors by parents (listening to their gay children, letting their LGBT children apply their own labels to themselves), go a long way in helping young people who are sexual orientation or gender identity minorities. With more positive support, risky and harmful behaviors by gay youth such as attempted suicide decline.

One highlight of the two hour meeting was a film about a Mormon family in southern California that went through a personal and family transformation as one of the sons in the family came out as a young teenager. Initially distressed because they couldn’t see how her newly-out son could fit in with Mormon ideals of family and fatherhood, the Mormon parents recount how they chose to love, accept and embrace their son. A preview of the film can be seen here.

Dr. Ryan leads the Family Acceptance Project, but Dr. Rees helped to bring an LDS perspective to the work. Interestingly, I have known Bob for a long time, though we did not reconnect until the Berkeley fireside. He was a faculty member and active Latter-day Saint at the university in central California where I was an undergraduate student. At the time I was a relatively new member of the Church – and gay, of course – but I was deeply in the closet about my sexual orientation. My university was very liberal and there was only a small community of active Latter-day Saints who were students on campus. I interacted with Bob somewhat in his (informal) capacity as a mentor of us LDS students and in his interfaith work in the broader community. Bob was a humanities professor (while I was an undergraduate mostly interested in the sciences), but he kindly reviewed some poems I had written at the time. Somewhere I believe I still have copies of those poems – with his encouraging remarks and suggestions handwritten next to my terrible poetry.

For me it was a missed opportunity to talk with Bob about my concerns and fears as a young gay person while I was in college. I probably didn’t know at the time that he had worked with many gay students as a bishop at UCLA prior to coming north to my university. I may not have known much about his personal transformation from holding significant homophobic views about LGBT people to being a compassionate advocate for gay individuals in the Mormon Church. To the extent that I knew of his work with gay Mormons, I was really in no position back then to try to accept my sexuality as a healthy and valued piece of the whole me.

Young LGBT Mormons today have the blessing of modern-day Saints who advocate – through word and action – on their behalf. As more and more Mormons decide to be enlightened by the research and personal journeys of these Saints like Caitlin and Bob, the LDS Church will become a better and healthier community for all. 

First love

Falling in love is sweet and innocent, awkward and unnerving, invigorating and the most natural feeling in the world. When it happens for the first time, I’m sure that all the emotions that come flooding into a young person are similar whether that person is gay or straight, but I think often the context is very different for sexual minorities. Imagine a young gay teen falling in love 5, 10 or 15 years ago, or even today. Will this young person, still unsure of why he or she feels differently from their peers, have had a chance to really understand and accept their sexuality by the time the first experience of same sex love occurs?

My first time falling in love was a rollercoaster of friendship and confusion and disaster. Here is that story.

I was a very shy kid growing up, a definite introvert. Academics interested me more than social activities, athletics, or friendships. But at least as early as junior high school my attraction to males started to be tangible. I took notice of other guys, and began to feel elements of sexual and emotional attraction. Because I could usually pass as “straight” at school, I managed to mostly escape the teasing and bullying that so often befalls gay and transgender youth. I don’t recall ever being the target of overt homophobia, but at the same time I definitely absorbed the ever-present message that being gay was equivalent to social suicide. Growing up it was more or less my highest priority to keep my same-sex attractions secret.

Until high school I generally had few close friends. My sophomore year however, I started to develop some of my first close friendships. A half dozen guys and girls, we met in a history class where we had an unconventional and inspiring teacher. I began to hang out with my new group of intellectually-inclined friends and do things becoming of our newly-discovered teenage omniscience: talk about forming rock bands and probe the bottomless well of sarcasm.

With the growth of these new friendships, I started to feel strongly at that point in my life that I really wanted a best friend. Two guys in this small circle of friends, it seemed, were already becoming best friends. Except for a close friend from early elementary school, this was something I lacked. With time I became close with PJ, a guy who was not part of that original circle that began in my sophomore year. PJ was one year younger than me, but he was really my superior in many ways, especially academically. I looked up to him. He was intelligent, independent, and wildly ambitious.

Over the course of a few months we became really close friends. We shared interests in biology, music and school. The summer between my junior and senior years PJ and I spent time together almost every day. We went swimming, hiking, and exploring at the beach. We bonded to a degree that I had not experienced in life before. Whereas I was (and often remain) reflexively shy in larger groups, I loved the one-on-one interactions. In fact, having a best friend was the most incredible thing to me up to that point in life.

An interesting experience with PJ involved an early connection to Mormonism, a worldview that would later shape many of my decisions over the next decade and a half and have a significant effect on how I interacted with my sexuality.

Both PJ and I were interested in two LDS girls at our high school who were in my graduating class. They came from very devout and conservative Mormon homes. These young women were athletic, intelligent, and pretty. In fact, MM, the girl that PJ liked, would go on to become the homecoming queen of my high school during my senior year. PS, the girl that I liked, was attractive and sweet. PJ’s love for his Mormon crush, as far as I knew, was genuine and deep. But if there is any objective way to quantify romantic intensity, I’m sure that my level of interest in my Mormon “crush” was much more benign. I “liked” PS on and off for perhaps 6 years growing up, but I doubt there was a whole lot of intensity to those feelings.

True to his ambition and intensity, PJ concocted a plan for the ultimate double date towards the beginning of my senior year: the two non-Mormon boys and the two Mormon girls would have the perfect dinner together and then see the band U2 in concert.

PJ took the lead on preparations for the whole night and I was more than thrilled to be participating in such a once-in-a-lifetime event with my best friend. PJ selected the restaurant and went out of his way to let the staff know that it was a special night. The concert part of our date was pretty incredible. For starters, somehow PJ had secured floor seats in a massive stadium that was hosting the world’s most popular band at the time. Of course I loved the music, and during one of the band’s best songs, I recall looking behind me to see some of the upper tiers of the stadium visibly moving (earthquake shocks it must have been) as the crowd jumped to the song in unison.

