Gays, Mormons, and the Uncomfortable Reality — Episode 3

Welcome back for the third and last installment of this crazy long discussion on Mormons, gayness, and the space between. If you’re still with me, my thanks for your tenacity.
(Episode 1 and Episode 2 here for any newcomers — you’ll want to read those first.)
Let me start with what I said at the very beginning: I am happy you are in my life, member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Truly and sincerely. Sometimes I fear that these thoughts of mine can be alienating, like I would rather you not stick around.
Please do not take any of what I’ve said here as my request for you to go away or leave. Too many have already done that, and I’d really like to not have that happen anymore.
But I think if you and I are going to have an authentic and meaningful connection with each other, then we have to be honest about the nature of our relationship, whatever that may be. And yes, I am speaking to you.
Yes, you.
As I’ve been writing these essays, nearly every person in my life who is both a member of the Church and my family, friend, acquaintance, coworker, colleague, or otherwise has crossed my mind.
And as I’ve thought about you over the past year, I’ve finally been able to articulate something that’s been nagging in my mind for as long as I can remember. Something I can finally name and describe.
So, let’s talk about . . .
VI — The Problem
Quite often, I will hear someone offer some variation of: “The Church is getting better at dealing with the gays.”
And to be fair, there is a degree of truth to that. The Church isn’t openly declaring anymore that being gay is a choice. They aren’t openly suggesting that a person can change from gay to straight. There have been moments that to you may seem like the Church making an earnest effort to improve how they handle the gays.
Perhaps you are therefore a bit perplexed why so many of your gay friends, family, and associates seem almost determined to be antagonistic toward the Church. After all, the Church seems to be getting better at this, right? So why do I, your gay friend, family member, or associate seem so hellbent on not meeting them halfway? Why is no effort the Church makes good enough for me? Why will I not acknowledge the “positive steps” they have taken?
What I need you to realize is nothing the Church can do will change this reality:
- Homophobia is the belief that being gay is less than being straight; that in a perfect world, there are no gay people and no one “should” be gay.
- To exist with its doctrines of eternal marriage, eternal families, and even deity, the Church must always see being gay as less than being straight; in their concept of a perfect, celestial world, no one is gay.
- Therefore . . .
The Church can never not be homophobic
There’s no getting around this. If the “work of the Church”, to paraphrase Elder Oaks, is to prepare people for exaltation through straight marriage, then, conversely, part of that work must also be to exert any effort possible to elevate being straight over being gay. Whether it’s done with words or actions, and no matter how much “love” it’s done with, the Church will never not do everything it can to convince themselves and everyone else that, ultimately, gayness isn’t really a thing, so the gays do not really exist.
In short, the Church is on a relentless homophobic crusade to erase or cancel me, because they are on a relentless homophobic crusade to erase or cancel gayness.
And, at long last, The Problem is . . .
You belong to that Church.
You belong to an organization that will never not be tearing me down, casting me as less-than, shaming me for being me, and doing everything it can to erase me.
VII — Now, Listen
I know that the Church is important to you. I know that it is, in many ways, the center of your life. And I know that for many of you, the Church is all you’ve ever known. Trust me, I get it.
After all, for many years, it was the most important thing in my life, too. An ironic truth about me and my fellow gays is we were always the best Mormons . . . until we weren’t. So believe me, I understand that you can’t imagine your life without the Church and so you won’t. I understand that you have your faith, your beliefs, and your testimony.
And I believe those are good things! You are good people who do good things in the world and I truly believe the Church is part of why you are that way. I don’t think any of you are bad people just because you belong to the Church. What kind of hypocrite would I be to think less of people for belonging to the Church that I belonged to and defended for so many years?
So let me put your mind at ease: I am not going to tell you to leave the Church. I’m not saying we can’t have the relationship we have if you stay in the Church. Nor am I going to launch into an offensive on your beliefs.
But I need, desperately and intrinsically need you to understand this rift in our relationship. It’s a gap, a divide, a separation. You are over there, raising your hand to sustain Church leaders, paying your tithing, going to meetings every Sunday, watching general conference, attending the temple, living the life the Church asks you to live. And I’m over here, so acutely aware that with every one of those actions, you are affirming your place in an organization that wants me to not exist and will never not want that.
And what’s worse is I don’t think this problem is one we can solve. One of three things would have to happen for this rift to go away:
The Church would have to embrace the idea that being gay is good, actually. Do you see that happening? Me neither.
Or you would have to come over to this side with me, away from the Church. Again, I’m not asking you to do that, nor do I ever expect it from you.
Or I would have to come back over to your side, with the Church. Does that seem like a good idea to you? Are you hoping that will happen?
I really need you to listen to me now.
This rift we’re talking about? Yes, it’s a troublesome thing between you and me. But for far too long this rift was part of who I was. There was the me that belonged to the Church, and there was the me that the Church wanted to erase. The space between us was once a void within myself. I wasn’t whole. I wasn’t integral. That rift was tearing my spirit apart. I cannot even begin to tell you everything I lost allowing that rift to be part of my life. In so many ways, it nearly destroyed me.

