Soy Made Me Gay

I have a few rules with respect to this blog.  One is that I don’t update it more than a two times a week.  Posts generally take me an hour or two to write (including research, links, etc.).  I don’t feel like devoting more time than that to writing about how I’m the sort of fellow that spends at least half an hour (more like 45 minutes) determining what cut of jeans he is going to buy at Target.  Another rule is that I don’t write when I am emotionally down.  When I write in a funk, my writing isn’t very funny and is often, well, depressing.

But today I am breaking that rule.

I’ve been down for a couple of days now.  It started when I went to the temple.  A lot of people enjoy going to the temple because they find it to be spiritually uplifting or at the very least get a since of service out of attendance.  On my mission I was the same way, but then again, my mission was kind of a spiritual “Twilight Zone” that doesn’t seem to have a close relationship to my spiritual life in the real world.  Point being, temple attendance since my mission has been problematic at best.  Instead of feeling lifted up by going, I often left feeling depressed, miserable, and emotionally drained.  The temple seemed to represent everything that had gone wrong in my life and intensified whatever emotional issue I was having at the moment.  Faced with that every time I went, my frequency decreased until I hadn’t gone for quite a while.

But things change, right?

I decided to go to the temple again this week with my close friend.  It had been a long time, but I had faced a lot of my emotional issues head on and felt I was ready to go again.  Shortly after entering, however, I realized I was in for a rough evening.  It was as if I was under constant spiritual attack – so much so that I was completely taken off guard.  I had expected it to be difficult, of course, the level was almost unbearable.  Compounding the situation was the number of people assuming that my friend (a woman and engaged to another friend of mine) and I were a couple.  Someone spoke to me referring to her as my wife.

“We aren’t married,” I said.

“Ah, your girlfriend then,” he continued.

“No. Just friends,” I said quickly.

“Okay, you just look like a couple,” he said.

“Maybe something will blossom there,” a woman in the corner said.

Why wouldn’t they just shut up?  No, we were not a couple.  No, nothing would “blossom there”.  I knew they didn’t mean anything by it and it wasn’t the first time this friend and I were confused for being a couple, but my anxiety was already high and caused me to become really distressed over the exchange.

As the session continued, I was flooded by all the anger, doubt, and worry that had plagued me on previous visits to the temple.  I felt powerless against it.  I sat there trying to keep myself from passing out because of the inundation of negative emotion.  Even old self-disgust reared its ugly head again.  “You’re sick,” came the thought, “You’re a perverted, sick freak.”  I immediately knew the source and knew that it wasn’t me.

“Don’t you dare!” I yelled back in my mind, “DON’T YOU F****NG DARE! Don’t you even start with that bull***t!  That is NOT TRUE!”

I said it was intense.

That line of thought immediately died, but the rest of the confusion and worry continued.  Later as I sat praying much of the intensity had subsided, which left me exhausted.  In a spark of thought I realized my worst fear.  I realized that my worst fear wasn’t to live my life alone.  While a life of general solitude wasn’t what I wanted, I realize what I was more scared that the Lord would tell me that I should get married…to a woman.

Afterward I was talking to my Mom on the phone while pacing around the temple grounds in tears.

“I don’t think He’ll require that of you,” she said.

“He’s done weirder things,” I replied.

She paused.

“I guess this is like Brigham Young and polygamy,” she finally said.

I realized she was right.  While my mind recoiled at the thought of the Lord asking me to pursue heterosexual marriage, it’s not like he hadn’t done something very similar before.  When presented with “The Principle”, Brigham Young responded:

I was not desirous of shrinking from any duty, nor of failing in the least to do as I was commanded, but it was the first time in my life that I had desired the grave, and I could hardly get over it for a long time. And when I saw a funeral, I felt to envy the corpse its situation, and to regret that I was not in the coffin.  (Journal of Discourses, 3:266)

Plural marriage went against his very core, yet he had a desire to be obedient.  He went from wishing for death at the very thought of marrying a second wife to eventually having more than fifty.  The thought of me marrying a woman goes against my very core.  The thought of me eventually even becoming a champion for mixed-orientation marriage I find deeply distasteful.

I don’t believe that I received a command from the Lord to pursue heterosexual relationships.  I don’t see what I felt to even be a heads up that such a command is going to happen down the road.  Maybe it will.  Maybe it won’t.  Whatever happens, the Lord made it clear that He requires that I be willing to give Him everything.  Everything.

And that scares the hell out of me.

I knew that it would come and sure enough, roughly one week after coming out my ward, friends, and the Internet, I caught myself thinking, “well, what now?”

