Creating Healthy LGBT (Mormon) Youth: The Family Acceptance Project

A few weeks ago, I met Caitlin Ryan, Director of The Family Acceptance Project. Because of my own work within the Mormon community to build the bridge between the LGBT and the LDS communities, I was keenly interested knowing more about her research and work.

I was—in a word—amazed.

Caitlin and her colleagues have proven what many of us as gay Mormons already know: the kind of support (or lack thereof) we experience from our families and church communities has long-term and resounding consequences for our physical and emotional health.

An action plan for parents and church leaders

In this first-of-a-kind study, The Family Acceptance Project not only empirically links unsupportive environments with LGBT suicide, depression, drug/alcohol abuse, and risk for HIV infection—but they also explain to parents and communities actions they can take to reduce these risks—even if they disagree with being gay or transgender. 

Download "Supportive Families, Healthy Children" today.   

“Many parents believe that the best way to help their gay children thrive…is to help them fit in with their heterosexual (Mormon) peers. Because parents see these behaviors as loving or caring for their gay children, they’re often shocked to learn that gay children experience these behaviors as rejection. Young people feel that by rejecting (or trying to alter) their gay identity—a very core part of who they are—their parents are rejecting all of who they are.”

This is not simply another academic research study: it’s a pragmatic, useful tool kit for parents and communities of our LGBT youth, independent of faith. It crosses socio-economic and religious boundaries, and is a real-world means to help create an environment that nurtures positive, healthy LGBT youth to adulthood. 

How I’ll work with Caitlin and The Family Acceptance Project

In the following months, it is my goal to leverage Caitlin’s research as part of the continuing work with the LDS Church.  Hearts inside the church have begun to soften on this topic, and many inside the Mormon community stand ready and eager to learn more. Our next logical step after helping achieve awareness within the flanks of the church, is inspiring them to action. Caitlin’s work provides an approach to do so in a way that honors one of the core tenets of the Mormon faith: commitment to our families first.

One Mormon mother said it best: “The Church teaches us that no success can compensate for failure in the home, and when we realized that included our relationship with our gay son, we knew that, with God’s help, we could do whatever was necessary to make our home a safe and loving one.”

What you can do now

Download a copy of "Supportive Families, Healthy Children" today.

·        If you’re a gay Mormon, share this with your parents and your family, regardless of your age. Changed attitudes and healthier relationships can begin now.

·        If you’re a straight ally, internalize this material and bring what you know to bear in your conversations with those you meet—both in and outside the church. You can help increase awareness and affect change.

·        If you’re an LDS church leader, use this information to guide conversations with LGBT youth and their parents in a helpful, loving, Christ-like manner that fosters a nurturing environment for everyone.

·        If you’re a parent, use this information to help shape your child’s future and provide a loving, healthy home for your son or daughter.

·        Regardless of your individual role, watch the documentary “AlwaysMy Son.” This short film tells a powerful tale of how one family overcame old attitudes and misperceptions to build an inspiring relationship with their gay son.

For more information about The Family Acceptance Project

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The nature of forgiveness

When I was young, I begged my Mom for a pet hamster. Reluctantly, she gave in, and soon on my dresser at home was a modest metal cage lined with sawdust chips, and inside was my furry little companion.

The first night I brought him home I had been cautioned not to take him out of his cage—the excitement of the relocation, I’d been told, could cause him to be a bit more aggressive than normal and I may end up getting bitten. Being a typical boy, I didn’t do particularly well when it came to heeding advice. I sat and stared inside the cage for several hours, mesmerized by this little whiskered thing that scurried from side to side, excitedly investigating his new home and finding something curious in every corner, regardless of how many times he had visited it already.

Eventually, my curiosity got the best of me. I reached in and picked up my new hamster—longing to feel the softness of his fur and hold his little face next to mine.

And then, of course, it happened.

Right when I picked him up, he bit my finger. Alarmed and hurt, I let go of him and withdrew my hand in a flash. The bite was sharp and painful and drew blood almost immediately. I ran to the bathroom and wrapped my finger in a tissue (not daring tell my Mom I’d disobeyed), and returned to sit in front of the cage.

I sat and watched him continue to bustle from side to side—but now, instead of feeling child-like curiosity, I was full of anger, pain, and resentment. Being a tender-hearted boy and an ardent lover of animals even then, though, it was clear I wouldn’t stay angry for long. I remembered the warning—that he would be overly excited with the move—and my heart softened. And then, as if he’d read my mind, he stood on his rear haunches, his front paws bent in front of him like little hands, and looked at me while his whiskers twitched from side to side. My heart melted completely, and in that moment I forgave him. But despite forgiving him in my heart, the bite on my finger remained--stinging, bloody, and painful.

