I'll Find Repose in New Ways

I was fourteen the first time I thought about taking my life. I felt overwhelming shame, largely because I was attracted to the same gender, and I had been taught that was an abomination. The inner conflict was agony, and it was exhausting. I wanted relief--just some rest from it all. I seriously considered suicide as a way to have that relief when I was 18 and was about to go on a mission. In the end, it was that very mission that allowed me to iron out my issues, and I never again contemplated suicide, but it continued to affect me.

Two months after returning from my mission, and around the same time I was coming to terms with my sexuality and coming out of the closet, a young BYU student, who was gay, killed himself. It devastated my gay friends who had been close to him, and sent ripples though out our community. I felt a need to reach out to others who were gay and LDS and to encourage them to embrace a life that made them happy. I didn't want death to ever be more desirable than life for anyone, but especially for these people I felt a connection to because of our shared history or condition.

Today is 10 years after Stuart Matis shot himself on the steps of his stake center. I believe that sharing his story prevents suicide. Awareness makes a tremendous difference. If I had known during those dark periods of my life that I wasn't the only one suffering, it would have helped me come to terms with things so much sooner. It was ultimately the realization that I was not alone that lead me to accept homosexuality. Of course it would have also helped if I could have had even the smallest glimpse into the happiness I now have over my life, my partner, and my anticipated marriage.

Education would also have made a tremendous difference. My life was unbearable because I had been misinformed about homosexuality and because those closest to me had been misinformed about homosexuality. The only way to fight those wrong teachings is to do everything in our power to spread correct information. Knowledge is power, and in this case, it is the power to save lives.

To honor the memory of Stuart Matis I am recommitting myself to his hope, which was that "Perhaps [his] death … might become the catalyst for much good." He wrote in a letter to his family, “I’m sure that you will now be strengthened in your resolve to teach the members and the leaders [of the Church] regarding the true nature of homosexuality.” So I promise today and in the future that I will do my part to teach Latter-day Saints about homosexuality and the love, peace, and fulfilling joy that comes in accepting it and embracing love.

When Heavy Wings Grow Lighter

Thursday is the 10 year anniversary of the tragic death of Stuart Matis, who shot himself on the steps of his stake center in Palo Alto, CA. Though I never knew Stuart, his death has had an emotional impact on my life. Many people, including myself, want to honor his memory and search for meaning in this tragedy this Thursday. His parents have asked that we not memorialize his death with a rally or any public event or statement meant to promote a political or social agenda. (read the statement at Northern Lights)

Their request, to be honest, bothers me. The statement acknowledges that they are motivated, among other things, by a desire to prevent the LDS Church from being viewed in a negative light. I love Fred and Marilyn Matis. They are sweet people who have been kind to me personally and who have probably done more to encourage compassion for gay people from within the LDS Church than any other, with the possible exception of Carol Lynn Pearson. Their statement is consistent with the position they have taken since the tragedy happened, and I believe their position has actually made them more effective advocates for gay people to a Church that is extremely sensitive to bad press and public rallies.

But I believe that their desires are not the same as Stuart's desires, based on letters that he wrote before he took his life and based on the drama of the tragedy. In a letter to his family, Stuart wrote, "Perhaps my death … might become the catalyst for much good. I’m sure that you will now be strengthened in your resolve to teach the members and the leaders [of the Church] regarding the true nature of homosexuality." (Los Altos Town Crier) If Stuart had wanted his death private, he would have taken his life in his bedroom. Shooting himself on the steps of his LDS Stake Center was a cry for change, and I believe his blood stains the steps of the LDS Church which has not adequately responded to his cry.

Suicide is a complicated issue. There is never one single contributing factor or set of events that makes death seem more bearable than life.  I don't want to pretend that I have any authority to speak for Stuart or the motives behind his tragic decision. I do know, though, that the events leading to that decision included the horrific proposition 22 campaign, a campaign that was almost play by play repeated in 2008. Why didn't the Church make efforts to reach out to gay members and to prevent suicide during the prop 8 campaign, knowing what had happened in 2000?

