New Art Blog Posts

I have recently published a series of blog posts on my art blog about spiritual themes in contemporary art. Check it out:

The Sacred Experience in Art Spaces Part One

As contemporary society becomes increasingly multicultural, the exclusive nature of the church often isolates the modern worshiper, while simultaneously allowing the modern art patron to appreciate religious symbols in art from many cultures. The practice of organized religion is on the decline, and in its absense, many are turning to art.

The Sacred Experience in Art Spaces Part Two

Though it isn’t often discussed, spirituality was actually a major theme in the art of the nineties because artists used the body in a spiritual way.

The Sacred Experience in Art Spaces Part Three

Of all the contemporary artists working with spiritual themes, Bill Viola is in a league of his own. Viola creates emotional, painterly videos that reference birth and death, the natural elements, human expressions and relationships, and religious iconography. His work creates a humanist, or art based, spirituality. 

The Separation of Church and Building Codes

Rendering for the new MTC building courtesy The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, via the Salt Lake Tribune.

The LDS Church is attempting to build a nine-story building in the Provo Missionary Training Center, and some neighbors are concerned about the building’s height. The story should not be newsworthy—as I have learned in my Boston Architecture class this summer, some neighbors almost always oppose the height of new buildings—but recently the Church used its ecclesiastical authority to help minimize the opposition, and that has made this an important story to follow.

Make a New Beginning

I am many things--husband, son, brother, barista, writer, artist, humanist, former Mormon, homosexual--It's funny how something like a blog can pinpoint two of those many labels and make it seem to define my existence. For so long to the people who read this blog I am the gay man who grew up Mormon. The problem is as I get further and further away from Mormonism I have less and less to say about what it means to be a gay Mormon. So this blog gets updated more sporadically and gets fewer readers. It may be soon time to cut the cord!

I do have other blogs. AlwaysHoldingHands.blogspot.com is my blog as a husband, friend, and relative. I use it for occasional personal updates and pictures, and you are welcome to follow me there. I also have been using blog.dembree.com more and more. Blog.dembree.com is my blog as an artist, and I use it post images and announce events and make goals. I will be updating it more frequently with thoughts about the things that influence my art (many of which are relevant to you fellow gay Mormons/former Mormons), other artists, work in progress, and new artwork. I invite you follow me over there as well!

Make it Better

13 Forest Gallery in Arlington, MA presents It Gets Better / Make it Better, a group show juried by Paula Tognarelli, Executive Director of the Griffin Museum in Winchester. The show presents work by nine artists from across the country. Initially intended to highlight issues of bullying and homophobia - both internal and external - the work in It Gets Better/Make It Better also deals with racial and gender identity as well as environmentalism.

I am honored to have four pieces in the show dealing with overcoming internal homophobia from my suit vs. tuxedo series. The work will be on display February 17 - April 1, 2011, with an opening reception this Thursday, February 17 from 7 to 9 and an Artist Talk March 17 from 7 to 9 pm. The work is for sale and a portion of the proceeds benefits P-FLAG.

But I'm Not the Only One

I have been thinking a lot lately about how I could get along better with people who I really disagree with. I'm trying to temper myself a bit and stop seeing things in left/right, right/wrong, us/them terms. I read a column today over at 365gay.com that really touched me and seemed to fit in with those thoughts. I thought I'd share.

When my Grandfather Learned I was 'Queer'
by John Corvino

A diversity speaker I know (who also happens to be a dear friend) is fond of saying, “People do the best they can with what they have.”

When I first heard her say this, my immediate reaction was, “Well, that’s obviously false.”

In fact, I still think it’s false. Some people make more of the hand they’re dealt than others; some put in considerable effort, others very little. Some, frankly, are just lazy callous bastards.

But I’ve come to understand that her aphorism isn’t best read as a description. It’s a guideline. When interpreting others’ actions—especially hurtful ones—adopt a principle of charity. They’re not trying to hurt you: they’re doing the best they can with what they have.

I Think I Want to Marry You

If individuals have the right to choose their spouse, and if spouses are equal partners without different gender-defined roles, then gay couples have the right to marry. Many today -- including the Mormons -- do believe men and women have distinct roles in marriage, and therefore don't believe gay couples can marry, but as far as our society is concerned, these changes have already happened. Gender equality is a legal and social reality now, and so, therefore, is gay marriage.

There's a great editorial today making this point in the Washington Post:
Gay marriage isn't revolutionary. It's just next.

Peace on Earth, and Mercy Mild

Merry Christmas!