I was reminded of this story when I was preparing a recent lesson for my Sunday School class on the nature of forgiveness. Is it possible, I wondered, to genuinely forgive someone for the hurt they have caused you, yet still feel the pain of their offense?

There are times, as we navigate our course in life, where our paths will cross with those who will hurt us—sometimes they do so inadvertently, with good intent, doing the wrong thing for the right reasons. Other times, though, some will seek to do us deliberate harm, inflicting pain upon us through calculated choices of words, deeds, or direct actions.

When we’re hurt as an adult, our wounds appear so much more complicated than a simple bite on the finger—like the one I suffered from my hamster. This is particularly true when it seems the choice to hurt us is deliberate.

Throughout my path in life—and especially growing up as a gay Mormon—I have encountered both types of people; those who have harmed me unintentionally, and those who have done so deliberately. But the lesson I have come to realize is regardless of the intent of the person who has wounded us, the choice is still ours as to whether or not (and how genuinely) we forgive.

Indeed, we may still feel the pain from their actions, even when we’ve chosen to forgive in our hearts—some wounds simply cut more deeply than others. The bite I suffered from my hamster ultimately took weeks to heal—but heal it did, and the healing process was one that I could not force.

So it is when we suffer deep spiritual wounds. We can forgive in sincerity of heart, but we must also recognize that we can’t force the healing process. That process ultimately belongs to our Savior—once we have done our part by forgiving those who harm us, and placing our pain into His hands.

There are those among us who have adopted the view that forgiveness is a power we have over others—enabling us to demonstrate our own superiority by rising above the offense and magnanimously bestowing our grace and forgiveness to the offender.

But herein lies the danger with this philosophy: It overlooks the simple truth that we are all on equal footing with every other member of our human family. True, some make choices that others would not, but we all do good and righteous acts at times—and at other times, we may offend and hurt. Worse, when we adopt the attitude that forgiveness is power, we tell ourselves and the world around us that we are victims—and thus, we remain victims.

I believe our souls are like the wet sand along the ocean shoreline—soft, pliable, impressionable. When someone walks along the shore, they leave an impression near the water even after their foot has been lifted again to take the next step. Likewise, when we cross paths with those who harm us, their actions leave impressions upon our soul, often long after we’ve granted forgiveness to them in our hearts. But like those same footprints along the shore, over time, the impressions are washed away by the waves of our Savior’s compassion, and once again the surface is smooth and free from scars.

 I may never know the circumstances that motivate or cause someone to hurt me—and I don’t really need to. But when I hold on to pain, blame, and resentment, I occupy my soul with bitterness and move myself away from becoming who I truly want to be. Focusing on my part—forgiving in my heart—and then placing the pain into the hands of my Savior, allows me to nurture myself and those around me in a compassionate, kind, and loving way.

And, ultimately, it is the only thing that allows me to heal.

Healing the wounds from Prop 8: My remarks from Sunstone West Symposium

A few weeks back, I spoke as part of the closing plenary session at the Sunstone West Symposium in Northern California.

It was a moving experience—both to be able to speak openly and honestly about my challenges and triumphs as a gay Mormon, and to hear the heartbreak and victory of others.

Our focus was not only to share our stories, but also to talk about what we’ve done—in the Mormon community and beyond—to heal from the wounds caused by Proposition 8 and this divisive chapter that pitted politics and religion against one another.

I focused specifically on many of the Mormon affiliated LGBT events we’ve accomplished in the Bay Area, but also spoke about the need for our straight allies to continue to be active voices and vigilant advocates. For, if change is to occur, we must have people pushing from the inside as well as those pulling from the outside.

Each day, I'm presented with new opportunities to make the path easier for others--some small and seemingly insignificant, and still others result in great strides forward. Every door that opens reaffirms my conviction that there is a power behind this undertaking much larger than my own feeble capabilities.

It's such an amazing, deeply satisfying level of change that's coming to pass. To witness it alone would be remarkable. To feel I have a part in it, however small or large, genuinely humbles my soul. I am a blessed man, indeed.

Click here to listen to my remarks. 

The importance of straight allies

As I’ve become more vocal about being a gay Mormon—both in and outside the church—I’ve had the opportunity to meet some very remarkable people, some of whom quite clearly fall into the category of “straight allies.” Some have purposefully become an ally; others have simply stumbled there through circumstance. Just the same, the common bond that unites them is a deep and passionate desire to follow their hearts and do what is right. 