In a letter Stuart wrote to a cousin weeks before his death, he stated, "The church has no idea that as I type this letter, there are surely boys and girls on their calloused knees imploring God to free them from this pain. They hate themselves. They retire to bed with their finger pointed to their head in the form of a gun. The church's involvement in the Knight initiative [prop 22] will only add to the great pain suffered by these young gay Mormons."

This statement resonates me to the point of tears almost every time I read it, because it is true. I was once that boy, still with scars on my knees from that pain--pain that was repeated to an even larger degree with proposition 8. Though the Church has made great changes in the past several years and has become more compassionate in responding to its gay members, it still sanctions spiritually abusive preaching and practices. I'm not talking about the politics of proposition 8 or any bill or law. I'm talking about the things that come from Mormon pulpits and publications that reinforce the cruel notion in a child's heart that he is wrong, damaged, messed up, even evil, because of attractions he didn't choose and doesn't understand.

Stuart took his life when I was in eighth grade and was just discovering my own confusing attractions towards the same gender. I didn't hear about his death at the time, and the lessons learned from his suicide weren't able to stop me from years of horrible self abuse because I was gay, including a time in my life when I contemplated suicide. I did unspeakable things because I didn't understand homosexuality and because I had been taught lies about it. Those lies haven't stopped. As a whole, Latter-day Saints still don't know about Stuart Matis, and they need to.

I can't honor the memory of Stuart Matis by keeping his story--or my story--quiet. With all due respect towards those closest to Stuart Matis, I want to voice support for those who are remembering this tragedy on Thursday. I am not in California, but if I was I would be attending the rally in Palo Alto. I encourage any of you who can attend to attend. Instead, I will be honoring Stuart in my own way by lighting a candle for him early that morning and by writing both his story and my story, and sharing it with whomever I can that day.

I Think I Would Understand

Last night I received an email from someone I don't know attacking me for the Salt Lake Tribune article published a few weeks ago. My initial response was defensive. I was going to write her back telling her that people like her are the reason people like me kill themselves. I was going to tell her that she was uneducated, uninformed, and extreme in her views. I was going to blast her for her hateful rhetoric and for her hypocrisy in attacking me. I was going to address each point she made and refute each one. Fortunately I waited till I calmed down the next morning to respond. Here's what she wrote:

Dan and Michael,

While doing research on Same Sex Marriage and Same Gender attraction, I found an article about your art project in the Tribune. I feel great disappointment that you would take part in any activity that would bring shame on BYU, an institution which you joined knowing its moral stance on same-sex attraction, and which you exploited to promote ideals contrary to truth, while using tithing funds to subsidize your education.

I just wanted to voice my strongly felt opinion that if you "don't feel comfortable at BYU", you don't need to be here. No one forced you to come to this church university, using church sanctioned funds, to use BYU as a venue to spread propoganda about gay rights.

It makes me so angry when people complain about BYU when hundreds and thousands of people are turned away every year, while ungrateful students like yourself stay here, absorb funding, and use your time and resources to fight against principles and doctrines which you knew and agreed to as part of your religion when you entered this institution.

How dare you try to fight this battle on this sacred ground. You can struggle with your gay tendancies all your life, but you will never find moral validation for that which is wrong. Shame on you for putting BYU in a negative light for not celebrating and highlighting your sexual struggles. Homosexuality is a fight of God against Satan.

As I engage my life and resources to fight with other faithful Mormons against such propoganda, I hope you find another venue to validate your misled ideas.

In the end, I realized that a defensive response would get me nowhere. It would only confirm my evilness to her. It would have perpetuated her belief that gays are contentious, argumentative, and Godless. She wouldn't have recognized the logic had I refuted each of her mistaken claims. The only thing I could do was to frankly forgive her (not in a patronizing way), and then in what I hope was a friendly manner share with her a little bit about homosexuality as I have experienced it. Here's what I wrote:

Dear ******,

Thank you for writing me and sharing your personal and strong feelings with me. Obviously I also have personal and strong feelings rooted in my experiences growing up both gay and Mormon. I value the opportunities I have to talk about this emotional topic.

I'm so happy that you are doing research on a topic that is so misunderstood in the LDS culture. If everyone researched the things that affect their brothers and sisters in such personal ways, I wonder how much better off we would be as people. I wonder how we would treat each other. Knowledge is power! I hope you won't be offended if I give you some pointers on how to best understand homosexuality as I hope you continue to seek to understand it.