That's right, I am wishing you a Merry Christmas. I've been thinking a lot this holiday season about some of the religious symbolism behind Christmas. I'm not one who gets bothered or upset by it. I find a lot of beauty in it, and I see no need to replace Merry Christmas with Happy Holidays (nor do I see a reason to be offended if anyone else does).

One of our family traditions each Christmas Eve is to act out the nativity story. I was thinking last night about my future children putting on the skit with their future cousins. It is fun to see kids dressing up like wise-men, angels, and shepherds and putting on a show, and I'm sure they will have fun doing it. I don't believe in the virgin birth of God, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate the tradition. For me, putting on a nativity skit is no different from putting on a skit about Rudolf the red nosed reindeer or Santa Claus. All are stories we tell children to share virtues we want them to develop. Santa Claus encourages children to behave and respect their elders. Rudolf reminds us to treat others who are different kindly.

The nativity too reminds us of virtues. It instills in us a sense of humility, and of awe and adoration for even those who might be overlooked, like a child. It also tells us of our potential as it reminds us that we all enter this world in humble circumstances as a vulnerable infant. Perhaps that is why nearly ever culture has a virgin birth story. Myths are universal. The fact that they don't represent actual or true history doesn't denigrate their significance or importance.

With myth, the facts don't matter. It doesn't matter that the census that brought travelers to Bethlehem happened in 6 AD, ten years after Herod (the same who supposedly reigned while Christ was born and ordered the death of all infants) died. Because Joseph, Mary, and Jesus aren't the people who really matter when we put on our play every Christmas Eve. The people that matter are the kids with the towels on their heads or the wire-hanger halos and our shared time together, and that's why we pass on the tradition.

So Happy Birthday Jesus, Sol Invictus, Horus, Mithra, Zoroaster, and of course the Sun, and thank you for giving us a reason to tell stories, learn virtues, and spend time together.

Now I'm Done Believing You

Boyd K. Packer's words have caused me tremendous pain over the years. As a teenager, his rhetoric and false statements about homosexuality caused me to feel alone, isolated, fearful, hateful, shamed, and self-loathing. I believe his statements and the statements of other LDS authorities contributed significantly and directly to my many periods of depression and even suicidal thoughts. There were specific general conference talks that I read or heard from the pulpit that caused me extreme emotional turmoil. After hearing these talks, I would punish myself by imagining myself being violently beaten by baseball bats --all because of attractions I did not choose and could not change. These conference addresses also made it more difficult for me to accept myself and to pursue healthy relationships. Despite many Mormon's protests to the contrary, those kinds of statements (recently repeated by Packer) which indicate that homosexuality is chosen, alterable, and--more than anything--undesirable are dangerous and are not of God.

The fact that those messages are broadcast to millions of people across the globe is beyond unsettling and is what I call spiritual abuse. It is particularly disturbing knowing that young men and women--eleven, twelve, fourteen--are hearing that message and cannot properly understand it. They don't have the capacity to separate the ideas of attractions and behavior--they know only that they are attracted to the same gender and that it is bad. And if God's proclaimed spokesman asks, "Why would God do that to anyone?" imagine what that young person is thinking about himself.

Boyd K. Packer should be called out for his spiritually abusive words, but I have found that getting worked up about it doesn't help me feel better. We cannot control the Mormon Church, but we can control what messages we hear and what messages we share. I believe the best way forward is to try to promote as best we can the message that homosexuality is not wrong and that same sex relationships are healthy and fulfilling. Stop listening to the Mormon authorities. Don't give them attention. Don't spread their message. Instead, lets turn our attention to hope and spread as much of that as we can to as many people as we can.

Invite this so Called Chaos

In my last post I wrote about recent feelings of detachment from Jesus. That is not to say that I am without spirituality. I would consider myself a very spiritual person, and though I am jaded with organized Religions, I still practice religion (small r) in my own way.

As a Mormon I remember hearing others say similar things about their spirituality and not being able to wrap my head around it. How can you be spiritual outside of Religion? For those who wonder, I thought I'd explain how it works for me. This is what I wish someone had shared with me:


Spiritual Experiences

When I think about spiritual experiences I think about two types of experiences--inspiration and euphoric feelings. I used to be afraid that if I left the Church I would loose both, but actually I have these experiences just as often as before. I still have moments of inspiration when I write, draw, sleep, reflect, and make decisions. And quite frankly, these "personal revelations" are taking me down a great path, because everything is really working out for me. My art is going in a new direction I am excited about. I have a great husband and a stable life. I am happy.

