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.

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. 

Disarm

Sunday evening I attended a fireside given by Carol Lynn Pearson at the LDS Institute in Berkeley. A Mormon poet and speaker who was married to a gay man before his death, she is essentially the godmother of the Mormon LGBT community. In many ways I don’t consider myself Mormon any longer, but the Church was an important part of my life for many years and for both good and bad, it has left deep influences on me.

Carol Lynn read from, and spoke about, a short book she produced recently that is an allegory for the gay person who travels through Mormonism. Her allegory was structured after the hero myth articulated in literature from ancient times to the present. Concisely, the myth centers around the hero who leaves his or her tribe on a journey of discovery. Propelled internally to seek something more, the hero leaves the tribe for an unknown destination. Arriving in an unfamiliar place, he or she struggles and must choose to confront self doubt – the voices of defeat.

One symbol of the struggle is the sword – a weapon that could either be turned on oneself for destruction or that could be used to destroy the self doubt that brings darkness. Though not all people on the journey will necessarily gain the liberating self confidence they need, those that pass successfully through their own personal transformation could then chose to return to their tribe of origin to share their new understanding. The hero was transformed, and members of the tribe, also each on their own journeys of enlightenment, could be transformed too.

I’d like to share two points that impressed me from Sister Pearson’s words. The first was a simple concept – it was her advice that LGBT people strive to be so confident in their path, so fully at peace with themselves that others around them, no matter their views on sexuality, could not help but be impressed. In essence, to help change the culture of the tribe, the gay messengers have to be completely transformed themselves.

Her second point, surely more difficult than the first, was that to be successful the hero needs to return to the tribe disarmed. This was an admonition for forgiveness, for peace with those who may have intentionally (or unintentionally) wounded another. I think most gay Mormons could rightly say that they have been wounded by a Church (and a society) that at times acts more as an enemy than a refuge. But for the wounded gay person to find happiness and wholeness, forgiveness is required. 

I confess that right now I am not yet at such a place with respect to the Church. Perhaps I feel betrayed in a sense (and not just by sexuality, but by conflicts with history and science too). I feel sad that Church culture and doctrine are still such an unhealthy place for many gay Mormons. But moving beyond those negative feelings it is a worthy goal and the direction I want to go over time. When the sword of bitterness and hostility is tossed aside, again the tribe cannot but be impressed with who the gay hero really is.   

As I left the fireside meeting Sunday evening and began to browse social media on my phone, I quickly saw that two good gay Mormon friends of mine had just become engaged to be married. Since they’ve been dating seriously for several years, that wasn’t unexpected, but learning of the news really filled me with happiness for them. As we’ve talked over the years, I’ve come to know some about their own personal struggles of self acceptance, family acceptance and journey through Mormonism. So, it is wonderful to see them in a place of happiness and fulfillment. I feel a tinge of jealousy too when I learn such news - a happy same-sex relationship is a significant dream of mine. But I mostly feel happiness for my good friends, and I wish them the very best in the future.

As Carol Lynn noted Sunday evening, our tribe (Mormonism) doesn’t make it easy for us. Almost simultaneously coming out as gay, leaving the Church, navigating raw emotional experiences, and working through changing realities in a mixed orientation marriage is probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done. In many ways gay people are not heroes. We are ordinary people with the same fears and need for love and acceptance as anyone else. But we go through an unusual journey, one not shared by most people in the world. To pass through that journey, emerging with greater self acceptance, maybe a partner at one’s side, and love in one’s heart is the best possible outcome for LGBT Mormons. 

This husband IS gay

Discussion of mixed orientation marriages – marriages where one partner is straight and the other is gay or bisexual – has sort of exploded on-line lately in at least part of the Mormon community. Mostly this appears to have been prompted by a show that will air by The Learning Channel this weekend titled “My Husband’s Not Gay”. The program features several gay Mormon men who are in straight marriages and a single same-sex attracted Mormon who wants to marry a woman. Perhaps co-incidentally, NPR also recently featured an interview with a gay Christian pastor recently married to a straight woman.