They are my heroes: dedicated not so much to a cause, but to their own conscience. And through this dedication, lift the often heavy mantle carried by the LGBT community, regardless of faith.

I dedicate this article to them.

Rey is not your usual suspect when it comes to straight allies. Married to his wife Christine for almost 21 years, the father of three boys, an athlete, and a veteran—on paper, he’s almost the kind of person we’d expect to hold a decisively more conservative view. Yet, I’ve been repeatedly humbled as I’ve watched him champion equality through his support of gay marriage the repeal of DADT. He speaks out openly and with courage—even in the face of opposition.

Likewise, Jackie is an equally atypical ally. Jackie is the mother of 4 boys, a wife of almost 10 years, and an active Mormon who serves as a scout leader in the suburbs of Dallas. Recently, Jackie and her husband were drawn into a potentially violent situation when they stood up for the rights and dignity of a gay man. Many would have turned and looked the other way. But Jackie and her husband, driven by the strength that comes from doing what is right, stood their ground.

What makes Rey and Jackie—and other straight allies—unique, is they have cultivated the view (knowingly or unknowingly) that we are all children of our Father, and as such, are equals in His eyes. They don’t ascribe to the concept that gays and lesbians are the other—or any notion that there is anything that separates us as a human family. They do, in fact, view everyone as equals—and more importantly, feel that in their hearts and express it in their actions. They recognize that despite our external differences, our sameness as brothers and sisters unites all of us—and the strength of that commonality weighs more than any individual difference.

I am proud to know them both, and the other many straight allies whom I’ve come to appreciate and respect. And, I think their examples are powerful ones and help underscore the critical role straight allies have in the quest to soften the hearts of others—Mormon and otherwise.

Within the Mormon Church, straight allies are in a unique position to approach church leadership in a way that I, as an openly gay Mormon, am not. They have the added credibility of not being seen as someone with an agenda other than to do what is right. As a straight ally, you have the ability to speak on our behalf and deliver a message as someone who is not viewed as the other—and that will lend you a power and strength beyond what I, or any gay member, could have.

And deliver that message, you must. For if change is to occur, it has to have people pushing from the inside, as well as those pulling from the outside.

As with any challenge, there is also a hidden opportunity for our straight allies—regardless of faith. As a straight ally, you have the chance to be truly Christ-like. In fact, if we think about our Savior’s mortal ministry, it was a ministry largely centered on people society had cast out—that society viewed as the other.

When Christ was on an urgent rescue mission for the daughter of one of the Jewish leaders of the synagogues, there was a woman among the throngs of people that followed him, who reached out to touch his robe in an act of faith—that by doing this, she would be healed. For twelve years she had suffered a vaginal flow of blood, an almost constant hemorrhage. But worse than the physical illness was the suffering she had to endure at the hands of her brothers and sisters in the community—because of the plague of mental and emotional shame inflicted upon her.

She wanted to be near the Savior, to look into His face, to feel of His love. But this she could not do, because according to Jewish law, she was unclean. She, like many gay Mormons, was judged unfit to mingle with the community, unfit to worship in the temple. She was scorned as an outcast—worthless and unclean.

She, too, was the other.

Yet, like so many times in his mortal ministry, Christ stopped and healed the woman of this terrible burden. But the most important aspect of His kindness was the healing of her lonely and aching spirit. What a humble honor it would be for the rest of her life to know that Christ knew her, that Christ noticed her, and that Christ accepted her. What a profound demonstration of our Savior’s love, mercy and kindness.  What a tremendous example of reaching out to the other—regardless of consequence.

Being born gay is not a plague; but what many of us suffer at the hands of others is. What an amazing invitation this story is to our straight allies to help their gay brothers and sisters achieve equality in the eyes of all.

What an exciting call to arms for our straight allies within the Mormon Church—for as Mormons, there can be no more worthwhile pursuit than becoming like our Savior. And what an equally moving cry for those of other faiths, or none at all—for there is little more virtuous a pursuit than striving for what is right. 

When we listen to the sense of responsibility that is whispered to us by our own conscience, and speak out for what is right, we move beyond our individual problems and give unconditionally. Independent of our faith, through our words and actions we have the opportunity to lighten the burdens of others, to speak hope to the spirits of those who are heavy laden, and change hearts—and lives.

There is wisdom in knowing what is right; there is virtue in doing it.