I also experience a holy sensation comparable to the "burning in the bosom" I used to experience as a Mormon. I say comparable because it is different. It is calmer, less fraught with desperation, and it is less fleeting. I would describe these spiritual experiences now as more of a peaceful, satisfying assurance that things are good and that there is beauty in the world--it's a better feeling than before, and I experience it when I am surrounded by beauty in nature, architecture, or even my own thoughts.

Sacraments

Mormons call them ordinances, but everyone else calls them sacraments--these are rites of passage, rituals that advance you from one stage to another. On my mission I knew there was a possibility I would leave the Church, and I wondered how I could replace these rites. I thought I might have to create elaborate ceremonies on my own to satisfy my need for ritual. Not so.

I think the biggest sacrament a gay man goes through is the process of coming out. Though it is different for everybody, it is a rite of passage, and for me it changed everything. It opened doors. It made me a better, more honest person. It was like baptism, washing away old habits and renewing me with a new life and community.

Marriage was also a holy sacrament for me, as it is also in Religion. We made our marriage ceremony unique to us, loaded with personal symbols that made the day sacred and significant. The wedding was definitely a rite that changed me forever. And looking forward I see other rites of passage in the future that will shape me--graduating grad school, buying our first home, having a child. And I also see traditions that provide that sense of ritual I need--vacations with friends, holidays with family, anniversaries with Michael.

Doctrine

I still have beliefs, though they are different than what I believed as a Mormon. I believe in eternal life, though I believe it is less physical than most Latter-day Saints believe. I believe life has meaning and purpose. I believe it's okay to not know things. I believe it's okay for people to believe in different things, both being right and neither being wrong.

Beyond simple beliefs, there are principles that guide my life--a creed, if you will. It's too complicated to describe here completely, but I'll tell you how it came about. The way I see it Christianity has organized the Universe into two categories: good and evil. I didn't like that dichotomy, though, and so I decided to organize the world differently. I created two different categories to explain the Universe (neither being good or evil--more like yin and yang). I believe peace comes in balancing these too forces. But enough of that--it's too hard to explain here, I just want to demonstrate that I still have "doctrine" in my life. I don't view my "doctrine" as some sort of capital T ultimate truth, rather it is just the way that I look at the world--a way that works for me.

Deity

Just because I don't feel like Jesus is active in my life right now doesn't mean I don't believe in the Divine. I will say that I don't believe in the God of Mormonism--a tangible man of glorified flesh who lives in a tangible place with a wife (wives?). There are too many problems with the idea of a corporeal God, and it's just not how I have experience her. That's right. Her. When I was in the Caribbean last year, I felt very strongly that there was some sort of awesome power at work in nature. The sea and the weather and the geography and the birds and the turtles and all of nature there just seemed so powerful and so in sync. It just felt like God, but at the same time, it was so obviously feminine. It wasn't subtle at all. Creation and life and nature is very female. I don't believe that God is literally a woman--like I said, I don't believe in a corporeal God, but I do believe that the Divine is as much woman as it is man, if not more so.

Really I just use the word God to describe that awesome, inexplicable power behind this world. There is something incredible about the way the world works, and rather than try to explain it, I'd rather just have a reverent awe for the mystery of it. I don't need to know how it all comes together, I just need to respect the fact that it does.

Worship

It is that reverent awe that is worship, and frankly I think I worship more now than I did as a Mormon. For some reason, Mormons don't do worship very well. Maybe it is because they don't allow for mystery and instead seek to explain everything. Whatever the reason, they seem to prefer meetings to worship services. I find myself expressing awe and celebrating mystery and the divine more now, which is funny because I have a much less concrete Deity to worship. I guess that's what makes it easier, though, when God is everywhere, so is worship.


So I guess if I were to address my former Religious self wondering how to be religious after Religion, this what I would say: Yes, you can still be spiritual if you leave your Church. In fact, you can be more spiritual. So stop saying "I know this Church is true" and start embracing mystery. Amazing things happen when you let go of the need to know.

I Stand All Amazed

Today I walked by a beautiful Church a few blocks away from our home. The doors were open, and the service had just started. I could hear singing, and see the light streaming though exquisite stained glass windows. Near the door was a welcome sign that said all were welcome with a little rainbow flag in the corner telling me that they really meant all. My husband and I could have sat down at the pews and others would have looked at us and smiled as we worshiped Christ holding hands with each other. A small part of me wanted to join just because we can, but as a whole, I still feel on the outside of Christianity despite the rainbow symbols in almost every Church doorway here. The problem is my experiences with Mormonism ruined Jesus for me, and it makes me so mad. When I was younger, my view of Jesus was simple, and it was easy to love him. I mean, if you set aside questions about the historical figure or how literally his divinity should be interpreted, and just look at his life story for the simple merits of the story, the idea of Jesus should resonate with gay men more than the heroes and gods of other myths.

