Moving (Forward)

What a strange journey it's been these last two years. I went from being married, separated, then divorced, to being in a committed relationship, and am now living with my boyfriend.

For some reason, during the holidays, things get more intense emotionally for me. It brings up a lot of issues that tend to stay tucked away, like my relationship with church, my family, and my ex-wife. It's been hard for me not to look back to a time where I thought I had all the answers, where I thought I knew my plan.

I lived for a time naively, never really questioning the assumptions I'd made that therapy and Evergreen had helped me diminish my same-sex attraction. But then reality hit me. I couldn't hide the fact that I was gay from myself or my wife anymore. We both knew it, but it was something we didn't want to acknowledge.  I've talked a lot about that in this blog, and I'd like to revisit that more sometime with time and perspective. But for now I want to talk about moving forward.

After months of feeling like I was doing nothing to make things better, I finally decided to get out to church today. Not an LDS church. The First Congregational Church. It felt really good, to walk into a place where I'm welcome, affirmed, and celebrated as a human being. To me, that's what Jesus taught, the true message of the gospel, to love and welcome and affirm each other. 

For months I've felt without a home or a center. I think after the pain I've been through, I'm hesitant to recreate that sense of family and home, after trying so hard to do so, only to find out that it was an illusion. Sometimes I've been trying to go it alone. This is somewhat selfish of me, as there are many around me with open welcoming arms ready to embrace me as I am.  I think it's good to develop resilience and independence. But we're social animals, and we need community, support, love, and family.I'm grateful for the people who provide that for me. I need to embrace them, and thank them, and show them how much I appreciate that.

Now I'm in a relationship, and trying to move forward with my life. At times though, I let the past, anniversaries, holidays, all of that, get in the way. Like Lot's wife, I look back, towards "Sodom and Gomorrah", a place where I was unwilling to move in spite of the problems I knew were there, unable or unwilling to acknowledge my doubts and questions about my faith and sexuality because they would force me to do something about them. I have. I've acted. I've left that place and I can't look back now. I don't think I'll be turned into a pillar of salt or anything, but looking back hurts me. It prevents me from living in the present, from going forward; it's a dark depressing place, and not the place for someone given the chances that I have to be happy with a wonderful man and with a wonderful life. 

As I look to my past, growing up Mormon was in many ways a beautiful thing. My service, my mission, learning Spanish, going to BYU, teaching at the MTC, have all been things that have profoundly influenced my life. But the LDS church is not presently a welcoming place for me or other LGBT people. I appreciate the efforts to make it so. I feel welcome in this in between space that people are trying to create to make church welcoming for all and make our communities more welcoming. But there will always be struggle and conflict and disagreement on this issue. I think that's healthy, because there are a lot of things for the church and it's members to come to terms with on this question. But I don't know that it's a place I can call home anymore.

My family home is still not a place where I am totally welcome and accepted. It's getting better, and I don't mean to discredit the effort or the progress that's been made.  But  there's a reason I didn't go home for Thanksgiving, and Christmas may be difficult. I can't make everyone ok with me being in a relationship, and I can't force my partner to go into an environment where we aren't totally welcome and accepted for who we are. There are people in my family who welcome me, and us, with loving arms. But some people won't change, and likely will not change for years to come. 

And so it's time to create a new home. When the Mormon pioneers felt persecuted, they had to leave their homes in Kirtland, Missouri, and Nauvoo. They fought to create home wherever they were, despite the persecutions they endured for their beliefs and lifestyle. But ultimately, none of those places were safe. They preferred to go West, and create a new home rather than continue to fight and die in their old one.

For a long time, I've been in exile, and I've longed for home. Part of the reason holidays are hard is that longing.  I've been unwilling to find a new home. But after wandering in the desert, it's time to find a new home. That doesn't mean I abandon everyone or everything that made those places home, but it does mean being independent and free to go to new places where I haven't allowed myself to go before. It's time to create home rather than waiting for a home to be created for me. And together with my partner, that's exactly what I need to do. I can't stay stuck in the past forever. It's time to move forward.

Coming Out Day

One year ago I came out on facebook. It was October 11, national coming out day. I came to a point in my life where I simply could no longer live my life by what other people expected of me.

So I came out. To everyone. A lot of people were extremely supportive.Others were less than excited that I was sharing something so "personal" on facebook. But the important thing isn't what those people think. And so many people were happy to be part of something I was sharing with them about myself.

Coming out isn't about them. It's about you. It's about you being ok with being gay. It's about you being ok with being different.