The most amazing part of the evening, technically, was that we somehow managed to obtain the good graces of two sets of conservative Mormon parents enough to let their daughters attend this concert, 45 minutes away from home, with two non-Mormon teenage boys. The night went without hitch of course, because despite being non-Mormon heathens, we were still in reality two good boys. I’m sure also that the threat of the wrath of God hung over us that night. But, unbeknownst to everyone, that wasn’t really needed for me. I was gay, the safest date a young Mormon girl could ask for. I was in love with PJ.

One of the things I have learned over the last few years since coming out is how my emotional attractions are an integral component of my sexuality. I have had many healthy platonic friendships with men, but a few times in life I have developed very strong emotional connections to other guys. This friend, PJ, was an early and profound example to me that the feelings of love we are capable of having for another person really constitute a broad spectrum of attractions. At the age of 17, I believed (or at least told myself) that I just wanted a best friend; now I know that I naturally wanted emotional intimacy with another human being. Without self or societal acceptance, how can the closeted young person properly interpret those blossoming romantic feelings?

When I try to think back on what endeared me to PJ, it was not really his physical looks. He wasn’t unattractive, but his looks were secondary to other feelings I had for him. He was incredibly intelligent and ambitious. He expanded my horizons intellectually and challenged me to come out of my introverted shell. Though we lost contact after high school, I learned that he went to college at one of most prestigious universities in the US. I ran into his name from time to time (or looked him up) and found out that he later earned a PhD and was on track for a very successful career. The teenage PJ also had a streak of arrogance - which today I would likely find unattractive - but at that time this quality probably drew him to me also, because it meant I was part of his team, allowing a special connection to him shared with practically no one else.

I don’t know exactly why PJ was interested in my friendship. I think it started, in part, because he himself had few close friends. To him, I may have been the kind of malleable friend who is perfect for ambitious people in need of an audience. His interests were easily my interests and I was willing to go along on any adventure if it involved his company. If he gained a disciple of sorts and rides in my car from time to time, I in turn, benefited from the emotional comfort of a strong new friendship.

Sunset at one of our beach spots.

Like most first loves, this one ended, but it ended pretty badly for me. Because my attractions for PJ clearly ran deeper than a close friendship, over time I found myself wanting more from the relationship. I wanted to be around him more often, even when we already spent hours together, and I wanted to have a deeper emotional connection. I was jealous, for example, of his interest in his Mormon crush, even though she didn’t seem to reciprocate his feelings. Soon I began to smother the friendship we had formed. PJ, confused and frustrated, began to withdraw from me. In turn, I struggled immensely with feelings of insecurity, sadness and loss. I simply couldn’t tell PJ what was going on. I just wasn’t ready to be honest with anyone, even myself, about my sexuality. There was nothing in my limited universe to indicate that my feelings for a guy were normal and healthy, and I had no one I was comfortable turning to.

After a few months struggling through a friendship, PJ determined that we could no longer be friends. He suspected I was gay, I found out, when I secretly read some of his journal. He had confided with a counselor at school who suggested as much. I was crushed and terrified when I learned this. Understandably, the invasion of his privacy only exacerbated the difficulties between us. Whether homophobia had any role in driving him away, I do not know, but it was clear that we wanted different things out of the relationship and I was an emotional mess.

It has been two decades since PJ and I last had a conversation. For years after high school he would appear in my dreams. Most of those dreams revolved around the same theme – we would to one degree or another become reconciled. We would be friends again. He would accept and forgive me. Though our new friendship in those dreams was always more constrained than what we experienced in high school, I took comfort in them because of the reconciliation. These dreams pretty much ended a few years ago, but it amazes me that I had them for such a long period of time.

In large measure this really difficult emotional experience during high school probably pushed me into the next chapter in my life, an affiliation with Mormonism. In the wake of a disaster mostly of my own creation, I needed something to guide me and support my struggling self. This came from well-intentioned Mormon high school friends who invited me to their activities and befriended me. They were attractive, kind, intelligent and successful. Ever interested in the “truth”, I was intrigued by an ideology that talked so much about truth and striving for excellence. After several months learning about the religion, I joined the Church after high school. Mormonism would turn out to have a profound negative effect on my journey as a gay person, but it also brought many positive things into my life during the years I was an active member.

What have I learned from falling in love years ago to my straight best friend and from experiences since? First, I gained an important reference point for understanding the depth and scope of my attractions. Homosexuality is not just about sex, but like any manifestation of sexuality, it is about the range of connections that two individuals can share. Though the nature and magnitude of feelings were unreciprocated, I felt for a time that PJ was my partner. And I think that consciously or subconsciously, I have desired to have that depth of connection with another person for many years.

Second, I’ve learned a little that falling in love can bring out some of the best and worst tendencies we possess as individuals. In our better moments, love serves as a motivation to put off our own interests in order to meet the needs and expectations of others. We sacrifice and adapt working together. We learn and we teach each other in relationships. We grow the small single-occupancy universes we inhabit a little more to encompass two souls.

Yet, in rendering us vulnerable to another person, love can also summon our insecurities like few other events. In the process of becoming vulnerable, we hand someone else our heart and expect that they will know what to do in order to treat it right. Sometimes, our feelings of self worth can get a little too tied up in how our romantic partner views and treats us. We might struggle with feelings of rejection when the intensity of feelings is not reciprocated. In the case of my high school love, I wanted the approval of an old friend for many years during dreams I had while deep in the closet. Perhaps it is a coincidence that the dreams more or less ended – the real reconciliation occurred - when that approval eventually came from within after coming out and accepting myself as gay. Perhaps not.