Here is a man who comes out of an established religion and criticizes its obsession with rules, questions its authority, and advocates a higher more spiritual way of worshiping. He preaches compassion, mercy, and forgiveness towards groups that are disadvantaged. He encourages tender characteristics like kindness, love, gentleness, and humility, and he encourages nurturing activities like healing, community service, and comforting the afflicted. He surrounds himself with men, and (courtesy of the Catholic Church) he is devoid of the rampant heterosexuality commonly associated with the central heroes of other myths. He promises his followers comfort, peace, and eternal life. He is persecuted by the predominant religion of the region, and he associates with people largely considered social, political, and even sexual deviants. He is betrayed to the authority and is tried for crimes he isn’t guilty of, and then he is killed despite his innocence. If ever there was a figure to champion the distressed, the downtrodden, the misunderstood, or the persecuted minority, it is Jesus Christ. And as a deity he is portrayed in graceful linens, with a hero’s abs (courtesy of gay Catholic artists), and typically with unusually good hair. His followers worship him often with elaborate, beautiful clothing/settings/props, and almost always with theatrical drama. I should love his life, his story, and his followers—his is the ultimate gay man’s myth/hero/deity! More significantly, he was someone I could relate to.

But unfortunately when I think of Jesus now, my mind turns to the role he played in my faith when I was in college and trying to come out of the closet in the midst of a social war. At BYU during my last experiences in Mormonism, Jesus was used as weapon against my new identity and my future. He became the lawgiver, not the lawbreaker—one who enforces the nit picky rules of pamphlets instead of seeing past them. Now I think of him as perfection and as the perfectionist demanding my perfection. I see him as Greg Olsen portrays him, made of wax in sickly yellow light looking over Jerusalem with sad condemnation. If he offers comfort, guidance, or support, it is patronizing and hollow, disregarding what I feel or want for what I am "supposed" to feel or want. I think of him as judge, looking sternly from his picture frame over the shoulder of the Bishop who asks invasive questions and decides whether or not I should be allowed to attend classes. I think of him as the head of the Church, the voice behind Thomas S. Monson and the creeds of men—the rallying call behind Proposition 8. I think of him as being perfectly obedient, never questioning authority. I think of him as a heterosexual married man, not because there are tender stories of romance, but because he is the perfect priesthood holder. He is a patriarch, the man in charge who keeps his wife (wives?) quietly stowed away and hidden from the public. I think of him as he is portrayed in eternity, not with beautiful hair and heroic abs but as the mirror image of a more distant sci-fi, Zeus-like father, white and old and alien, with light so bright you can’t even look at him and with the great expansive, unreachable cosmos behind him.

I realize that portrayal of Jesus is not what every Mormon knows, and I’m glad. You may think of him as the way I first described him, or perhaps in a different way entirely but a way that still resonates with you, and that’s great. But unfortunately for me, I am stuck on this Jesus who isn’t very Jesus-like, and it makes me mad. With that view of Jesus, is it any wonder that I am looking elsewhere for inspiration? Is it any wonder than when I seek the divine in nature I see it in a goddess? Can you blame me when I want the majesty of a god and I turn to Apollo? Or for goodness sake when I need spiritual inspiration and have to find it in Aang the airbender, a children’s cartoon character? Some day, when I am ready, I would like to reread the gospels and try to see Jesus without all the projected baggage from my Mormon past, and maybe then I can love him the way I want to love him if not the way I once loved him. Until then I will pass the open doors of inclusive Churches and still feel detached from the Christ they worship.

Your Words are the Only Words

Before and shortly after Proposition 8 passed, facebook was my own personal hell because of the awful things my friends at BYU and elsewhere said about the Proposition, about homosexuality, and about marriage. My newsfeed was a charged minefield, so this week when the Proposition was overturned, I braced myself for the onslaught of negative comments, statuses, and notes. It never came.

There was only one note a friend posted that was an unreasonably negative reaction, and it was from someone I don't know very well who lived in a ward I served in California on my mission. I have since removed him as a facebook contact. Nothing else clogged my newsfeed. There were occasional rebuttals to wall posts celebrating the decision, but nothing like the slew of hatred splattered across the Internet before and after the November 2008 election.