Church went along as normal yesterday (as I expected it to).  Work is going along as normal.  Life is going along as normal.  I knew it would, but it is sometimes strange to actually see it..  The world didn’t explode once I revealed that I, in fact, think Lee Fanning from Pushing Daisies is just adorable.  I wasn’t stoned for making it known that I was in the group of people watching Resident Evil for Eric Mabius, not Milla Jovovich (it’s not like anyone watched it for the plot).  When all was said and done, it wasn’t as important to people that I was gay as much as I was trying to live my life in a Christ-like manner-which is something we have in common.  Sometimes people surprise you.  Sometimes, they wonderfully don’t.

So where do I go from here?  To be honest, I’m not 100% sure.  I have some ideas of a long-term direction, but I’m still figuring things out a bit.  The Church has done its job well; I want a family.  It’s just the whole wife part that I’m not really on board with.  Gay marriage is out.  So…yeah….  A large problem for me is that, well, I don’t like working – at any job.  When I’m the only one who benefits from it, it feels especially pointless.  Sure, sure “keep myself from starving to death in a gutter” carries some motivation, but providing for a family seems like it would be more worthwhile.  Yeah, someone to go through life with would be nice.  It would even be nicer if they were hot….

Anyway.

I’m not dwelling too much on this.  I learned a while ago that if I focus too much on the future, I end up making myself miserable.  The future will happen whether I worry about it or not.  So, I think about it for a while and then leave it alone for a bit.  But yeah, the future…who knows?  You know?

I was sitting in my car yesterday after a shoot while waiting for a guy to come pick up the HD camera.  I was listening to music and wiped the green screen paint off my fingers before switching to the next song on my iPod.  As I listened to “Peace and Hate” by The Submarines, I realized that I felt…weird.  I sat there for a few moments, trying to identify the feeling that I felt.  Once I did, I almost laughed out loud; the feeling that I was having such a hard time identifying was that I felt normal.

Since Sunday, I’ve had my anxious moments, but I’ve never doubted that outing myself was the right thing to do.  The posts on my personal blog, facebook, and this blog were all overwhelmingly supportive.

I tried to make sure that I was at a state where I didn’t view coming out as a solution to anything.  I tried to make sure that I was in a state where if I came out and everything went very wrong, that I would still be okay.  That being said, coming out has been great for my personal self-worth.  Let’s face it, having most of the people that are most important to you (and even complete strangers) tell you that they support you would benefit just about anyone.

I don’t necessarily recommend coming out publicly like I did.  Some people may need some time to come to terms with their own sexuality before they let everyone know.  Some people’s situations are more complicated than mine.  Some are content to just let a few friends and family know and as long as they aren’t constantly plagued by negative thoughts toward themselves, I support them.  I, however, knew that for me to continue as a productive member of the Church, I could not longer live with the thought that I had to keep that part of myself secret.  So I came out, and so far, so good.

But life continues on.  I know that coming out hasn’t solved all my problems.  I know that there will still be loneliness, frustration, and all the other negative emotions that one can think of.  But there is one that I refuse to feel anymore and that is the need to hide myself from the world.

I’m Clint and I am a gay man.  …Friggin awesome.

You know there is always that one testimony every month that makes everyone feel really awkward, avoid eye contact and makes everyone shift uncomfortably in their seat?  Well, I decided to get that one out of the way early this month.

I just wanted to let everyone know why I am here.

My entire life, I’ve on some level known that I was gay.  Growing up gay in the church was really hard.  Living gay and active in the church can be really hard.

But no matter what I want to be true, no matter what I hope to be true, no matter what I think to be true, I know that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is true.  It’s a knowledge that is impossible to take away from me.  (I’ve tried.)  I know President Monson is a prophet of God.  I know the Book of Mormon is true.

I don’t say all this to solicit pity (although I do enjoy a good pity party), guilt, or to shock.  I say this because no matter what our individual situations, the church is amazingly, frustratingly, inconveniently, wonderfully true…so what else matters?

In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I walked passed the bishopric and the stake president (of course he would happen to be there) and down the aisle to my seat back in the chair section.  A third of the way there, I realized that I was looking down.  “Hold your head up!” I forcefully told myself, “You are not ashamed!”  I held my head up as I walked back to my seat.  When I slid into my chair, one friend put his arm around my shoulders, another smiled at me through teary eyes, and another turned around and gave me a smile and a thumbs-up.

So why did I out myself to my entire ward yesterday?