If someone was to research Mormonism, you wouldn't direct them to anti-Mormon literature. Likewise, you wouldn't have them base their research solely on the observations of friendly Non-Mormons. You would probably invite them to talk to actual Mormons and read material produced by the Church. My advice is the same. I invite you to learn about same sex attraction from those who experience same sex attractions. I would be more than happy to talk with you about it, if you'd like.

I would also recommend talking to Fred and Marilyn Matis. They are a sweet, friendly couple and are very active in the Church. Their son, Stuart, was gay and shot himself on the steps of his stake center. After their son's suicide, Fred and Marilyn have opened their home to other gay Mormons to extend the love and support they wish their son had felt. They have associated themselves with literally hundreds of homosexuals through monthly family home evenings held for gay Latter-day Saints and the friends and family of gay Latter-day Saints. You are more than welcome to attend and see gay Mormons pray, sing, and talk. The information is here: http://northstarlds.org/matisfiresides.php They are always warm, spiritual experiences. There is so much love there. If you go on April 6, you will get to hear Sister Olson speak. She is amazing. She was my New Testament teacher here at BYU.

One last word of advice. Please don't believe everything you read on the internet or even in books and newspapers. The tribune article that upset you did not reveal very much to you about who I am, what I do, or even what I believe. It is more of a reflection of the author than of me. He interviewed me, but the interview was long and he chose what to include in this article and what to leave out. Let me assure you that I in no way was attacking the Church or any of its members, nor did I intend to paint BYU in an exclusively negative light. Despite how I was quoted in the Tribune, I enjoy my time here. My friends are here, and I am supported by great faculty in the art department who love me and are helping me succeed in life. In the interview, I simply wanted to share my experiences and thereby reveal changes that could be made in policy that would save a lot of people from a lot of pain. I don't believe that BYU maliciously hurt me, but the attitudes of so many BYU students have hurt me. Only by sharing true information (in this case my experiences) can we all grow closer to the Savior and treat each other with more charity.

I also want to make it clear that included in the tithes that supplement a BYU education are my tithes, the tithes of my parents and grandparents, the tithes of hundred of my friends who want me to be here, and even the tithes of the people I baptized on my mission. If you are upset about how your own personal tithes are being used, I know how you feel. I felt hurt that my tithes were used on proposition 8 propaganda. Though I know how you feel, let's be honest, we both have given our money to the Church for them to spend as they see fit, and they saw fit to accept me at BYU. Please make the same assumptions about me that you would make about any student at BYU, and that is that I have the same yearly interviews for endorsement that they have. This means that BYU still wants me to be one of its students even given what was published in the Salt Lake Tribune. (Obviously me being gay isn't a secret). This also means that I make tremendous sacrifices to be here.

You seem sincerely interested in discussing truth (as opposed to propaganda), so let's talk truth. Let's talk about what I have experienced and therefore what I know to be true.

I came to BYU because I believed BYU could make me straight. I have never been attracted to women in my life. I have always been attracted to guys. I always knew I was different from my peers, and I knew how I was different as early as 11. I didn't want to be gay, though. I hated it! I was ashamed of it, as if I was a monster. I would literally beat myself up mentally over it. I read on the internet that BYU had therapy that would make it go away, and I wanted that. Church leaders, including Bishops and a Stake President also promised that my attractions for men could be replaced with attractions for women. This promise that the Church made me was recounted on my mission by Elder Oaks in a 2006 general conference. He admitted that same sex attractions would likely never go away in this life. This was after I had already been at BYU for a year.

That year had been destructive for me. After a year of therapy I was very depressed. One night I almost jumped off a bridge. I am so grateful that I didn't kill myself. I believe the hand of God stopped me.

On my mission, I learned that I was a good person and I learned how to love myself. This made coming home from my mission after 2 years very hard. It was a rough transition, but through a lot of serious prayer and meditation, the Lord revealed his consistent love for me and I realized that I shouldn't demand that He change my sexual orientation. I realized that it was ok that I was attracted to the same gender- it didn't make me a monster. It simply was. A month later a gay BYU student and acquaintance of mine curled up next to his tail pipe with the garage door closed and took his own life. This was when I knew something had to change. Something has to change so that gay youth don't kill themselves. I don't know what that change is, but I do know what I can do to promote that change. I can share my story. I can tell people that God loves them and that I love them. I can share true information, because only true information can help informed people know what they should do.

