HURRICANE

It's over

2007-08-21T13:14:00.000-04:00

The hurricane, I mean. My hurricane, that is. There'll be other storms. Just ask the people on the Yucatan Peninsula this week. But my hurricane is over.

Thanks for reading.

New Blog

2007-06-05T12:23:00.000-04:00

Jed and I have started a new blog: Family Blend. Join us!

Something I've learned recently

2007-05-07T13:37:00.000-04:00

Coming out doesn't solve all your problems.

You're thinking, "duh, Chris!" But it's taken me 18 months and some recent rocky times in my relationship to figure that out.

It's hard to shake a lifetime of fighting your nature and building closets for yourself. I'm not like some of the (once) married gay men I've known in that I wasn't out to my wife during our marriage. I learned how to hide from her--and myself--pretty effectively. Once out, I thought the compulsion to hide would naturally dissipate. And it did for awhile.

But it turns out I have some issues--and closets--that might not have anything to do with being gay. Imagine that! Some of the things that I thought would resolve themselves because I am now openly gay actually got worse before I was able to recognize them as issues that need to be addressed. The good news is that I am now working on my issues and I'm learning a lot about myself and addressing things that I have been actively avoiding. And I'm blessed to have a man in my life who is standing with me through this because he loves all of me--the good, the bad and the ugly.

Last summer, our marriage at an end, I told KK that I didn't need anyone. I was trying to tell her that I was emotionally independent and capable of taking care of myself and moving on. She told me that she thought what I said was sad. It's only very recently that I have been able to see that she was right. We all need to be loved, and we all need to give love. It's part of what makes us human. I have always battled the thought that I have to be "good" in order to be loved. I'm not sure where that comes from. It might be the dynamics in my family; it might be the way I internalized Mormon and Christian teaching and theology; it might be my psychology; it might be all of the above and more. KK has shown me that unconditional love over the years we have known each other, and has continued to show it even after marriage. Jed now shows it to me every day. I'm finally ready to not only admit that I need it, but to accept it and offer it to myself as well. I hope this will make me a better person, partner, friend, father, brother, son, confidant, and former spouse. I aspire to be loving and honest in all of these roles in my life.

I'm taking a break from blogging and interneting for awhile. HURRICANE has been dying a slow death anyway, so this break might finally be the end of it. Or maybe not. But I'm going to go take care of myself for awhile, re-commit to my wonderful partner (even though we don't call each other that!), prepare for a wonderful summer with my children, and do what I can to nurture, repair and improve the relationships that have brought so many good things into my life.

Out of the mouths of babes...

2007-04-09T14:26:00.000-04:00

Driving through the Lincoln Tunnel to New Jersey from Manhattan on a bus, my four-year-old daughter, who had been gazing out the window, turned to me and, wide-eyed, exclaimed: "Daddy, I think this bus is going as fast as the government will allow!"

Benediction, Part II: Covering

2007-04-06T21:52:00.000-04:00

In his important new book Covering, Yale Law School professor Kenji Yoshino uses the prism of his experience as a gay Asian American and his training as a legal scholar to examine the subtle ways that women and ethnic, religuous and sexual minorities are often forced to compromise their civil rights, their identity and their dignity in order to blend into the mainstream.

At first glance, covering appears less insidious than other societal demands made of minorities. In the past many have been forced to try to convert. Others respond to such demands by quietly passing. Covering is more subtle, as it often involves simply trying to "tone down" undesirable or stigmatized identities.

In my own evolution as a gay man, I have been through each of the stages Yoshino describes in his book. I sought to convert myself away from homosexuality, going so far as to convert to a religion that held the promise that I didn't have to be gay if I didn't want to be. When I failed in my efforts to convert, I continued to pass. I was married, fathered two children, and actively engaged in activities and a lifestyle that was easily identifiable as heterosexual. When passing became too much of a burden, I was still content to cover. I came out to my wife and a small circle of family members, but I chose not to engage in any way in a lifestyle that was identifiable as gay.