Then, four years ago, on a beach in Hawaii, I finally saw this rift for what it was, and I knew that if I kept trying to span it, I was going to die. So I had to choose. And the choice was clear: I didn’t choose to be gay, but I could stop choosing the Church. And yes, when I left the Church, it felt as though a part of me had died. And still to this day I’m figuring out who I am without it.
But do I regret making that choice? Not for one second. You cannot fathom how much more at ease I am with myself ever since I let go of the Church. Maybe you’ve seen the difficulties in my life recently and thought that they wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t left. Know this: as hard as things have been, I do not doubt for one moment they would have been harder if I were still in the Church.
So no, I am not going to go back to the place that best taught me how to hate myself. The thought of doing so fills me with dread and despair that I do not have words to describe.
So you see, there’s no way for this rift to go away.
So why is this rift The Problem? Well, I would suppose nearly every gay you know would agree that the rift exists, but I think it means something different to each of us. So . . .
VIII — The Part Where I Get Super Vulnerable
I want to believe that I can find happiness and fulfillment as a gay man, no church and none of its rules required; that I will find someone, that I can build my own family, that I can have everything I want in life and being gay doesn’t have to abridge that.
Simply put, coming full circle: I want to believe without any hesitation that being gay doesn’t mean being less than being straight.
But recently I’ve realized something: I have spent most of my life with the belief that something was wrong with me. And without a doubt, the Church was directly responsible for so much of that belief.
And I made the mistake of staying too long in that abusive relationship with the Church. I lived too long in places with no strong queer community. And now I find myself constantly feeling like I’ve fallen behind my peers or outside the chosen families and communities they’ve built.
So while I want to believe that I can be happy and fulfilled as a gay man, as happy and fulfilled as any of you who are straight and still in the Church, I’ve realized it’s too hard to believe that by myself. There’s just too much damage for me to embrace those beliefs all on my own; that there’s nothing wrong with me, and that I will be successful and happy on my terms.
So in my perfect world, you would believe all of that, too. You would believe that my life as a gay man can be as wonderful, happy, fulfilling, and perfect as a life in the Church would be, if not more so.
But you’re still in the Church. You’re still in that place that teaches that I’ve lost my way; that I’ve made a mistake, and that any happiness I find over here is fleeting or “counterfeit”.
And for all I know, you believe that. For all I know, you believe that someday I’ll see the error of my ways, that I’ll decide being gay isn’t good, that I’ll come back over to your side of the rift, and your world will make perfect sense again.
I don’t know if you believe that. I can’t know what you truly believe, no matter what you say to me. All I know is that for whatever reasons you have, you belong to a Church that proclaims and believes in the homophobia I have spent this series explaining; so I have to accept the possibility that you also believe in that homophobia, too.
That possibility, and how often I am reminded of it, is how the rift is The Problem for me.
The rift that you’re now aware of.
IX — Well, Damn. Now What?
So, yeah. All of this didn’t exactly lead to a happy ending, did it?
I presented to you a problem that neither you nor I can do anything about, and the people who do have the ability to fix it show absolutely no signs that they ever will.
And I’m honestly tempted to just leave it at that. After all, the Church has no real answers for me, so perhaps I shouldn’t give any to you.
But . . . <long beleaguered sigh> . . . wait.
If you really want to make this better for the gays and at the very least mitigate the damage the Church causes, allow me to offer the following guidance:
Don’t Justify The Problem
I’m going to imagine that some of you over the course of this series have had thoughts along these lines . . . in fact, I know some of you have because I read such a thought in someone’s comment on Episode 2: But Blake, there are lots of things that the Church isn’t cool with, I can hear you say. Everyone has to make adjustments in their life to follow Church teachings!
And then you’ll make the kinds of comparisons I’ve heard my entire life: alcoholism or other drug addictions are the old stand-by. Then there’s the comparisons to pornography or my personal favorite: well, straight people are attracted to people besides their spouses . . . why would God do that, huh?!?!
I even once had a bishop describe in detail his “temptation” to cheat on his wife, and how that’s just like what I’m experiencing.
Know this: you are being insensitive, dismissive, and cruel when you equate my desire for companionship — to be with someone, love someone, share a life someone — to something as destructive as alcoholism or other addictions.
And you’re twisting the dagger even more when you say that me wanting to be with someone is equal to you wanting to be promiscuous or unfaithful to your spouse. Please tell me you can see how unfair that equation is. Sure, you had to wash your hands and dress nice to sit at the table for dinner. Me? My hands could be spotless and I could wear a tux, but there’s no chair for me at the table. And even if there was, I’m allergic to the only food being served — I can eat and end up sick or I can starve.
These are false, unfair comparisons. They only serve for you to justify how awful the Church is to the gays so you don’t have to confront reality.
Stop it.
Beware of Pride
One of my fellow gays has an astute conclusion: “it takes a deep amount of hubris for you to assume, if you were gay, you would be doing anything different.”