If I am fighting for anything, (I don't personally consider that article a fight), I am fighting for those people who are abused and feel worthless. I am fighting for them and for me for equal treatment. I believe that the we all should be treated equally. I'm not opposed to the principle of Chasity, I just want it applied equally. I'm not opposed to BYU, I just want it to promote love and information for all of it's students rather than fear, backbiting, contention, and ignorance. It is my hope that we can all peacefully engage in meaningful dialog instead of persecuting each other. In that sense, I really don't think you and I are that different from each other.

Thanks again for writing me, and I hope that you have a great day!
Sincerely,
Daniel

Icing Over a Secret Pain

Saturday night I watched the lifetime premiere of "Prayer's For Bobby." It was far more of an emotional experience than I expected for so many reasons. Like Bobby, I was really close to my parents. I had a good relationship with my dad, and he was far from absent, but I related more to my mom. (It's funny because I probably act more like my dad). I saw patterns in the way Bobby talked with his mom and the way I talked with my mom. And like Bobby, I was outwardly a scriptorian and spiritual guru who inwardly hid shame and guilt, in part relating to homosexuality. When my parents discovered that I was gay, they told me that I wasn't really gay and that I could overcome temptations with faith. This was because we wanted to be together in Heaven. I sought out therapy on my own, but, like Bobby, found that same gender attractions don't go away.

Certainly all of these similarities could also be shared with half of my readership here, because I think a lot of this stems from growing up gay in a religious home. I think it was actually one other similarity, though, that affected me the most. Bobby jumped off a highway overpass to kill himself, which would have been how I would have taken my life.

Near my house there was a quiet backstreet that ran over the freeway. It was called Duffy Lane. When life would seem unbearable, I would think about that overpass and what would happen if I jumped off of it. I would imagine my funeral. I would imagine people reading the letter I would leave, outing myself to the world as the horrible monster I really was- the monster they never knew. It was a morbid thought, but fortunately in high school my pain was never more powerful than my fear of death, and I never really considered suicide.

Right before my mission was a different story. I was haunted by something horrible that I had done years prior but that hadn't been resolved. Leaving on my mission without resolving it felt like damnation. Furthermore, despite a year of "gender affirmative" therapy, I was still gay. Between the two, I was overwhelmed with shame. The shame was only compounded by going to the temple, which made me feel extremely hypocritical. One night after an argument with my mom, I left my house so abruptly I started riding my bike barefoot towards Duffy Lane. The spikes on the pedal were tearing into my skin. I wanted to kill myself. I wanted to teach my mom a lesson. I wanted to show her what she was doing to me.

At some point I stopped, though, and called my ex-girlfriend. She talked me down. I hadn't come out to her yet, but deep down she knew I was gay. That's not what we talked about though. She just told me it'd be ok. In 2 weeks I would be away from my family and on my own and things would be ok.

Four months later I was a missionary. My Mission President called to say that he had learned about things I'd done that hadn't been resolved. Again the shame came back. He told me he'd meet with me the next day. All night long I was tortured with shame and with dread. I went outside, tempted to take the car and drive to a nearby bridge. I figured I could just drive the car off the bridge and it would seem like an accident. Fortunately I didn't. I think mostly because I was afraid of leaving my companion (that would have been a horrible sin!). In the morning, I met with the President, and life went on. I finished my mission, and I learned how to deal with shame and to love myself.

As I look back, I wonder if jumping off Duffy Lane would have changed my mom. Obviously it would have changed her, but I'll never know if it would have turned her into a Mary Griffith. Maybe it would have, maybe not. Either way, I am grateful that I didn't do it. I think in the long run, I can do more good for this world by overcoming my problems and by being happy and in turn showing others how to be happy. I can do more to change my mom by letting her see how happy I am now, rather than ending my life in depression.

If you have a Duffy Lane, please don't jump. Instead, lets try to improve the world with our lives, and let's improve ourselves.