My covering stage was the shortest in its duration. Once I was finally able to accept that I was gay and that it wasn't wrong for me to be gay, I quickly decided that I had no desire to cover my identity. In fact, for a period I was uncomfortable letting stand the assumption that I was straight. I came out in ways that were probably unnecessary. But I would rather have people know I was gay unnecessarily than let them assume that I was straight.

The demand that I cover, however, remains a constant, particularly in circles where acceptance of homosexuality is tenuous. A few months ago I was involved in a discussion on an LDS blog called By Common Consent. It was a discussion of Carol Lynn Pearson's No More Goodbyes, and when I wondered aloud (as it were) what I should do to build bridges of reconciliation with my former faith community, one of the discussion participants told me rather pointedly that I should "get over" myself and recognize that my sexuality was just a "small part" of who I am. Why, he wondered, couldn't I ever talk about anything else on LDS blogs besides homosexuality?

The unfairness of his charge was apparent to me (and others), as I know that my interests are wide ranging. But more than being personally unfair, he was doing what if often demanded of gay people--asking that I cover my sexuality. It's okay for me to be gay, but, please, stop talking about it! As I have become more comfortable being out, I have seen this dynamic play out over and over again. "Straight acting" homosexual men are somehow more acceptable than obviously or more flamboyantly gay men. We see the demand to cover in a very pointed way in the LDS Church and other conservative religious traditions. LDS authorities have taken a page from the Catholic playbook in declaring that to feel homosexual attraction is not sinful, but acting on it of course is. In other words, it's okay to be gay as long one doesn't ever actually do any of the things that define one as gay--namely, have an intimate relationship with someone of the same sex. The covering demand of homosexuals in Mormon culture is further played out when homosexual Mormons themselves respond to the covering demand by downplaying the significance of their orientation, dismissing it as an annoying fact that in no way defines them or how they will live their lives. Just because they are gay doesn't mean that can't live their lives just as any other Mormon might, hoping for marriage and family or quietly soldiering on in celibacy, depending on the circumstances.

This is not unique to the LDS experience, of course. Such demands that gays "keep it to themselves" are commonplace in other religious tradtions, in the workplace, and on the athletic field (see John Amaechi). Quiet, apparently asexual homosexuals are far less threatening to the status quo and the moral order than those who live openly. And there are reverse covering demands imposed by the gay community as well--we passionately ask all homosexuals to come out, to live life as openly and defiantly as they can, and to reject any suggestion that to do so is in anyway problematic. Alas, life is not so simple.

As much as I want to be finished covering, I still do it. I hate it, but it happens. Maybe I don't mention Jed in certain situations when I easily could, or I withdraw from conversations about family and marriage because I don't want to have to explain my own personal transformation and circumstances. These things don't happen often anymore, but they happen. Sometimes I'm responding to an external demand that I cover, but other times I'm still fighting my own internal battles. But I firmly believe that recognizing the demand to cover is an important final step in coming out.

Benediction, Part I: Integration and Reconciliation

2007-03-02T01:29:00.000-05:00

HURRICANE is winding down. This blog was an invaluable part of my coming out process. But its moment is passing as I find myself on ever more solid ground as a out gay man. It occupies a space in the blogosphere that corresponds with a space where I no longer live: gay, married and Mormon.

But before I go, I am going to write a series of posts on themes that are important to me at this stage of life: integrating and reconciling the past, covering, and belonging.

I have written on this blog about integration in the way that many gay people talk about it after coming out. Bringing my identity and my sexuality into alignment lifted a dark fog from my mind. Integration is an essential part of the coming out process. But that's not the integration I have in mind now. Over the past few weeks I have intensified a different type of integration process. This one involves reconciling my current self to my past self. Part of that has been forgiving, myself and others, and essential to forgiving is recognizing and celebrating the good things about my old life. With my immediate family, that is easy. My love for my children knows no bounds. My friendship with KK remains strong and an important part of my life, and I value the good things that came as a result of our marriage. Other relationships, such as those with parents and old friends, are also worth holding on to and strenthening, and I am striving to do that. I have struggled more with forgiving other presences from my past. In particular, I have felt anger and bitterness toward the LDS Church. But lately I've found myself forgiving there as well, and remembering the good things that came from my Mormon experience.