I mean, really take a second and imagine if the script were flipped: imagine if the Church you grew up in taught since your childhood that it’s wrong for men to be with women. Imagine if you grew up having to hide who you were attracted to. Imagine if you never got to date, hold hands, or go to dances with someone you actually wanted to in high school. Imagine going to singles’ wards, knowing that they weren’t made for you to find someone to spend your life with.
Imagine that to stay in the Church, you couldn’t have your spouse, your children, the home or life you’ve built with them. Imagine having to commit yourself to either a) be single for your entire life, or b) force yourself to marry a good friend of the same sex.
Are you honestly going to tell me you would be able to do that?
Are you honestly going to say you could live that kind of life with no reservation?
Think carefully.
Accept Reality . . . Please
As I said before, I am not going to ask you to renounce your faith or to walk away from the Church; I can work from a hypothesis of generosity that the Church, as much as it comes at the gays, is the best choice for you and makes the most sense for your life.
Please, please, please: can you extend me the same courtesy with my life choices?
Don’t ask me to come back to the Church. Don’t expect that I will. Please don’t even hope or pray that it will happen. Despite everything, I still believe what the Church taught me about faith: it is belief made into action. And if you keep the faith that I’m going to come back or that I should come back, it’s only going to lead to those small moments of homophobia we already talked about.
I’m not going back to a place that only wanted a version of me so twisted that it would no longer be me. Don’t make it harder for me to stay away from that abusive relationship.
Don’t Leave
I think there’s this assumption that once a gay comes out and leaves the Church he suddenly finds himself awash with love and acceptance from the gay community. And, sure, the gay community in particular and the queer community in general does try its best to be a welcoming place.
But the reality is the queer community is full of people who have suffered a lot of the same collective trauma . . . we’re not always awesome at helping each other through it.
So don’t think we don’t still need you. Don’t think you need or should leave us alone or leave us be.
Besides, for an anxiety-ridden gay like me, “the story I am telling myself” is you left because I left the Church, or because I started dating, or because I had a boyfriend, or because . . .
So please stay. Let me still be part of your life.
But Don’t Ignore that I’m Gay
I know I said I can never know what you truly believe. But, as I also said from the beginning, I want to truly believe that you aren’t homophobic as I’ve explained. And it will help me to believe that if you engage with my gayness, instead of ignoring it or pretending it’s not there.
Ask me if I’m seeing anyone; ask me my dating stories — I have some good ones. Ask my opinion on LGBTQ issues. If I am seeing someone, include them in the things we do. Let me express the good of being gay, and encourage what makes me happy about it. Realize that moving away from the Church means exploring life “outside the rules”, so give me space to fully be me, not just the parts you’re comfortable with.
Above all: don’t assume that I know what you’re thinking or how you’re feeling. Don’t assume that your support, love, or encouragement is an unspoken given. You’re still in the Church, so, unfortunately, I cannot help but question if you’re in my corner on this.
Just let me know from time to time, okay?
Pray For Me . . . But Pray For This
What does the ideal version of my life look like for you? What would it be?
Am I married to a woman in the temple? Am I going to Church every Sunday and with a temple recommend in my pocket? Do I have a few kids that I someday baptize into the Church?
If that’s your ideal version of me, I need you to understand that version of me isn’t real. And it’s not going to be, not unless I torture myself into it. Is that what you want?
Maybe you’ve accepted that version isn’t going to work, so instead your ideal me is happily single. Perhaps I have a dog, a great job, and lots of friends so I never feel alone or depressed.
That version, while more gentle, suffers a similar problem as the first: it wants me to not be gay. It asserts that if I can’t be straight, I can at least be less-bad by being gay and single instead of gay and in a relationship.
So let me tell you my ideal version of my life: I’m in a long-term, lifelong relationship with someone whom I love very, very much. He and I are able to build a life together and possibly even adopt some children. We support each other in our careers and other pursuits, we challenge each other to grow and are each other’s best friend. We can just be like everyone else, build our family, and grow old together.
Does that sound so bad?
I know you pray.
If you’re going to pray for me, will you pray for what I want my life to be?
And if you can’t pray for that, I need you to ask yourself why.
Conclusion
I hope you know how much I appreciate the time you’ve taken to go through this series. I appreciate all the words of support and praise I’ve received for it, and I sincerely hope it can make some positive change in our relationship or in the relationships you have with others.
And I do hope you will take what I’ve said here to heart, because after four years away from the Church and trying to make sense of how it has affected my life, I’ve said here all that I ever care to say on the subject. I don’t want to justify my actions anymore, I don’t want to explain why I left anymore, and I don’t want to give any more of my life to the Church other than what is incidental from both living in Utah and having an active, orthodox family.
Once more: I am so happy that you are in my life. And I want so much for us to continue to grow and learn from each other. I hope now that you know, now that you understand, it will only help us to be better people together.
Finally, let me leave you with this thought: I accepted long ago that the Church can never be completely gone from my life. It will always be in my past, and because I have you in my life, it will always have a place in my present and future.
All I ask, at the end of everything, is that you let me let it go.