If You Don't Go to Church, Then Why Do You Care?

As I delve deeper into LGBTQ Mormon activism, surrounded by individuals attempting to reconcile their sexual or gender identity within traditional Mormon spaces, others increasingly ask me this question. As a result, I have even begun to ask myself this as well. Indeed, I am no longer attending church, so why do I care about LGBTQ Mormon movements?

First, I think it’s important to point out the implications this question has: in order to identify religiously, one must regularly attend church services. For many of us identifying as LGBTQ and Mormon, ex-communication and being forced out of religious spaces is a common experience, and our desire to worship is disregarded. Thus, the problem with defining identity in terms of church attendance is that it erases the history of many LGBTQ-identified individuals, people who have been forced to leave and find religion some other way. Additionally, this definition of a religious identity prioritizes one way of having a religious identity over others. For me, this means I see the potential in non-active church members working with LGBTQ religious movements. Because disregarding current activity status, I at one point in my life was carrying out both my queer and religious identities simultaneously. Because I remember the pain and want to help create a space for others in situations I once was in. I also see connections between the LGBTQ Mormon movement and other issues within the Church, such as feminism (both struggle with the prevailing patriarchy). Many of these issues remain close to my heart and ones that I want to see resolved.

And truth be told, it’s not as simple as stepping away from the Church. Many of us are born into the Church, and brought up in Mormon households. Our households and families remain Mormon, despite our lack of involvement with the official Church. The customs and upbringing in Mormon spaces remains ingrained for many of us, as Matt demonstrated in his post a few weeks ago. And even if I seek spirituality elsewhere or nowhere, this institution exists and continues to halt the progress of the people and causes I care about. And it exists within us: our minds, our families.

It is this variation in experiences of LGBTQ Mormons that needs to be recognized. Whether active or inactive, single or in a relationship, there are many different ways to be simultaneously LGBTQ and Mormon. And in a political movement that aims at representing us, the fluidity of our experiences should be recognized, and none should be prioritized over another, or prescribed to the rest of us as the way to be simultaneously LGBTQ and Mormon.

A few months back, I had the opportunity to attend a workshop at UCSB presented by two of the authors of Original Plumbing (be sure to check out this wonderful blog here). During the workshop, an individual expressed the opportunity he has had to speak and educate about trans issues, despite many people being unaware that he identifies as trans also. He referred to this as a shift of consciousness from a trans-identified voice to a non-trans ally, and how this has allowed him to have a different approach and perspective in his activism.

This resonated deeply with me. In many ways, it’s how I feel currently. I may never return to Church, and I may decide existing in spaces of worship no longer works for me. But no matter what, I will still have my experience, at one point in my life, of being gay and Mormon. And while I’m working to create a space for those still in this or similar parts of their life, I’m also working to create a space for the teenager me that wanted it to be okay to be out, and find a more accurate religion of love and acceptance. And maybe it be a drastic restructuring of a flawed institution or resorting elsewhere to other means of worship. But I’ll never get closer to discovering what this all would look like if I don’t join in making it reality. And in no way does this invalidate my experiences and the identity I hold onto.

Coming Out About...Coming Out

This past week, NBA star Jason Collins came out as a gay male. First, I will endorse Collins’ published letter in Sports Illustrated, which can be read here.

Second, allow me to critique the other media buzz surrounding Collins and coming out. One particular headline I saw that rubbed me the wrong way?

Pro basketball player Jason Collins appears in his first interview since coming out.

Now, I understand the innocence in this headline. But still, I beg the question: what does it matter?

Headlines and hoopla like this are precisely reason enough to keep people in the closet, to prevent them from openly claiming their sexuality. Phrases and attitudes like this treat it like a big deal, like coming out makes people completely different from who they were before. I can testify that I am the same person as before, only now I’m cluing people in to my preferences. And taking more fashion risks.

I have long wanted to write about coming out, because I think there are many problematic discourses surrounding it. In particular, the act of coming out and ways of doing it act as a singular prescription for all. In reality, no one gay or LGBTQ-identified person’s experience is the same as another’s. My experience is not the same as someone else’s experience. What works for me may not work for someone else, because each of us have different factors and circumstances that may or may not affect us. We’re individuals. We have individual lives.