So much of my life has revolved around that decision. Not the one to post a few words on facebook, but to live my life by what I know to be true instead of letting other people define me.

I've been with my boyfriend for 8 months now. We started living together last month. I'm so happy, it's hard to put in words.

But what I can say is that none of this would have been possible if I let my fears get the best of me. It's not easy, standing up to my family and (though not very many fall in this category) friends who are against my "lifestyle." It hasn't been easy to talk to my parents and have them get used to it.

But things do get better. My Mom invited us to Thanksgiving and Christmas, at home. I know that part of her doesn't accept things, but she's grown so much, and come to love me for who I am rather than who she thought I was or wants me to be. I hope she'll come to love him too, in her way. That might be a longer process. But it's really not possible to have a relationship with my parents that somehow excludes this important part of my life.

 I know there is a lot of hurt in our community, in the gay community (and yes, it exists), in the Mormon community, and especially in the Gay Mormon community. But beneath all that pain, I think most of us love each other, and are trying to sort the rest out. My Mom is the last person I expected to come around to me being gay. But she even apologized for her ignorance, and for what happened. Change has to happen. Things can't continue how they've been. Luckily, things are working out for the best for me. I know some aren't so lucky. But if you aren't so lucky, don't give up. There are so many of us that would love to put our arms around you and help you up, figure out what to do. And if we are going to be serious about preventing suicide, or the even more prevalent depression in our community, then we've got to do that.

Evergreen, Sept. 11th, and SB 1172

Eleven years ago, following the events of September 11th, I attended the Evergreen International Conference in Salt Lake City, Utah with my Dad. As the Evergreen conference approaches again, I feel it appropriate to say that I condemn efforts to change sexual orientation, especially for youth who are in a vulnerable position.

A few weeks ago, I volunteered to speak with Equality California to lend my support to the law, SB 1172, that would make sexual orientation conversion therapy illegal. Here is a video of that interview:



All of us have to come to terms with being gay, or gay and Mormon, or gay, Mormon, and married in our own way. There's isn't one way to "be gay," there is no one size fits all "homosexual lifestyle" and no one is forced to do anything they are uncomfortable with. But whatever choices we make, trying to pretend like our attractions, desires, feelings, will go away, or that they are wrong, is unhealthy, harmful, and dangerous. Everybody deserves a chance to make choices, have agency, rather than be coerced or manipulated into therapy or a path that they wouldn't have chosen had they had that freedom.

Chickens and Weeds

So a lot has happened since I last posted. Our president has come out in support of gay marriage. DOMA is on the rocks after a lot of court challenges. Also a gay married man has compared himself to a unicorn and a chicken sandwich has been vilified as the ultimate symbol of bigotry-(or sign of free speech, depending on who you talk to).

While I have reservations about Chick-fil-a association with the Family Research Council and Exodus, the fact that a bigoted man made some off the cuff remarks about gay people is no shocker to me. Especially since he made them to an audience he thought he could safely say it to, the Baptist Press. 

But somehow these controversies have overshadowed the significant legal and cultural progress towards equality. So a CEO made an idiot of himself and simultaneously became a beacon for religious freedom. 

Another important matter, which has become an obsession both for the Moho community and the nation at large (or at least it feels that way on facebook) is one Mr. Josh Weed.

While undoubtedly his relationship with his wife is unique and special, the circumstances are not. How many of us have read blogs of married gay men or now divorced gay men? How many of us have been married gay men at one point?

He loves his wife. He's already incredibly aware that he's gay. He's a therapist and seems to understand what sexual orientation is. And for this, I commend him. He is educating people who otherwise wouldn't listen that homosexuality exists, that there is something called sexual orientation, and that it matters. In many ways I see him as an ally, though I'm sure the personal attacks against him and his wife make him more reticent to come to terms with "the gay community."

I do however, have a beef (no pun intended) with Mr. Weed's presentation and characterization of homosexuality. He continually refers to in his posts to a "homosexual lifestyle." I know what he means. He means men having intimate sexual relations with other men, or women with women (although it seems he's mostly referring to men). While he may intend no harm, his words connote a of dismissal of that lifestyle as somehow inferior.

Being gay isn't a lifestyle. There are lot's of "heterosexual lifestyles" and it's the same with "homosexual" or "bisexual" or "asexual" ones as well. My lifestyle really isn't that different from other people. Ok, being a grad student and spending hours reading Latin American literature for a career could be called an "alternative lifestyle" but the fact that I'm gay isn't that different. The fact that I have a boyfriend, that we go to movies, go out to eat, talk to each other on the phone, and yes, sleep in the same bed, does not really qualify as anything extraordinary. It isn't all that "queer" or strange to do any of those things. 