At first I wondered if maybe my friends who oppose gay marriage blocked me from their statuses and notes because I am married and they didn't want to offend me. I appreciate the consideration if that's the case, but I don't think people really think their statuses through that carefully. Perhaps my marriage has actually helped to change their mind on Proposition 8--but I shouldn't flatter myself.

I don't think the trend is just on my facebook wall (did anyone else notice a difference?). Rachel Maddow commented last night on the silence from politicians on the right who she expected to react in outrage. The Huffington Post reported an analysis of twitter updates in the wake of Judge Walker's ruling and found that only 17% of related tweets were negative, the remaining 83% supported or celebrated the decision. Here's the twitter breakdown:

So why aren't the conservative majority of Americans or even Californians mourning their loss? I believe it is because they never had anything to lose. Gay people are the only ones who ever had anything at stake in the Prop 8 battle. If Prop 8 proponents had lost in 2008, they would have lost nothing--nothing would have changed for them, but because it passed, gay people suffered great losses. Now that the tables are being reversed (though not yet permanently), gay people are recovering their losses, and the proponents still lose nothing. Nothing will change for them. And that's why there is no outrage.

In any event, I am glad that facebook is a pleasant place for me this week when I didn't think it would be.

Baby, It's Fact

Judge Walker's verdict is a fascinating and fairly clear read, and is certainly worth reading. It will be quoted in history books, though I think it is actually Judge Brown's verdicts that will be the most effective when all three gay marriage trials make it to the Supreme Court. What makes Judge Walker's verdict so interesting to me is how heavily he relies on the evidence and testimony of trial, almost all of which was provided by those in favor of gay marriage.

At issue is really whether or not gay marriages are marriages, because both parties agree that the right to marry is a fundamental right. Proponents of proposition 8 contend that the potential to procreate is intrinsic to the definition of marriage, which automatically excludes as a class same sex couples. But after tracing the history of marriage as a legal term, Judge Walker demonstrates that the potential to procreate has never been a requirement for marriage in the United States.

"The right to marry has been historically and remains the right to choose a spouse and, with mutual consent, join together and form a household ... Today, gender is not relevant to the state in determining spouse's obligations to each other and to their dependents ... Same-sex couples are situated identically to opposite-sex couples in terms of their ability to perform the rights and obligations of marriage under California law. FF48. Marriage under law is a union of equals." (pg. 113 of Perry vs. Schwarzenegger)

Using this definition of the right to marry, equal protection and due process in the constitution guarantee our right to choose a spouse regardless of gender. We can only hope that the SCOTUS will uphold the right to marry as the right to choose a spouse, but I think Judge Walker provides a compelling case given the evidence and testimony submitted in trial and given legal precedent.

It's Always Better When We're Together

I read an interesting article in the Washington Post about Catholic Latinos. 57% of Catholic Latinos in California support gay marriage, as compared to only 22% of Protestant Latinos. Both groups are grounded in strong family values, but that means different things to the different groups which may be why they view gay rights differently.

For most Catholic Latinos, family values means family loyalty. They spend a lot of time with their family, and their religious worship is based on family milestone events, holidays, and cultural festivals. For them, family is family, so if a child comes out of the closet, he or she is still family and should still be loved, included, and defended. Because of this, Catholics Latinos "say they trust the parents of gay and lesbian children more than their own clergy as a source of information about homosexuality." (Public Religion Research Poll) They support gay people because they support their sons and daughters, cousins, nieces and nephews, brothers and sisters, etc who are gay.

Protestants, on the other hand, believe in family values as they connect to their more individual based worship. Family values means teaching children to seek out individual salvation, usually through a personal conversion experience that leads one to confess Jesus as personal Lord and Savior. In practice this makes them like many Latter-day Saints who are more prone to believe what their religious leaders say about homosexuality than their own gay family members.

I see both attributes--family loyalty and individual family morality--in Latter-day Saint culture, but unfortunately I see too much of the second and not enough of the first. I wish Latter-day Saint families would more often react with loyalty to their children who come of the closet instead of loyalty to the general pronouncements of church authorities. I am blessed to have family that fall somewhere in the middle. My parents do trust what their leaders in Salt Lake tell them, but they are also loyal to their children and showed support by coming to my wedding even though they didn't believe I should marry a man. My heart goes out to those young gay Mormons who are not so lucky.