I do not wish to speculate about the life of Jason Collins, since I do not know him or his life personally. But I do wish to highlight his acknowledgment of social factors preventing him from feeling comfortable coming out, as well his privileges in doing so. These highlight important social issues affecting LGBTQ-identified individuals, as well as notions of gender and sexuality.

Collins admits, “I'm glad I'm coming out in 2013 rather than 2003. The climate has shifted; public opinion has shifted. And yet we still have so much farther to go.” And while Collins attempts to not make this a progress narrative by confessing we have much farther to travel, I can’t help but wonder…for whom has the climate shifted? And which public has changed their opinion? For many who remain in the LDS Church, laughter ensues.

Collins also admits his own privilege in coming out. Collins states as “a free agent, literally and figuratively…I've reached that enviable state in life in which I can do pretty much what I want,” admitting his privilege in being a free agent, which he perceives as the opportunity to come out do whatever he wants. Additionally, he admits that he goes against “the gay stereotype, which is why I think a lot of players will be shocked: That guy is gay? But I've always been an aggressive player, even in high school. Am I so physical to prove that being gay doesn't make you soft?” I cringe because I wonder what’s so wrong with abiding by the stereotype? Can we just forget notions of traditional masculinity and be who we are?

Coming out can be hard, difficult, and in many situations, not option. I myself, along with many readers of this blog, have grown up in Mormon families. Some even continue practicing the religion, whether in those spaces or elsewhere. In our situations, coming out can be a difficult thing. Reconciling long-held familial beliefs with one’s sexuality, in addition to worrying about acceptance and tolerance from one’s own family, remains a striking issue for many of us. Add in concerns with church policies and manners of treating its LGBTQ-identified members, and coming out doesn’t seem as much fun as staying in anymore.  

My belief is this: in regards to coming out, I would want anyone to do it on their own will, agenda, and desire. There’s already so much pressure to adhere to heterosexuality and a traditional life, claiming one’s sexuality and personal identity should not be pressured as well. It’s an individual action that must be done the individual feels is the right time, if at all. Kudos to Jason Collins for being able to do so. I hope it’s a positive thing for him. But it's not the only narrative of a gay man.  

Bisexuality Rant

Here is a (condensed) list of reasons I was afraid to come out as a bisexual, or to label myself with the term bisexual:

1) I was afraid people would be like, "...but your'e in a committed relationship with a man...so why bother coming out? It's not like you're actually *gay*."

2) I was afraid my boyfriend would be like, "but your'e in a committed relationship with *me*...so why bother coming out? It's not like you're actually *gay*."


3) My parents. Which is a whole different can of worms that finals week will not bear going into right now.

4) I was afraid people would be like, "Are you sure you're just not actually *straight* and you're just rebelling against your parents?"

5) I was afraid people would be like, "Are you sure you're not actually gay and you just haven't experimented enough and the boyfriend is just a cover?"

So, turns out, these are fears a lot of bisexuals have, and experiences a LOT of bisexuals have had as well. Here are my experiences with my fears:

1) no one's ever said that to my face, but it does come across A LOT in the media (cf one very strange episode of Happy Endings, which I generally like as a show and was therefore disappointed in, and A LOT of other things) and in offhand comments by acquaintances/classmates who don't know that there is *gasp!* a bisexual in their midst.

2) My boyfriend did not say this, having always suspected something of the sort, and though he was perhaps a little perplexed about my need to label myself, we talked about it a lot and are (I think) both pretty comfortable with it.

Did I mention that my boyfriend rocks?

3) ....no comment. Yet.

4) Multiple people have said this to me, namely my LDS bishop and my parents.


5) No one said that to me, presumably because I've been into boys as much as I've been into girls for my entire life.

So what is it about bisexuals that freaks people out? Obviously people are freaked out by homosexuality and queerness and transgenders because they go against standard norms, but I've found that there tends to be a prejudice against bisexuals because they aren't one thing or another. They defy our human belief that things need to be in shades of black and white--you're either all gay, or you're all straight. Of course, the Kinsey scale itself pushes against this, and I'm not trying to say that this same issue isn't applicable to the LGBTQ community as a whole (and human life in general, really), but the way the media (and my classmates) tend to deal with the issue of bisexuals is to write them off as confused, because really they should just be all gay or all straight.