1. To let other gay Mormons know that they aren’t alone.
   I don’t know if there are other gay members of my ward, but if there are, I wanted them to know that there are other gay members out there, doing our best to live the gospel.  Loneliness and isolation are the kryptonite of the gay Mormon.
2. To help remove some of the stigma associated with homosexuality.
   I didn’t plan on it, but I was asked to help bless the sacrament yesterday.  I wanted to be the first one to bear my testimony (rip off the band-aid) and before I went up, I realized the significance of what was going to happen.  I was going to stand up from behind the sacrament table and, in front of the bishopric, the stake president, and my ward, reveal that I was gay.  I wanted to help dispel the myths that if you are gay you are a sinner (well, no more than anyone else at least) and unworthy of participation in the church.  I wanted to show that gay people aren’t disgusting pervs.   I wanted everyone to know that you shouldn’t be ashamed, and I am not ashamed, of being gay.
3. To raise awareness.
   I’ve had people tell me that they thought I might be gay but dismissed the idea because I was active in the church.  I wanted people to know that gay Mormons are out there.  It’s a lot harder to hate a group of people when one of them is sitting next to you in Elders Quorum.
4. To bear my testimony.
   I wanted to come out in testimony meeting because I wanted everyone to know what I believe.  Plus, a lot of my testimony was built while I was sorting out my sexuality.  It is a part of my testimony like my mission, youth classes, and everything else in my life.

Oh, and by the way, my real name is Clint.

I stumbled across an article today online that featured my high school.  It was written several years ago while I was on my mission.  The article was shocking for many reasons (the first being that it featured the tiny school at all).  Mostly, I was surprised by what the article revealed about myself.

I went to a small all-white private school in the rural south.  It was founded in the late sixties when the public school system integrated.  I always knew that the school (and several others scattered about the area) was founded because white parents didn’t want their kids going to school with the black kids who were in the majority.  Part of me always thought that, while the school may have been started based on racist fears: that was a long time ago.  There were several at the school, of course, which still went there because of racist motivations, but most everyone went there to get a higher quality of education than the public school provided.  If a black family wanted to send there kids to my school, they were welcome to, but they just didn’t want to.  Like the churches in the area, the two groups fundamentally didn’t want to mix, so they didn’t.

Most of the racist rhetoric from my youth I’ve since rejected, but one thing I always thought until today was that if a black family did come to our school, they would have been enrolled – their money was just as good as anyone else’s, after all.   It didn’t happen because, like the white parents, the black parents didn’t feel comfortable with their kids being the minority in school.

The article interviewed a man who had served on the board of our school.  I knew him.  At the time of the article, the school had been closed down for about a year due to lack of enrollment.  The man sadly talked about the broken windows and vandalism that had befallen the school since it closed its doors.  I saw a picture of a room that I had passed every day that I went to school there, from kindergarten to the 12th grade.  Once a break room, I had helped to turn it into a computer lab using (of course) outdated equipment.  The interviewer asked the man about race at the school and pointed out that if the school had encourage black families to enroll their kids, then the school might still be open.  The man admitted that it was probably true, but there were several on the board that were dead set against it.  I don’t know if any black families tried to enroll their kids at my school, but I realized that if there had been, they would likely have been turned away.  I was genuinely shocked.

I was naïve.  I always assumed that if it came down to it, people would have done the right thing and allowed black kids to enroll.  It was a shock to realize that people would have rather seen the school closed due to lack of numbers than open its doors to black families.

I often say that I hated high school and well, I mostly did.  Growing up gay in the rural south can really, really suck.  Crap, growing up in the rural south can really suck.  I acknowledge that there were a lot of people at my school that were really good people.  But a lot of those really good people were upholding a racist society because they were afraid to change.  Including me.  I didn’t clamor to be sent to a public school.  To this day I’ve never had a close friend who was black or even talked at length with a black person that wasn’t a coworker or college professor (In America.  Strangely enough I served my mission in a country with a large black population without any hesitation whatsoever).  This is coming from someone who has lived in the south (where white people are generally in the minority) his whole life.  Lack of familiarity has caused me to not be completely comfortable around black people.  I am, in effect, a racist.

But I want to change.

There was a time that I was very uncomfortable around gay people.  If a guy was effeminate, it was even worse.  But I don’t anymore.  The change happened when I became friends with several actively gay men.  I realized that, just like any other group of people, you have gay guys that are shady, untrustworthy, and cruel, but you also have gay guys that are genuine, honest, and extremely kind.  Now, simply being gay, itself, is no longer a factor for me in choosing people to be around.   I want it to be the same for me with black people.

By admitting that I am a racist, I don’t want anyone to think that I look negatively on black people or wish anyone harm, nor do I go out of my way to avoid black people.  I took African American literature courses in college and watched black-directed films in an effort to understand African-American culture.  I know that black people are the same as other people – I simply don’t have enough personal experience to make me 100% comfortable.  In order for that to happen, I have to leave my comfort zone and make an effort to get to know black people on a personal level.

I have a strong knee-jerk reaction against a lot of the anti-gay rhetoric out there.  A lot of it I find offensive because, well, I am gay and I my personal experience screams to the contrary of much of it.  But a lot of the propaganda I have heard before while growing up.  But instead of “gay person” being the subject, I heard “black person”.  For example, I heard in my youth that black people weakened society because they had weak families and were inherently promiscuous.

Hmm…that one sounds familiar.