Somewhere Along in the Bitterness

Please light another candle tonight for all of those gay Mormons who have taken their own lives. I am deeply saddened by the gay Mormon suicides this month (apparently there were three), and I feel a sense of failure for their losses even though I didn't know them. Could I have made myself and my story more accessible? Could I have offered them hope, or solace, or peace?

Let's work hard to create a future where death is never more desirable than life for our gay Mormon brothers and sisters.

They've Got Us Pinned Terribly

Michael and I planned our wedding almost entirely by ourselves, which was great because it allowed us to make the decisions we wanted to make. Our wedding was in every way our dream event.

It was hard at first to plan the wedding because neither of us had a lot to go on. Growing up I thought I would be married in an LDS temple, so the only thing I ever thought about with my future wedding was which temple it would be in (I had to find a girl who was from a city with a beautiful temple like San Diego).

Once that was out the window, I had nothing. I haven’t been to many weddings in my life in general. I have only been to three non-LDS weddings—at the age of 5, 8, and 13, so I wasn’t exactly taking notes. I had never been to a same sex wedding—who has? Even if I had, there isn’t a long tradition for them. On the one hand, all of this gave us a freedom to be creative and create something unique, but it also meant we didn’t have a foundation to build on, so as soon as we started to plan our wedding, I began researching weddings. Over the thirteen months it took us to plan it and pull it all together, I learned a lot about the components of weddings in different cultures, the history of American wedding traditions/styles/fads, and wedding etiquette.

I’ve thought a lot about how all that—wedding components, traditions, and etiquette—in most weddings compares to the LDS Temple weddings I was initially most accustomed to. For one thing, after my wedding, my grandma told me how much it meant to her that she could see our faces as we exchanged vows. As a nonmember in a Mormon family, she isn’t allowed to go to weddings. She couldn’t see my parents exchange vows, or my aunt, or her other grandchildren, or her siblings, or her nieces and nephews. In fact, in my family, my wedding was the first in 16 years that everyone (Mormon, non-Mormon, or child) was invited to attend. For people like my grandma, that is kind of sad. No one ever told her they missed her at those weddings, and she said that until she saw the joy in our faces she hadn’t even realized what she was missing by being excluded.

If you’ve ever been to a temple wedding, you know how underwhelming it can be. There isn’t much to miss. Their ceremonies don’t include any of the traditional Christian components like the processional, readings, exchange of rings, etc. If you haven’t been to one, I can tell you that Mormon weddings aren’t designed for an audience. They are brief, simple, and full of symbolism that is only meaningful to those who have been initiated in the temple. None of that is consolation, though, for my grandma who would have liked to see my dad’s eyes when he took my mom as his wife.

There are a lot of unique and truly wonderful aspects of Mormon weddings. The idea that they extend forever is very beautiful, and I like how clear it is that marriage includes obligations and promises that will be hard to keep. I also like how affordable they are—that there is a push away from materialism and excess and a focus on the spiritual aspects of the union. But in all, I am very glad that I didn’t have a temple wedding. I am glad my grandma could be there, and my friends. I am glad we got to design our own ceremony, choosing those things that were meaningful to us and omitting anything that wasn’t. I am glad we got to write our own vows. I am glad we could choose the venue. I am glad we could create our own traditions, and make it our dream event.

And They'll Believe Us To, Soon

I'm so grateful for all of the congratulatory notes, facebook messages, cards, and gifts we got, but I am particularly pleased with those that came from active Mormons. So many active Mormons had supportive things to say during and after my wedding, and frankly, it surprised me. The messages came from people who didn't have to send them. I received a dozen such congratulatory notes from former missionaries from my mission, and many more from people in my wards at BYU, a Sunday school teacher from my childhood, parents of friends, and former seminary friends.

One active Mormon who in High School had boasted that he was a homophobe, wrote, "I heard you were getting married! I trust it was a very special event. I'm really glad you are happy and wish you all the best ..." That was a common comment--"I am glad you are happy." Many said they could see that I was happy in my wedding photos.

I'm still trying to sort out what this all means. Does it mean that a large portion of active Mormons are not on the same page as their Salt Lake leaders on the issue of gay marriage? Maybe not--these same people may even still vote against gay marriage if given the opportunity (that is a disturbing thought). Maybe it means that my wedding showed them happiness is obtainable outside the narrow confines of Mormonism. Or maybe it just means that they can  disassociate my decisions and their beliefs. I don't know, I'm still wrapping my head around it.

I will say this though. While it is still impossible for me as a man married to a man to be a member of the Church, that doesn't mean faithful Mormons have to or will exclude me from their friendship. There is no doubt that you can believe in my right to marry and celebrate it and still be an active member of the Church. That means that if you have something less than supportive to say about my marriage, you can't use "I'm Mormon" as your excuse for bigotry.