I still struggle with the issue of why I wanted to "come out" as bisexual when I could have just stayed hidden as a typical (...kind of) heterosexual in a monogamous heterosexual relationship. But I think it had to do with wanting to be true to myself, and wanting people to know that for me, a real expression of love wasn't necessarily dependent on gender. I told my parents not because I wanted to "rebel" against them, but because I wanted to show them the thing they were the most scared of in the world--ie, being kinda gay--and see if they could still love and accept me. It was kind of a plea for acceptance, and since I relied on them for my self-worth, I think I was also saying, "Tell me that I can be this way and still love myself, because if you love me, then I can love me too." Needless to say, that didn't turn out very well, and while I know that my parents still love me, they don't love me in a way that translates to me as "love," ie respecting my decisions and treating me like a capable, inherently good human being. But hopefully throughout this experience I can move closer to choosing how I want to define myself and how I want to see and love myself, and feel less like I need outside sources to define and evaluate me to determine my self-worth.

I'm not sure how I feel about Single Dad Laughing; I'm not crazy about him, but I do think he makes some apt points occasionally, including this list about what it means to be bisexual:

That doesn’t mean that I sleep around.

That doesn’t mean that I am confused.

That doesn’t mean that I am attracted to everyone.

That doesn’t mean that I am in transition.

That doesn’t mean that I am not faithful in my relationships.

That doesn’t mean that I will always want and miss the gender I am not with.

That doesn’t mean that I am denying my true self.

That doesn’t mean that I am into threesomes. Or orgies. Or swinging.

That doesn’t mean that I am always horny.

And, believe it or not, that doesn’t mean that I am attracted to you simply because you’re breathing and you have two legs with something in between them.

It simply means that I will fall in love with whomever I will fall in love with.

Here's the full post if you want to check it out. I thought it was interesting, though I don't know how he can live with someone who says that if she could change one thing about him, it would be his bisexuality. That seems...terrible. But it's his life, not mine.

Also, I wanted to note that it's okay not to label your sexuality, or to label it in a way different from the norm. Identifying as "queer" instead of going with the more traditional labels is often really helpful for people and really cool. Alternatively, if you choose not to label yourself, I think that can be as freeing as choosing a label for yourself instead of letting society choose one for you. This is just kind of the way it worked out for me.

(ironically, perhaps, I am now going to choose my "labels" for this post so people can search for it in the blog...I guess I can label it whatever I want to)

That's pretty much my unedited rant for the day. Now back to paper writing. Have a good week, everyone!

Also, here's a poem I found today on my friend's tumblr that served as a good reminder that if you haven't read any of ee cumming's erotic poetry, YOU REALLY SHOULD CONSIDER DOING SO.

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh … And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new.

Mormons Be Like, "Progress!"

“Wait…women weren’t allowed to pray before??”

This was my first reaction upon reading that Jean A. Stevens, first counselor in the Primary presidency, gave the first prayer ever given by a woman at a worldwide Mormon meeting during Saturday’s General Conference session.

(Reason why I’m not a good Mormon: I’ve never watched a televised General Conference event. Ever. In years past, I’d read the talks online or in print if I perhaps was interested in any of them. Otherwise, I’ve never participated in General Conference.)

Women have been able to pray during regular, local Sunday services for as long as I’ve been alive. And truth be told, women’s prayers often captured my attention and spirit better than their male counterparts. I was baffled as to how a woman had never before prayed in a General Conference before. Welcome to 1925, y’all.

As per usual, the drama started while reading my Facebook newsfeed, blown up with news of the “first prayer by a woman at Mormon conference.” The response was an overwhelming “yay progress!,” to which I groaned.

In an email quoted by The Salt Like Tribune , Kristine Haglund, editor of Dialogue: A Journal of Mormon Thought, offered an explanation as to why women had never before been invited to pray at worldwide Church meetings:

"It was the unintended consequence of the institutional systematization of patriarchy.”

And it was Steven’s prayer that uncovered the existence of patriarchy at an institutional level. A system that didn’t acknowledge the capabilities and capacities of women to pray at worldwide meetings until 2013, 183 years after the Church was formed. And a system that is still in place, despite a historical prayer this weekend.