Today, I will seek to be an instrument of virtue and peace. I will act on my conscience and speak for what I know to be right. For I know that there is no better gift I can give the world—or myself.

Will you speak for what is right today?

Sunstone West Symposium 2011

On March 19^th, I’ll speak as part of the closing plenary panel at Sunstone West Symposium in Cupertino, California, sponsored by the Sunstone Education Foundation. The panel itself will focus on the aftermath of Proposition 8—and more specifically, on what efforts have been undertaken by individuals of both the Mormon faith and others, to help mend the damage and real human cost of this divisive phase in our history.

Please join me. You can find out more about the Symposium and register here.

My remarks will not seek to disparage the Mormon Church, nor will they seek to disparage the gay community—both have been done, and both accomplish nothing other than making deeper the divide between these two worlds. I will, however, speak openly about my feelings about the Mormon Church’s involvement in Proposition 8—both as a gay Mormon specifically, and as a Mormon in general.

That said, the crux of my focus will be on local Mormon leadership which has sponsored and been involved in multiple LGBT events since 2009. And, the more important issue of the spirit in which my local leadership approaches the issue of homosexuality.

Never, at any time, have I been pitied. Never have I been viewed as suffering, damaged, or afflicted. Instead, I have been blessed to be surrounded by a Mormon community that understands me as their equal—a man with a path somewhat different than their own, but a path designed for me by our Father, just as theirs is. And as such, a path that is respected and honored.

There is much, I believe, to be learned from both my church leadership and my individual experience. And while the jumping off point might be political, the emphasis will be on the spiritual. My focus will be on the compassion, love, understanding and equality granted to me by my Mormon leadership and fellows.

It is my hope that by giving voice to my experience, recognizing my leadership and Mormon fellows, and talking specifically about some of the LGBT events we’ve accomplished, that other communities will follow suit—irrespective of faith.

There has been a remarkable amount of change accomplished in a very short time. And yet, there is much left to accomplish. To play a part in this transformation—however large or small that part may be—is a humbling, soul-stretching honor.

I am both grateful, and blessed.

About the Sunstone Education Foundation

The Sunstone Education Foundation seeks to frankly explore and examine topics of faith as they relate to the complexities of today’s world. While a completely independent organization from the Mormon Church, there is an emphasis on intellectual rigor on LDS theology and doctrine. In their own words: Through its many forums, Sunstone serve…Latter-day Saints and many others for whom life and faith is a wonderful but unique adventure. Sunstone brings together traditional and non-traditional Latter-day Saints, promoting an atmosphere that values faith, intellectual and experiential integrity.

Jordan's Letter

A common thread that seems to run through the psyche of many gay Mormons is a sense of “aloneness:” the fear (or reality) of being ostracized by our brothers and sisters in the gospel for being gay. And, the anxiety of being criticized and condemned by the larger gay community for our devotion to a church that, admittedly, has caused much strife in the lives and families of gay individuals—irrespective of faith. 

Intellectually, I know that I am not alone in my quest to integrate my sexual orientation with my faith. Yet at an emotional level I, too, am haunted at times by this same sense of aloneness, which, over time, leads me to feel defeated in my purpose to create change for what I feel is right.

Typically for me, this happens most frequently when I learn of senior or local church leadership making comments that make my journey more difficult; when I am criticized for speaking out or told that what I’m trying to accomplish is futile; or when another gay Mormon—especially our youth—takes their own life over this very issue. 

I am not without my critics, nor did I expect to be when I began to speak openly about the challenges of being a gay Mormon. Still, it stings when I’m told my passion for this work is pointless, that I am nothing more than a modern-day Sisyphus for struggling to create change within the Mormon Church. It stings when the words of my Savior, whom I dearly love, are used against me to try to demonstrate that I—and my work—are reviled in His eyes. It stings to watch other human souls suffer—or die—because of their sense of isolation and hopelessness. 

Yet, time and time again, when the feeling of being defeated encroaches on my spiritual peace, I am blessed to touch the life of another, and through this service, renew my commitment to the change I seek. The letter below, from a 14-year old boy whom I will likely never meet, is one such blessing. He expresses gratitude for the courage he sees in me for telling my story; and I wish to express mine for his. Learning that my struggles can ease the adversity of another reignites my passion for this work, and reminds me that my sense of aloneness—my sense of being defeated—is an illusion. 

Maybe I won't succeed in softening the hearts of those who fear or misunderstand our LGBT brothers and sisters overnight. But I will succeed in letting people know that they are not alone--and that, in and of itself, is success.

The game belongs to those who remain on the field—and my feet are firmly planted on the field. 