Will straight marriages work for most gay people? Image source

I have mixed feelings about this topic. For readers not familiar with me personally, or some of my older posts on this blog, a bit of context is warranted. I’m presently in a mixed orientation marriage (MOM) myself. I’m gay, but I married heterosexually over a decade ago. I was deeply active in Mormonism at the time. While we were still dating, I told my wife a little (unfortunately way too little!) about my attractions to other men, but both of us had only a superficial understanding of homosexuality at the time. We didn’t discuss the topic much more and we got married. Though I knew since my teenage years that I liked guys, acting on those feelings in any capacity was strictly forbidden in the LDS Church. Also, growing up I never experienced anything close to a same-sex relationship – something that probably would have helped me figure things at an earlier age. Around the time I was married, I wondered if my same-sex feelings might change in the future. I just didn’t know, but it sure would have lifted a huge psychological burden. I had had a lot of shame about my sexuality for a long time. Why did I marry? The reasons were several and included everything from finding someone who was (and is) a wonderful friend and partner, to believing that I needed to marry to show my complete obedience to God. It also should be mentioned that my Mormon singles congregation at the time was bombarded repeatedly with well-meaning, but persistent, encouragement to get married! That’s supposedly what God wants Mormons to do.

I came out as gay a little over four years ago. Before that time, however, my beliefs in orthodox Mormonism were already fading. Today, I’m in a very different place spiritually. I now believe that Mormonism is deeply wrong about LGBT people. Its doctrines on same-sex attraction are not consistent with common sense, nor with sociological research. Many Mormon leaders and church members have treated LGBT people terribly in the past. Today the official stance has softened, but homophobia persists culturally in the Church, and the doctrine essentially leaves few fulfilling options for most gay people.

So, to my mixed feelings on MOMs. I think that on balance it is positive that mixed orientation marriages are being discussed publicly. Over the last few years, in the faithful Mormon community there have been a number of gay or bisexual men who have come out in a very public way about their heterosexual marriages. We can and should be respectful of the personal choices of some gay people to marry the opposite sex. Some of these couples married after discussing homosexuality with their future partners much more than I ever did; that honesty and openness can only be positive for all involved. The recent TLC show has generated a storm of opinions, including a petition to cancel the show. I just don’t agree; while I understand the frustration from gay people who are tired of being pushed around by society, I think having the discussion is healthier than keeping the existence of mixed orientation marriages in the dark.

I also recognize that human beings are complex and all the various combinations of belief, experience, sexuality, and personality make us unique. We can create categories that do an OK job of describing people as a whole – gay, bisexual, straight – but people are still very diverse and none of us fit perfectly into any constructed box. Some gay people are going to be very comfortable and happy marrying someone of the opposite sex. That option may be a very good one for many bisexuals. It is much easier socially, for sure, especially in the past when bigotry against gay people was more pervasive. It is easier to have children in opposite sex relationships. A straight marriage may make family relationships more harmonious.

But, there are a lot of facets to this phenomenon, not just happily-ever-after straight-married gay Mormons. From my own experiences, those of friends and acquaintances I’ve made since coming out, and some scholarly data on MOMs, there are many aspects that make me uncomfortable.

First, is the uncomfortable truth of statistics. Although precise estimates may not exist, most mixed orientation marriages end in divorce. This is true in the broader US population and of recently-surveyed gay Mormons. Estimates of divorce in MOMs range from about 50-85%, which is much higher than divorce rates among first marriages in the overall population. John Dehlin, a Mormon researcher, has compiled a summary of his work on same-sex attraction and MOMs among LGBT Mormons. His findings suggest that MOM divorce rates are 2-3 times higher than that broader population, and that individuals in MOMs tend to have a lower quality of life than gay people in same-sex relationships.

For however long a mixed orientation marriage lasts, it can be emotionally difficult. I wrote at length a few years ago about intimacy (not just sexual intimacy) in an MOM. The emotional difficulties in such a marriage may have nothing to do with the partners – both can be fantastic people – it is just that they are trying to fit themselves into a situation that isn’t quite right for them. For the gay spouse especially, straight marriage can just be a foreign place emotionally.

Separation is not an easy road. It is a very difficult process for all involved – straight spouse, gay spouse, children and extended family. These divorces can have a sort of unique sadness associated with them. Often the spouses still deeply love each other and are still great friends. But their marriages miss enough of the emotional, sexual, and physical connection that they cannot persist indefinitely.

For the small percentage of mixed orientation marriages that last long-term, the sociological research shows that several factors help them do so. First, in the surviving marriages, the same-sex attracted spouse is often bisexual, not strictly same-sex attracted. Secondly, many of these marriages become open marriages where one or both partners may have extra-marital relationships. I assume that arrangement may work for some couples, but it is not what many want over the long-term, and it is wholly incompatible with certain religions like Mormonism.