In his 6000+ word post, he says that every choice he makes is couched in loss. And this is what makes me saddest about Josh's post. He doesn't seem to see the validity or possibility of any other choice. Not truly. I'm fine if he, and his wife, choose to be married, have kids, be open about their relationship. But I'm not ok with the way his example is being used to push gay men into marriage or the way it is being used to somehow invalidate these relationships of love that exist between two people, who happen to be of the same gender. There is so much to be gained by this choice. And that's what he doesn't seem to get about my "homosexual lifestyle."

Video Blog

A few months ago, I made a series of videos to talk about my experiences growing up in the church being gay, Evergreen, getting married, and getting divorced.  Bear with me, as this is my first attempt to do something like this (you'll notice for example that I get cut off by my ipod at the end of each video). There are four total, and you can access the rest of them if you click here.

My so-called (ex-gay) therapy

I need to finish reading for my seminars. I am a graduate student after all.

Instead, all I can think about is the article I read here on "My So-Called Ex-gay Life."

I lived this.

My Dad sat me down, and told me that he'd done some research, and that same-sex attraction was probably a result of a number of things including his relationship with me. It was by Dr. Nicolosi, a pioneer in the theory of reparative therapy. I read the book, and it told me that my sexual attractions were a fragmentation of my desire for wholeness and masculinity. I was focusing on one characteristic of another person, and because of that was sexualizing it. If I could have a fulfilling non-sexual relationship with a same sex partner, my feelings would diminish.

I told my Bishop a few months before that I was gay. I wanted to go to BYU, but didn't know if I should because I didn't think they would accept me if I were gay. It was 2001.

As I drove across town to meet with a therapist, I wondered what he'd see. He asked me about my parents. About my Mom. And then about my Dad. He then told me he was dyslexic, and that he overcame that challenge to get a license as a therapist. He told me I was likely gay because of my relationship with my Dad.

My Dad was the reason? That upset me. My Dad had been bishop, and while at times he had been absent, I felt horrible thinking that because of how I was raised I was gay. When I went back to see the Bishop, I told him I didn't want to see the therapist anymore. He said I could see another therapist if I wanted, and he'd still pay for it.

So I drove again across town, in a different direction, to start therapy. What did I think about me being gay? I told her I didn't know why I was gay. I had read that sometimes people had repressed memories of abuse, and maybe that was why. Maybe I remembered something. She told me that maybe that was it. We did hypnotherapy.

Maybe I just wanted attention or affection from men. Other cultures were much more tolerant of same-sex affection, and maybe I just was reflecting my need for that. It didn't mean that I was gay.

At the same time, I came out to my guidance counselor and two of my teachers. One of them gave me a book about a Christian minister who got married even though he thought he was gay, and how he had to fantasize about guys to have sex, and how he ended up getting divorced. I didn't want that to be me.

 One night while I was thinking about this, my Mom knocked on my door and asked what I was doing. It was 2 AM, and I was up late at the computer, reading about homosexuality. I knew I was gay. I didn't know what to say. The next day I went into their room, they sat me down, and I told them I was gay.

A few months later, I had switched therapists. After reading Nicolosi's book, I decided to try it. Maybe I could fix my broken Dad syndrome or my deficiencies and become straight. Or maybe it was a problem with my Mom?  Maybe I could become less gay. Maybe it was possible. In therapy, I read some articles about homosexuality being from a triangle relationship with my parents. If I could someone cross over some bridge that I had missed as a child and get close to my Dad, I could undo my unwanted same-sex attraction. When my Dad offerend to take me to Evergreen, I said yes. I read their website, and he said he knew someone who used the program.

We went in September of 2001. We had to drive because it was just after Sep. 11 and the planes had been grounded. When I got to the conference in the Joseph Smith Memorial building, I was intimidated. I was meeting a lot of gay Mormons. I wondered what they were like. I listened to the panels attently, hearing testimonials about the horrors of the gay lifestlye. Endless hookups, infidelities, diseases. It sounded awful.

My Dad bought me a few books, including the workbook for men. I hardly cracked it open at first. What was the root of my attractions? I didn't know. Was I molested? Having a problem in my same-sex relationship? Broken from faulty parenting?

Finally, something told me that I needed to leave home. I went to BYU-Idaho, books hidden carefully so no one would see, and began to analyze and try to get to the bottom of my same-sex attractions. What caused them? Could the atonement heal me?