There were parts about high school that I loved.  A couple of years ago, I was visiting my parents and drove past the site where my school stood.  It had been torn down and I felt a pang of nostalgia for the friends and experiences I had there.  (It’s not like we were marching around with torches and white robes.)  But even as I type this and even as I feel that same nostalgia, I am glad that the school no longer exists.  It was fundamentally a holdout in a racist system that really needs to be abolished.  True, the students that went there just migrated to the neighboring all-white private schools in the area.  No change really happened and the rural south will continue to die culturally unless we realize that we are strengthened by our differences, not weakened by them.  I can’t change other people, but I can change me.

I want to be kind to everyone,
For that is right, you see.
So I say to myself,
“Remember this:
Kindness begins with me.”

“Kindness Begins With Me” Children’s Songbook, 145.

Hi Cliff,

I have a question for you related to this post. If you don’t want to respond here publicly, you can email me the response (or not if you don’t want to at all).

You mention that you reached a point where you felt like God, knowing your situation, would accept whatever decision you made and keep on loving you. From what I’ve learned by reading other people’s experiences regarding this issue, this is a somewhat common feeling amongst those faced with this choice. Even those who choose a different path claim that God stays with them as they are true to their best selves and I believe them.

What is your interpretation as to why there is such a difference between what the Church says will happen and what happens in reality? Do you think this is a situation in which the Church simply feels its doing what’s in the best interest of the group and leaves it up to individuals to receive personal revelation concerning their own lives? What are your personal beliefs of what will happen in the future with this issue?

That said, I do not ask these questions to get you to question your personal choice. I kind of take the C.L. Pearson approach, which is everyone makes their choice according to personal feelings and we wish them the best. I’m just curious as to your thoughts.

-M

I had a bishop one time that was talking about one of his kids who was faced with the large decision of where they should attend college.  The daughter went to her father, the bishop, and asked him what she should do.  He gave her some pros and cons of the schools on her list, but she pressed him further asking specifically what school she should attend.  The father flatly refused.  He said that it was her decision, not his, and he wasn’t going to be blamed if she went to a school and hated it.  It was her decision.

I feel that the place that I came to with the Lord was similar.  I believe that He knew that whatever decision I made needed to be truly mine if it was going to stick at all.  He let me know the pros and the cons, but in the end the decision was mine and He wasn’t going to let me blame Him for my choices.  The decision was made and I truly felt that it was mine and was the right thing for me to do.

But what if my decision had been different?  What if I had decided to leave the Church behind and pursue romantic homosexual relationships?  Would God have still loved me?  Would He have still been with me?  I believe that, yes, He would have loved me and still been with me. Why?

Because He is my Father.

My earthly parents have never abandoned me or shunned me because of my decisions.  Even faced with the potential of me leaving the Church, they let me know that I was always welcome in their home, but there would be “ground rules” if I brought home a boyfriend.  God would have likely done the same thing.  I was still His son and was always welcome, but there would be some things that I would have to forfeit (most of which was Church-worthiness related).  He would “accept” my decision in the context that He would respect it as being my decision, but I also believe Him to strive to encourage me to live the best life I could framed in the decisions that I had made.  I don’t know that for a fact because my decision was the one thing and not the other.  All I know for sure, I guess, was that the Lord wanted me to make the decision for myself and whatever I chose He would love me as His son.  I don’t believe God to be the great abandoner that we sometimes make Him out to be.

As for the “what is your interpretation as to why there is such a difference between what the Church says will happen and what happens in reality?” question, I don’t think this is usually the case.  Often we try to make the doctrine as black and white as we can.  It makes sense.  An “if-you-do-this-then-this-would-happen” approach is a lot easier because it requires relatively little faith, just action.  What happens, though, when bad things happen to good people?  When “ask and ye shall receive” doesn’t seem to work?  When every time you read the scriptures, you feel bad instead of good?

Does it mean that the prophet/Church/scriptures are wrong?

Maybe.  But if the Church is actually true, if the prophet is really the Lord’s mouthpiece, and the scriptures are inspired, then maybe it just means that the world isn’t as black and white as we want it to be.  Maybe the Lord fully intended to teach correct principles and to have us govern ourselves.  Maybe he wanted us to be responsible for our own actions and act for ourselves even if we don’t get a push-button-feel-good response.  Such a world is scary.  It’s a world where making correct decisions can make our life harder/sadder/lonelier.  Where everything can be taken away and there is no guarantee of it being given back in this life.  How do we know if we are making the right decisions if we can’t always look at the consequences for proof?  That is a question that we have to answer for ourselves.  The only promise that we have is that at some point it will all be made right through the Atonement of Jesus Christ, that everything that sucks about this life/bodies/world will be fixed.  But it might not be until after this life.  God said that it would happen.  And I believe Him.

Almost all of the time.