The second point I feel strongly about is how it seems precarious to ground so much of a marriage decision on religious tenets. I’m not talking about the religious tenets of love, forgiveness, or sacrifice. Rather, I’m talking about hard-line interpretations of ancient texts that claim to know more about human sexuality than modern science. Of the several mixed orientation couples that I have met (or know about), I can think of only two marriages that may not have been motivated initially in largepart by religious views. From my own experience, I know that spiritual beliefs can change over time. In the case of Mormonism – with its very unique worldviews and troubled history – a future change in belief can really mean a large change in one’s whole life. Maybe it took me too long to really learn this, but we marry a person, not tenets, and to mix the two inextricably can lead to pain down the road.

Third, I’m uncomfortable with the positive spin sometimes given to MOMs, because I can’t shake the impression that many of these marriages are fueled to some degree by homophobia. To illustrate, in both the NPR piece and among some of the publicly-out married gay Mormons, there is a trend that many of these men refuse to identify as gay. Acronyms like SGA (“same-gender attracted”) are invented, and labels are eschewed. Rather than identify as gay or bisexual and thereby emphasize the truth that gay behaviors and gay choices come in all flavors, many of these individuals tend to demonize the “gay lifestyle”. Most fundamentally damaging, I think, is the broader message that seems to be foundational to mixed orientation marriage advocacy: gay relationships are just inferior to straight ones. The research I’ve seen doesn’t support that belief.

I’m not wholly reading into the minds of others here. I know unequivocally that homophobia played some role in my decision to get married heterosexually years ago. (It certainly was not the only factor). One of my major motivations to be married was a religious belief that that life path was going to be most acceptable to God. If there were out and accepted gay couples in my church congregations years ago, would I have still have thought that being single or marrying a woman were my only future choices?

Fourth, the precedent. The positive side of stories like the couples in the TLC show is that young people today see that they have options. Because we discuss homosexuality as a society more than ever before, young people can find examples of gay people married to each other, gay people married to straight people, polyamorous relationships, etc. But there can be a heavy negative side too. MOMs can be used by religiously-motivated parents or church leaders to pressure young gay people into heterosexual relationships. They just don’t need the pressure! Statistically, a mixed orientation won’t work for most young gay people. If they are of the minority group that will eventually flourish in an MOM, let them discover that on their own journey in their own time frame!

Finally, I have to ask about the long haul. For the young gay/bisexual Mormons in straight marriages now, what will be of their futures? Where will the outspoken advocates of MOMs be in 10, 20 or 40 years? Personally, I thought I would never come out as long as I lived. But once I accepted my sexuality, I realized gay people have other options and that shifted the psychological dynamic of my marriage. We are disregarding a lot of common sense to think that MOMs are no big deal. If sexual orientation isn’t that important in the decision to marry, why aren’t millions of straight people actively looking for same-sex partners? (By the way, I think that is totally fine, but the fact that it is almost non-existent speaks volumes about the fact that homophobia drives a lot of the pressure for gay people to marry heterosexually.)

In summary, I think we can respect the individual choices of people in mixed orientation marriages, without supporting the institutional homophobia that enables and sometimes encourages gay people to enter into these marriages in the first place. This husband IS gay, and yours might be too.

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.

My only rejoinder is that I've done my best

Coming out is supposed to be a wonderful liberating event, and in many ways it has been. I'm so happy to be myself. But the last three years of my life have been immensely challenging too. I try to stay generally positive on this blog, yet it would be inaccurate to ignore the negative.

My life feels like it is being turned upside down recently, with not much indication that the near future will be much improved. There have been moves and job changes, periods of physical separation from my family, conversations, tough conversations, more conversations, a few close individuals who are angry with me, my broken heart, sorrow that I have hurt my wife, concern for my children, confusion, uncertainty about my career, loneliness.

I'm torn between different visions for my life, lost on a map that is full of courses but almost no details. I'm torn between what my wife wants and what I yearn for deep down. I can't give what others can give to their marriages, but I love my wife so deeply as a friend and as the amazing person that she is. In no way do I want to be a cause of her sorrow, but I want so much to follow my heart, to feel whole, to be myself. I don't know where I am headed in my career. I finished up a very successful term position recently, but my current work feels less rewarding. I don't even have a place that really feels like home anymore. I count 9 places I've slept in 3 states in the last 2 months and that doesn't include camping.