And there they shall remain. 




 Jordan’s Letter

Hello, Mitch.
I am a 14 year old boy who is an active member of the church and has been all of my life. I am very vigilant in keeping up on my scripture study, make sure I’m living righteously and worthily for future temple ordinances, and try to set good examples for my younger siblings. 

You’d say that I am living a very good religious lifestyle but I fear that I may have the same problem as you but less severe. I have had homosexual attractions for as long as I can remember and I have been very confused with what I should do. 

I have just recently decided to act upon this challenge through fasting by asking what I should do. I have not told anybody about this before and this is the first time I have disclosed this information to anybody. Reading your story has enlightened me with the fact that me having these attractions is not the end of the world. You are a hero in my eyes. Thank you so much for telling your story.

–Jordan

My brother’s keeper

One of the best parts of doing the kind of writing I do is the opportunity to meet and speak with gay Mormons around the world. Some are firm in both their faith and their sexual orientation; but most struggle with understanding how and where they belong as part of the Mormon Church. When I’m extremely blessed, I get to witness someone take a great leap toward understanding themselves and their place within their faith.

 

Such is the case with my friend Kevin. 

Kevin is a soft-spoken, intelligent 23 year-old gay Mormon. Like many, he grapples with integrating his faith with his sexual orientation. Recently, he hit a period of great depression and doubt—a time when he felt genuinely unwanted, unnoticed, and even resentful toward the faith that he and his family had practiced his entire life.  And like many, he struggled largely in silence—not feeling safe enough to share openly with his bishopric, or worse, fearing retribution for his honesty. Nonetheless, despite his challenges, he continued to pray and do what he could to stay close to his Savior.

Then it happened.

One Sunday, after missing about two months of church consecutively, there appeared an anonymous, hand-delivered note in his mailbox.  “We missed you again today. We hope you come back soon.” It was a plain, blank note card with nothing remarkable about it—except a powerful message from an unnamed individual who noticed Kevin’s absence, missed him, and most importantly—took the time to let him know.

This remarkable story made me think about all the instances where I’ve noticed someone could use encouragement, and across my mind flashed the idea to do something about it—and I let it pass.

How often have each of us had the prompting to lift up another, but passively dismissed or ignored it because we were pressed with other obligations? How many times have we missed the chance to show a small kindness to another—and thus missed the chance to have a tremendous impact on another’s life—or faith? 

As Mormons, one of the covenants we make with our baptism into this church (and renew each Sunday when we take the sacrament), is to take the name of our Savior upon us. And as part of that covenant, we vow to shoulder the burdens of others, using our Savior as our example. 

We pledge to be our brother’s keeper.

I would argue that this same principle applies to each of us within the human family as a whole—irrespective of faith. By reaching out to help others in small, even insignificant ways, we move beyond our own problems and learn to give unconditionally. Looked at this way, every moment we spend as part of the human family can be an opportunity to serve, and an opportunity to positively impact our own lives—and perhaps, like Kevin’s anonymous friend, an opportunity to change another’s.

When Kevin returned to church the following Sunday, another note arrived. “Hello, Kevin. We were excited to see you at church today. We’re glad you came!” Subsequent weeks brought more notes, each one an affirmation to Kevin that he was noticed, he was loved, and most importantly that he had something that mattered to his church: his spirit. Because of this simple act—because someone was willing to be an instrument in the hands of our Savior—Kevin was brought through a difficult and dark time.

Toward the end of sharing his story with me, Kevin remarked: “Being a gay Mormon has been rough, even in a ward of 400 people. It’s easy to feel like you don’t matter, like you’re invisible, and like you don’t fit in. I was praying for help and guidance through this whole period, and I sincerely feel like these notes were a big part of my answer. This is my Savior’s handiwork. He answered my prayers through other people—and He does want me here!”

I wish to add my voice of gratitude to Kevin’s. To his anonymous friend, I’d like to say, “thank you.” You may never realize the impact you had on Kevin, on me, or on anyone who reads this. Your singular, simple act has been magnified to touch hundreds of lives. What a blessing you’ve been to people you may never even meet—all because you heeded a prompting to do a small act of kindness…because you were willing to be your brother’s keeper.

Today, I will pay special heed to any voice inside me that prompts me to perform a kind act, regardless of how insignificant it may seem. And in doing so, I will bless my own life through service to another, I will do my part to make the world a more peaceful and loving place, and I will let a fellow traveler on this earthly path know they are loved, they are valued, and that they matter.

Will you be your brother’s keeper today?