I read about sexual abuse, and healing from it. I couldn't remember, but it seemed like maybe it had happened. I came out to a friend. I told him I struggled with same-sex attraction. I went to religion classes and spent long hours in the chapel on campus, or in the gardens, thinking, praying, trying to understand how God could help me overcome my same-sex attraction. It was lonely, but luckily I had some good dormmates. That should help me get over my deficiency in male relationships, right? I spent as much time as I could with everyone. I bonded. I wanted to be like the rest of the guys.

I went on a mission, like all my friends did. I told my leaders that I struggled with same-sex attraction, but they told me that because I hadn't acted on it (I had held a guy's hand, but that was it) I could go. I was elated. I got to the MTC. More same-sex relationships, healthy, non-sexual ones, as I'd been told I should seek from Evergreen and Nicolosi, that would help heal my brokenness.

I was doing fine. But then it got to me. What if I felt something for my companions? I felt attractions. Was I a sinner? Was I evil? I was trying wasn't I. I wrote a letter to the First Presidency. I remember learning that it was advised against, but I wanted assurance that I was ok to be a missionary. They wrote my back and told me that "any tendencies can be overcome through the atonement of Christ. After an interview with my branch president, I was clear to go on a mission.

I met my Mission President. He seemed great. I was excited. I was learning Spanish. I was a missionary. I prayed, I worked hard. I felt guilty breaking rules. I started "slipping up" thinking about guys, and I told my mission president. I ordered books on compulsive sexual behavior. I met a therapist in the mission field who told me that "Jesus may have struggled with the same temptation." I was in awe. I'm sure my companion was freaked out by the situation, even though he didn't know what was going on.

I eventually told another missionary I was gay. I was in the gay district of Dallas, and I was worried that it would influence me. I say guys holding hands down the street. I even ran into a gay pride parade. I prayed to God to get me out of there. I knew that there were gay members of the church, and I wanted to reach out to them, but didn't know how.

I got my wish. I got sent to Nacogdoches Texas, and I tried to be as strictly obedient as I could. I prayed every night that God would someday let me get married. I prayed in my closet for a long time, pouring my heart out to God to take this away. I wanted to be whole. If Jesus could heal the sick, he could heal me.

I came home from my mission. I transferred to BYU in Provo. I had the chance to start a new life, to get married. And I did.

I went out every weekend with girls, trying to show God that I was trying. Why wasn't it working? Maybe I just hadn't found the right girl. I went back to Evergreen, and I interrogated the people there about getting married. Could they have a honeymoon? One of them told me a story about how nervous he was, but that he prayed and that everything worked fine.

As I was leaving, I met a girl at the conference and asked for her number. Her brother was gay, and she thought it would be good for me to try to date a girl. I was excited to have my first kiss, and first girlfriend. But it didn't feel right somehow. And I knew she wanted to get married. I didn't.

I dated a few other girls, but never seriously. It never got to the girlfriend stage or I broke it off right after it did.

And then I met her, the girl I married. It was the best date I'd ever been on. We were so cute, someone bought us a fried ice-cream for free. I took her on a second date on the back of my scooter. I spent every day with her. She asked why we weren't dating yet. I said, well we should, shouldn't we? I felt like this could be it. This could be the one.

If you've read the blog you'll know the rest of that story. I got married, I got divorced. I came out to my family. I thought that I had everything that I wanted. I was married. My goal, my dream, was coming true.

But I ask myself, a year later, so what happened?

There's no real easy answer. But one night, around Christmas of 2010, I had a dream about a guy. It wasn't the first time, but it wasn't something that happened all that often.I knew that wasn't that big of a deal , but I was worried. So I started looking on the internet for resources for married gay men. I started posting, chatting, I read Bill Bradshaw's work. I found blogs, I read stories. It was the anti-ex gay cure I needed. I read testimonials, and realized I'd been lied to. That wasn't science. Those stories of a cure often ended in failure, divorce. And I was scared.

And I realized, that I was still gay. My reparative therapy had never worked.

So what was I supposed to do about it? I didn't want to go to church that day. I didn't know what to feel. I felt so disillusioned by everything. I felt so lost. Who was I? Why was I doing this to our marriage? Why was I doubting my faith?

I wrote her a letter. I didn't know what to say. I was freaked out. I told her I was still gay. I told her I needed therapy, I'd been really depressed. She agreed, even though we were worried what they would say.  I was scared they'd tell me I should accept myself as gay. I cried. And cried. And cried. I came out to a few friends at school. They were blown away. Wasn't I Mormon? And married? My wife asked me if I wanted a divorce. At first I said no.