This morning I felt utterly defeated. I probably lost a chance for romance with someone I've become very close to. I had put so much energy into hoping that something would work out for us in the future. He was my first real gay friend (besides my sister), the first stranger I reached out to with some trepidation when I was first coming out and wanted to meet gay people. I fell into feelings for him almost instantly, unexpectedly. He was so integral to my coming out experience, such a positive example of acceptance of himself and of doing his best in a mixed orientation marriage. From practically the very beginning, I talked openly with my wife about these feelings and what occurred in our relationship over time. Emotionally I became very attached - and that process taught me how much emotional attraction is an integral part of my sexuality. I waited and waited as we both had a lot to figure out. I fell into something so utterly natural for me as a gay person and yet it caused so much sorrow for my wife to be a witness to all that unfolded.

Some days I get caught up in the swirl of these emotions of sadness and loss and feel so stuck. In those moments I feel an expectation to make all of the "right" decisions. But this is such an unpredictable journey that I can't keep up with it all. I'm colliding often with my own personal limits. I want to have happy children, a wonderful same-sex relationship, an enduring deep friendship with my spouse who finds comfort in moving on, friends who are proud of me and my choices, a decent job where I contribute meaningfully to the world, and some time for hobbies to enrich my life. But currently it feels like I am barely getting by. My intentions and hard work carry me a ways into positive territory, but the momentum of my past, my confusion, my failings, keep moving me back onto challenging ground.

To have a broken heart, to break another's heart, to feel deep sadness about both - I haven't experienced anything unique that almost every other human will experience. Yet all of these challenges seem to have fallen on me at once. I brought them upon myself though, and when sympathy is in short supply I must acknowledge that I'm the main cause of the mess. My only rejoinder when the spotlight is turned on my life is that I've honestly tried my absolute best at every turn. I can't wait for sunnier days again.

Eight greats about being gay

1. Currently, opportunities for LGB people to embrace and celebrate their identities in western society are probably greater than at any time in the past. We still have a ways to go for full equality and dignified treatment across all segments of society, but the greater openness and acceptance of homosexuality in contemporary society is unmistakable and remarkable.

2. I am not constrained by traditional western concepts of gender. In many ways, my personality is consistent with mainstream American concepts of masculinity, yet I am free to be tender, nerdy, sweet, spacey, apathetic about football, or to be anything else I am comfortable with. Obviously straight men are free to be whatever they want to be as well, but there is often pressure in the heterosexual male world to act in ways that meet certain norms.

3. I really value my close male friendships. Friendships have almost exclusively been the way for me to experience intimacy with male peers, so they have long been an important part of fulfilling some of my homosexual emotional needs. I hope that what I offer my close friends reflects how important those relationships are to me.

4. I usually feel very comfortable around my closer female friends and co-workers. I don’t know how many straight men have trouble being close friends with women, however I suppose I have little or none of the sexual or romantic tension that can arise sometimes in those relationships for straight men.

5. I appreciate the male body. I will just leave it at that.

6. I can celebrate my uniqueness. Being gay is not all that common and it is one way in which I stand out.

7. By being gay, I have a way to empathize with the underdog. There have been a lot of challenging things about being gay in my life, especially while growing up and coming to terms with my sexuality. While feeling a little bit inadequate isn’t always the best feeling, it usually prompts me to work extra hard. It is hard to defeat hard work.

8. I feel best being myself. The closet sucks. Having a secret identity (unless you get paid for it) sucks. Loathing something about yourself (which you are powerless to change) is no way to run a life. I don’t know when or how I acquired my sexuality, but I am pretty sure it is here to say. I am out now and happy when I am comfortable with my identity.

Seattle pride

Two weekends, two pride parades. I don’t want to give the impression that I am on some sort of tour; it just happened to be convenient to attend pride in Seattle in coordination with family visits last weekend. My oldest son (10 yrs old) also attended the parade and a breakfast gathering of gay Mormons held before hand. I didn’t do any explaining prior to the parade, but he is a smart kid and must have answered any imperative questions for himself.  I explained that dad is gay earlier in the year. This news he took in stride. At the parade, he seemed most excited to collect the myriad free items tossed into the crowd.

Pride parades evolved in the aftermath of the Stonewall riots that took place in New York 43 years ago. While the riots were a violent assertion of gay frustration and pride, today’s parades are peaceful (if sometimes boisterous and highly suggestive) celebrations with an eclectic mix of corporatism, music, dancing, politics and a lot of color. In my ignorance about almost all things gay for such a long time, I had no knowledge of the events that occurred at Stonewall until very recently. I found this excellent American Experience program on-line and highly recommend it for some historical perspective.