A system where at the same conference as the first woman’s prayer, talks were given that weren’t so welcoming and loving. Some warned us against the “tolerance trap,” as it was coined. Talks like these are especially harmful to members of LGBT Mormon spaces, and do much to show how little progress is being made, and how the institutionalized patriarchy is still operating at its finest. 

I am glad that women are now able to pray in these spaces. But it’s only one of many worthwhile causes Mormon feminists are working on. These people are continuing to work on the causes pertinent to bringing about substantial changes. A Facebook event the other week clued me in to a movement of women nationwide to wear pants on a specified Sunday. Besides this, people are working to challenge this patriarchy and other systemic issues limiting the participation and equal treatment of fellow churchgoers. Some promote tolerance and acceptance of women not complying with social expectations of marriage and homemaking. Others are working towards the inclusion of their fellow members who happen to identify as lesbian or gay. The Exponent illustrates the many issues Mormon feminists are working on and steps to take towards resolution. 

I do not wish to downplay the historical nature and significance of Sister Stevens’ prayer during General Conference. I accept it as a long overdue change that needed to happen, and hope it’s only a pit stop to real progress and adjustments of systemic and institutionalized issues present. For me, progress runs deeper than putting a woman on a pulpit and letting her speak. It’s making changes so that everyone may be able to partake in worshipping their God, and eliminate fear for being accepted or safe in religious spaces. That will be progress worth tuning in for. 

True Equality Won't Come with Marriage

A peaceful spring break quickly turned into a hectic one. Surprisingly, the continuous plans I made to keep me busy weren’t the most hectic part of it all. Dinner and Jersey Boys, a Giants game, and catching up with friends were the least of my chaos. The most frenzy came from Facebook and this symbol:

and my having to explain my position.

This post is not about arguing for or against the issue of same-sex marriage. That’s not the point. I myself am weary about marriage as an institution, specifically because of the inequalities it perpetuates and small population marriage is even applicable to. I invite anyone to click here, here, and here, for more reading on this topic, as more educated people have been better able to articulate their thoughts on the matter.

And yes, I do realize that this issue reaching the Supreme Court is historical and could produce significant legislation, so that’s not what this post is about. 

What this post is about, however, is how the issue of same-sex marriage is being deployed as a solution to injustice towards the LGBTQ community, the solution to everyone’s problems. And as I struggled to formulate my opinion on the matter, Jack Halberstam, Director of The Center for Feminist Research at University of Southern California and queer theorist, came as my saving grace with the following quote:

"Get married by all means--gays, straights, whatevers--but don't confuse recognition with liberation or the cementing of social norms with social justice."

Amen.

If anyone needs any proof that other and more crippling problems persist, then I wish I could show you my Facebook News Feed, filled with posts from conservative LDS Facebook friends that directly and indirectly denounce not only same-sex marriage, but most importantly homosexuality and being attracted to members of the same-sex. Attraction. Within these spaces, many are not even at the point of grasping the acceptability of individuals interested in members of the same sex, and allowing these people to express their interest through romance and relationships. Even if same-sex couples are granted the right to marry, there are still many problems facing people in the LGBTQ community. The fact that people identifying in such a way can only be accepted in my church if they abstain from romantic relationships is one issue, as it’s unfair to deny anyone to feel and experience the Christlike emotion of love, and build a family, which is one of, if not the, most important teaching of the church.

I admire those allies in support of same-sex marriage, as, for some, it reflects a genuine interest in gay and lesbian politics. But I beg that these same people become allies to the LGBTQ community as a whole, and keep this vigor and passion in issues much more plaguing and vital to the larger community. There are causes and actions more worthwhile than changing a profile picture, and these movements call for personal involvement to work towards solutions towards these problems. Because when “faggot” continues to be yelled at me as I walk down the streets of my community at night, I must admit that same-sex marriage is only a pit stop on this journey, with stops of homophobia, acceptance in religious spaces, and LGBT youth and homelessness needing to be addressed. There are many more issues plaguing the community that are vital to the mere survival of some. Before marriage, survival and basic necessities must be met first.