You Have Stolen My Heart

Today is my two-week-iversary. Michael and I were married two weeks ago today. In so many ways life has just gone on as normal. After nearly three years together, we know what to expect from each other. At the same time, there are a few things that feel very different.

More than anything, I suddenly feel very secure. I'm married now! Completely married--emotionally, physically, legally. I have a marriage license, and I am fortunate enough to live in a state that not only issued it but recognizes it. Thanks to the 5th and 10th amendments, it looks like even President Obama will have to recognize it. (There is an excellent explanation of the DOMA decision over at 365). I didn't think I would feel all of that in this way.

I never realized how insecure I used to be. I used to get so worked up about having rights and fighting for them. Every time someone said something homophobic in the public or private sphere, I took it personally. Glenn Beck used to give me panic attacks. I used to go out of my way to read what Mormon leaders said on the topic, and I would be really bothered by it. I was obsessed with having a community and making connections with other gay Mormons. I really cared about the future of the Mormon Church, and my relationship to it. I don't know how else to describe it other than to say I was insecure.

But now none of that seems to matter to me. Rather than finding out what Mormons/conservatives/Baptists/Republicans have to say about gay rights, I'd rather worry about how the new living room furniture looks or what I'm going to make my new husband for dinner. I have a partner--someone that I will always be with. No one--not Maggie Gallagher, not Thomas Monson, not Barack Obama, not my parents, not Glenn Beck--can take Michael away from me. He is mine, and I am his. We have our rights, our protections, our obligations, our promises, our security. I realize that in more places in this world than not this is not the case, and I am still passionate about my hope to extend these rights and securities to the rest of the world for other couples (and for us if we travel or move). But for some reason being married just takes away a lot of the anxiety around it. I can understand how straight couples take this security for granted. I am so grateful for those who have fought so hard to make my marriage a possibility, because now that I have it, I don't know how I lived without it.

Nothing brings more peace, satisfaction, or security to me than having a husband.

You Reap What You Sow

Recent news articles like this one in The Arizona Republic have discussed the fallout between the Mormon Church and Latin members, investigators, and potential converts in Arizona. Missionaries are having more doors slammed in their faces, and pews are thinning out because many Latin Americans don't want to be a part of the same Church as Sen. Russell Pearce who sponsored the new Arizona law clamps down on undocumented immigrants. We saw similar fall out two years ago in the wake of proposition 8.

Unless the LDS Church wants to become more politically and socially homogeneous and more narrow in its outreach and its capacity to influence others, it needs to embrace more liberals and liberal ideals. It's not enough anymore to be politically neutral. The Church actually didn't take a stand on the immigration law, but because a prominent Mormon Senator did, the effect is the same. They will need to distance themselves from him to contain the damage or it will get worse.

Beyond this issue in Arizona, I see this trend becoming more of a problem for the Church the closer we get to 2012. I actually think it would be a very bad thing for Mormons if Mitt Romney secures the republican nomination. The bigger Mitt Romney gets, the more the public will associate his republican platform with Mormonism. Not only will it isolate liberal or Democrat Mormons, it will drive away potential converts and limit the outreach of the Church for a very long time. I've said it before and I'll say it again, the Church has an untapped pool of potential converts. If they want to reach those people, they have got to accept gays, immigrants, liberals, and all those people who are different from the bulk of the membership and who have so much to offer. Perhaps, though, the Church doesn't want to reach out to those people. Maybe they want to be as white, bland, and homogenized as milk.

Burning Through My Darkest Night

On Saturday I went to New York City for the first time. We caught a train in New Haven with our friends after lunch. On the train there was a man who wandered down the aisles talking about nonsense. He smelled of vodka, sweat, and stale urine and had a long greasy pony tail. He was missing at least four significant teeth, but it didn't stop him from flapping his gums at everyone on the train.

After pacing from the front of the car to the back at least fifty times he sat down right behind me, next to these two girls. They didn't know what to do, so the they smiled uncomfortably as he rambled nonsensically. There were four policeman waiting at the next station when the train pulled up. The man, who had been approached earlier by the conductor, shouted, "They're never gonna take me alive," but then peacefully allowed the police to escort him away. As soon as he was gone, we all started talking about the experience. A woman came and sat down where he'd been sitting and she laughed about it with us and the other poor girls who'd had to put up with the drunk. We were all strangers, but because of the experience we chatted as if we all knew each other.