Alone

Today
It may seem like I've lost it all
But I've won peace with me
And right now that seems
Like the most important gain.

This
Journey I'm taking within may appear
Incomprehensible to you
Who have never acted on stage
With a script not written for you.

Alone
I notice it is a beautiful spring day
The river flows swiftly
Sweet blossoms are bursting
The air is warmer than it has been in many months.

Matters
Of confusion and emptiness
Will be resolved with time
By God or by nature, either way.
As me alone, I am better for each of you.

Outside and inside

I often feel like a little bit of an outsider no matter where I am. I usually spend most of my time around straight people though I am gay. I’ve only recently begun spending time with gay people, but I’ve already noticed that I’m definitely going to have more to talk about with gay guys who like things like backpacking and soccer and science more than things like musicals. I’m usually drawn to nerdy things, but I also am bothered by the ‘I’ve got it all figured out’ attitude that some very learned people seem to carry around with them. I like spirituality and contemplation, but I definitely feel like an outsider in the LDS Church these days since I am generally more liberal, more analytical, and more personal in my religious expressions than the Church’s median cultural environment.

This is definitely not all bad. I really like the fact that I can fit in to some degree with people in different social circles. I learn from others. And I gain a broader perspective by observing diverse groups of people. Perhaps all this encourages me to be a moderate in many areas of life: politically, socially, and spiritually. But sometimes I wish I could fit in more, that I could create deeper connections with people that I admire. It is very rare that I have felt I am on exactly the same page as someone else.

Perhaps the fractured nature of my social interactions mirrors the person inside me. My identities are varied and don’t all fit together like one of those cute little puzzles that my daughter is a whiz at. These identities include being a scientist, being an outdoors enthusiast, being a husband and father, being gay and being a Latter-day Saint. These disparate identities involve some conflicts. I presently don’t know how to satisfactorily reconcile one of these conflicts (the gay-husband conflict), though by distancing myself from the Church I have felt more at peace with the friction generated by being gay and LDS and by being  LDS and a scientist.

I’ve lived with the existence of several identity conflicts for some time, but recently I have wanted more resolution. In a way, the conflicts have left me exhausted. I would like to feel that I am a relatively whole and integrated person, that the important pieces of who I am do not significantly abrade each other. I’d also like to be perceived by others with a reasonable degree of constancy – for example, that those who know I am LDS also know that I am gay, and that those who know I am gay also know that I value the ideal of being a good father. Now that I am open about my sexuality, maybe people will have a more uniform view of who I am, and also be able to see all of the major sides of my personality. However, I also need to be prepared to accept that greater resolution of the conflict between my disparate identities may involve some uncomfortable changes or some compromises. These are presently unknowable aspects of the future. Being more open may also put me in some uncomfortable (or possibly unsafe) situations, but my friends and family have been very supportive so far.

Where did all this trouble come from? How did I get to this place, a place where I have been reasonably successful at much of what I’ve attempted to accomplish in life, but a place where I feel very divided and uneasy internally?

Here are a couple of speculations that may characterize a lot of gays (like myself) who have spent a significant amount of time suppressing their sexuality:

Many gays learn to become masters at compartmentalizing different features of their lives, experts at managing multiple realities or multiple versions of their life story. In most individuals this tendency develops fairly early in life, as soon as it is realized that (1) I am different from others of the same gender around me, and (2) who I am attracted to is going to cause me ridicule, harm, or alienation. Many young gay people quickly learn to hide the attractions, mask or avoid any behaviors that might clue someone into the existence of the attractions, and essentially begin the process of living a separate external reality from an internal identity. Individuals might learn to avoid certain mannerisms that are stereotypically associated with being gay. I remember worrying for a long time that people might think I was gay because of the tone of my voice, especially when I heard it on the answering machine and it sounded so different from what it sounds like to me!

Separating the external and internal identities requires vigilance in order to keep hiding the sexual orientation and, in an interesting way, can lead to a very admirable degree of self control. But there are clearly negative effects. To manage the dual identities, some people may resort to deception. I rarely, if ever, had to lie about my sexuality (because I can only recall one time in college when I was ever directly confronted about being gay), but I certainly was not honest in the sense of telling the whole story. One “advantage” of becoming married was that I had a nearly unassailable shield from being perceived as gay; that perspective seems pathetic now, but it was reflective of my desperate attempts to dissociate myself from anything gay years ago. When I was around others who made homophobic comments, I acted the part by laughing along, though anyone who was observant enough probably could have seen that I didn’t laugh as intensely or genuinely as others. These were all manifestations of deception that I regret.