 And then I told her I realized I didn't feel for her what she felt for me. She was silent. An hour went by. And then she cried. I rarely saw her cry. I rarely saw her this upset, and it tore me up. A few weeks later, I told her that I thought we should get divorced. The next day I told her I wasn't ready for that. That I needed more time. But she was. It was over. She left a few weeks later. I didn't know what to do.I was so lost. I thought about suicide. No one would accept me

Except that they did. No, my bishops and my parents didn't accept my decision or the fact that I was gay. But my brothers and most of my friends did. Even my wife did, as much as she could.

Holding onto the hope that I could change held me back. I was fine being in the church, I was fine getting married, I was fine doing everything until I realized, I couldn't change. I needed to live with that. And it was hard. Really hard to give up that dream. To let that part of myself die. The false self.

But what's happened since has been amazing. I came out on National Coming out day on Facebook. I started blogging. I started meeting people. And talking. I read a book called The Velvet Rage. It talks about overcoming the shame of being a gay man in a straight man's world. It moved me. I realized I had been shamed my whole life for being different. I'd been shamed even by therapists and church and family, people who I went to for help, just because I was different.

Things started falling into place. I met someone. I fell in love.I'm so happy. I have felt so much pain for so long, that to have a relationship with someone who cares, that I can give myself to, is amazing. I care about my ex-wife so much. But as hard as I tried I could not be the person that she needed me to be. And she couldn't be the person I needed. We had to accept that and move on. It was hard. It was painful, and agonizing, and lonely sometimes.

But I made it. And I think she will too. At least I hope so.

I unequivocally stand against reparative therapy. It has done untold harm to not just me but to my family.  But there is hope. It doesn't break you, it just makes you feel you are broken. You have to reject that. To survive. And you have to reject all the other people who tell you you are less than, or broken. You have to know that you were always whole. And that God loves you for who you are. I once prayed in agony, and felt stronger than I ever have that it was ok that I was gay. I believe Him. And I trust Him. And I know that it does get better. But it only gets better if you reach out and get the right help. Going to the wrong sources only makes it worse.

Dear Mom,

I'm in a relationship now. I've been hesitant to tell you this because of the way I almost certainly know you'll react to this news. But it would be impossible for me to have a meaningful relationship with you and not let you know about an important part of my life.

I love you very much. But unless you are willing to accept that I'm gay and treat me and my boyfriend with the respect we deserve I will not come home for Christmas, Thanksgiving, my birthday. I'm going to give you space to deal with your emotions. But I will not allow your intolerace to affect my happiness. I will not tolerate any attempt to hurt my relationship or guilt me into any action I am uncomfortable with.

You are my Mom and you mean the world to me. But I can't be false with you or anyone. I can't pretend that this doesn't exist and I won't allow you to pretend that I don't exist or that my relationship with another human being exists. It is an important part of me and my life, and unless you can respect that, I don't know how we are going to have a meaningful relationship.

I am going to honor you know by not listening to ideas or prejudices that I know to be wrong and evil. I hope some day you will pray to God and ask him to tell you the truth so that you can have your eyes opened. I know you love me and will always love me, and I will love you. But I will not accept any attempt to hurt or damage my growing relationship and potential family. If you want to be a part of it, I will gladly accept you.

Sincerely,
Alex

Note: This isn't the letter I actually sent. I agreed to let my brother tell my Mom that I'm dating someone. After a few days, she wrote me and told me she didn't know what to say and that how she felt was not quite resolved. Here is my response:


I'm happier than I've ever been. I wish that you would just be happy for me that my needs are being met and that I feel fulfilled in a relationship of trust, love, and commitment with another person. How you feel and what you think won't change or affect that, but I've been hesitant to talk to you because I was worried how you'd react. I hope that you will treat both him and me with respect. I want you to know that I will not tolerate any disrespect towards him, and I will hang up the phone or end the conversation (or ignore a message/letter/e-mail) if it turns to that. 


Wouldn't it be nice to live in a world where your son dates someone, a genuinely good person, and you feel happy for them? I know that if I'm ever a father I will. I'm going to love my son or daughter and I'm going to feel happy for them when things bring them joy and happiness. I'm going to want to share in them. And I'm going to love them, and tell them how happy I am for them, and how proud I am to have them as my child. I'm going to want to be there if they get married, and I'm going to want to share in their life, their joys, their sorrows, their pains. It shouldn't matter what gender or sexual orientation your children are or what gender or sexual orientation who they love are.