When the train pulled into the Grand Central Station and I stepped into New York, I as predictably blown away by how big everything was and how many people there were--Homeless people, vendors, bicyclists, taxi drivers, business men, a bride and a groom, another bride and a groom in a carriage, a men in tuxedos and women in ballgowns in the afternoon. There were well dressed men, well dressed women, families, immigrants, artists, old men with hats. There were people everywhere in this city that seemed to go on for miles. We walked for miles--strolled through Central Park, shopped in the SoHo area, hung out in Stonewall, ate dinner in the West Village--and we must have passed millions of people.

One of those people that we passed was that woman from the train--the one who'd sat down where the drunk had sat and chatted with us. We didn't plan the encounter. We were just walking to dinner on a random street between Soho and the West Village--far from Central Station--when we passed each other. She recognized us, and again we talked about the strange experience on the train and marveled at how remarkable it was that we'd seen her again that day. If there had been no drunk on the train, if we hadn't had that strange experience, we may still have passed her on the street hours later, but we wouldn't have recognized her face or known that she had been on the train with us earlier. It was the first experience that made the second encounter significant. Afterwords we tried to figure out how we'd run into her. Out of the millions of people we saw and didn't see in that city, I have no idea what the odds are for such a random meeting, but it is very improbable. It shouldn't have happened, and yet it did. The whole thing made the world feel so small and life so planned out down the tiniest poetic detail.

This weekend I have thought a lot about my relationship with Michael. He and I complement each other so well that our constant compromises are so subtle I don't even notice them. It's almost like we view the world with the same lens. In every way he is perfect for me. It's a miracle I ever found him. He is my first love--my first real boyfriend. It should have taken a million dates to find a person who was half as good for me as he is, but I found him basically at the first try. I think the odds of that happening are about as likely as the odds of running into that not so anonymous woman from the train in the middle of New York City. It's so far beyond improbability that it makes me want to believe in God just so I can have an explanation for it. It's remarkable.

You Don't Know What I'm Feeling

More than a year ago I posed this question: What would missionaries say to a gay couple if they knocked on their door and they were interested in their message?

I am still curious about this because I think it reveals a lot about the future of the Mormon Church. Gay families exist, and they will continue to exist. As they are viewed with increasing normalcy, how will the Mormons deal with the fact that excluding them is unfavorable and looks bad? How will they treat this large pool of untapped potential converts? Will they even want to convert these families?

In my googling I stumbled across a blog that invites everyone to listen to the missionaries the next time they stop at your door. I posed my question to them. For clarity and potency sake, I did speak as if I was already married, when I will actually not be married until June (but I have been with Michael for 2 1/2 years, and June is so close!).

Are you as surprised as I am by the response? He is basically telling me that I would not only have to get divorced, but that I would want to get divorced! And though he calls it a "great sacrifice" he also refers to it as "frustrating." Furthermore, he expects me to seek out and invite the missionaries over knowing that if they do come over and I do like what they say I will have to get divorced. Frustrating is an understatement.

I realize that this is just one man's response/opinion, and that it doesn't reflect the Church or the missionaries as a whole. In fact, I think his response does not represent what would happen at all. I used to be a missionary, and while I was on my mission I never had to determine what I would do in this scenario because every gay person whose door I knocked sent me packing, but if I had stumbled across a gay family, I would not have taught them. They couldn't join the Church as a family, and therefore they couldn't be considered "progressing investigators," and so I wouldn't have taught them, and I doubt many missionaries would. This is consistent with history. I pointed out in my original post that it is not an entirely new scenario. What did missionaries do prior to 1978 when they knocked on the door of black families? Nothing. They just excused themselves and knocked on the next door. I suspect that is what would happen today as well.

Maybe it was unfair of me to pose this question on his blog disingenuously, but my curiosity was sincere. I think the ease and flippancy with which he responds--lacking any sort of sympathy or understanding of how painful and traumatic divorce is--actually tells us as gay people that we have failed to help Mormons like him understand our relationships. Divorce is messy, gay or straight! Custody battles, division of assets, not to mention emotional history and scarring ... He would never have said that so easily if he was counseling a man to leave his wife for conversion sake, which means he doesn't understand that my relationship with Michael is just as significant, deep, and beautiful as a straight one would be. That is what really makes me the most sad coming away from this. How can we as a community really show the LDS people that our relationships are meaningful? How can I express the seriousness with which I take my marriage vows? Because until they see all of that, they won't understand why we are valid, and why they can't just write us off.