There are more subtle but potentially equally damaging effects of living dual identities to repress homosexuality. One is the inability to draw close to others emotionally. Unless gay persons can feel safe revealing their sexual identity to trusted individuals, there will always be at least some barriers in terms of feeling comfortable and safe around others. A very core part of the self is decidedly off-limits emotionally; for instance, it cannot be a source of shared vulnerability that helps bind two caring souls together. After coming out, it is possible that this deficiency will linger for some time in developing or existing relationships, because a gay person has developed a pattern of keeping a significant part of who they are secret.

Another potentially damaging effect of dual identities is the toll that suppression can take on self esteem. There is the failure to arrive at internal peace and mature towards confidence in oneself. There is little faith in the internal self because the mind is set on confirmation of the constructed external identity. There may be a very cancerous feeling that something about you is wrong or undesirable or debilitating, but without any solution or reprieve.

Many gays eventually break this uncomfortable duality, but ages at which this is accomplished vary tremendously and there are undoubtedly some who go to their grave never letting a single soul know that they were gay. I really admire those who are able to accept their sexuality at a younger age than me! Today I think many gays are breaking this duality at an earlier age than ever before, because society is finally beginning to develop a more mature, thoughtful and respectful view of the homosexual experience.

“Coming out” involves the joining of these fragmented pieces, an affirmative decision to let external appearances flow from internal identity. Coming out can expose the difficult identity conflicts that a gay person may have accumulated over the years. While I am much happier presently because I no longer feel compelled to hide my sexuality from those close to me, trying to incorporate my newly found perspectives into my broader worldview has brought other conflicts to the forefront of my mind. In an almost tangible way I wrestle with these daily. I still have lots to do in order to feel reasonably integrated, whole and complete. My hope is that, for my own happiness, I can reach a place where identities do not significantly clash, and that, for the well being of close to me, I can do so in ways that minimize negative impacts on others. These goals often seem irreconcilable, but I have to try. 

my flower unfurls

Late last year, something tipped the long-standing balance between who I am inside (a gay man) and who I’m seen as from the outside (a married straight man).  The balance over the years was tenuous at times but it served the expectations of a religious worldview that simply had no place for anything other than heterosexuality.  For years, critical associates knew the secret of my gayness, but in my acquiescence to shame I still almost completely kept my sexual orientation to myself.  The excuses for the suppression were varied: My sexuality was no-one’s business; I didn’t want to expose my wife to the potential for probing questions or unenlightened judgment from others; I didn’t need any persecution that might come my way from the insensitive and uninformed; I believed in the Church paradigm that homosexuality was sinful and un-natural.
 
Unfortunately what resulted from these excuses was the inability to reconcile my sexuality with the other parts of who I am as a person.  There was internal exploration that needed to occur and I had been putting it off for a long time.  In keeping my sexual orientation hidden, I subtly reinforced the notion that it was inherently shameful and embarrassing.  There was no empirical evidence for this, just societal momentum – momentum that swept me along leaving my critical thinking mind behind.  So late last year, it was time for me to confront the very thing that I was afraid to learn about.  It was time to stop avoiding the literature that dealt with homosexuality.  It was time for me to be comfortable with being gay.  It was time for a few more petals in the flower of my personality to unfurl.

I turned to the internet and for weeks devoured videos, blogs, and other pages for sometimes hours during the evening.  My first surprise was the abundance of blogs by gay Mormons.  There were gay Mormons everywhere (!) (well mostly in the western US of course) and they presented a diversity of viewpoints, from those who still believed in the doctrine but wanted to be open about their sexuality to those who were more distant from the Church.  I wanted to know their stories and all of these new perspectives.  What also struck me was the apparent confidence of many gay Mormons who had accepted their sexuality.  This was a new mental place for me – being open, confident and accepting of my secret reality.

In the months since those first nervous evenings on-line, I believe I have come a long way in understanding who I am.  I feel much more open about my sexuality and have rid myself of much of the shame that I previously attached to being gay.  I know that the journey of understanding will continue in the years to come, but I am so glad to have made these first steps.  I wish that it had happened much earlier in life, but am also glad that I did not wait any longer.