HURRICANE is not my first blog. I had another one that I called Outer Boroughs in a nod to my place of residence at the time I was writing on it: Brooklyn. I used it to write about politics and culture and religion and the Mormon experience. After my faith fell apart, I took the blog down. But a few months ago I went back and read some of the posts. I still like many of them. They don't reflect my current reality or my current faith for the most part, but I think they reflect the kind of Mormon I was and they honor the good that Mormonism brought into my life.

So in this, the first part of my HURRICANE benediction, I share a handful of my blog posts from Outer Boroughs that I think capture who I was then, and who I hope in many respects I still am now:

Confession
Civil Breakdown
Convert Soul
Is God a Muskie?

To my Valentines...

2007-02-14T21:19:00.000-05:00

Happy Valentine's Day to my daughters. I love you girlies like crazy. And sometimes I miss you so much my heart hurts.

New York Times on Change Therapy

2007-02-12T10:36:00.000-05:00

A Mormon man and a BYU-trained therapist are among those featured in "Reining in Desires Proves Complex, at Best," a story on the front page of the Metro section of today's New York Times.

(Free registration with the New York Times is required to read the article.)

For the Bible Tells Me So

2007-02-08T00:28:00.000-05:00

This film is about faith, homosexuality, family, and the difference between what the Bible says and what it means. It was screened at Sundance this year, and though I haven't seen it, I did listen to this Radio West interview with the director. Have a listen.

Happy Birthday, J!

2007-01-25T09:50:00.003-05:00

Old man.

New Perspectives

2007-01-24T16:21:00.000-05:00

Last Saturday night, J and I were out with a couple of his friends, one of whom is a faithful and believing Catholic. Talk turned to religion and J, who was raised Mormon, asked her, "So, you believe that the Catholic Church is the one true church?" She looked at him as if he had asked her the question in Lithuanian. Then she looked as though the question had never crossed her mind.

Having spent the last year attending a church where no one is invested in whether or not it's the one and only true one, the question seemed odd to me as well. But I also understood that it made perfect sense, as I have sat through many testimony meetings in my life (not to mention Sunday School lessons, priesthood lessons, and sacrament meetings). Belief that the LDS Church is the only true church is integral for Mormons, and for many of us who were Mormon it is hard not to think about religion in other terms. So it is often surprising to realize that many people of faith and spirituality do not think in those terms at all. For our Catholic friend, her faith was not in a church that she considers to be the only true one or the guardian of ultimate truth. Rather it is a vehicle for cultivating spirituality and compassion.

I know many Mormons who are like this as well, to be sure. Indeed, I think the Mormons with whom I always have always felt most comfortable, both when I was a Mormon and since leaving the church, were those who don't seem particularly invested in the idea of a single true church at all. They practice their faith as though the Mormon Church is a right way rather than the only way. But J wasn't like that and even now in the post-Mormon phase of his life he couldn't really understand why anyone would be committed to a church they didn't think was God's True Church. For him it had always been the Mormon Church or no church. Always, that is, until our friend gave him that puzzled look and talked about her faith with us.

The next morning, J and I went with a group from my church in New Jersey to Sunday services at Marble Collegiate Church in Manhattan. J had been to services with me in New Jersey before (reluctantly, though he has since admitted that he liked it more than he wanted to), but he seemed to approach this experience with a new found openness. As he let go of the idea that there is or should be a single way or that churches themselves should proclaim such a thing, he seemed to discover that perhaps there were ways for him to connect to his spirituality that he thought he had rejected--that is, sitting at church on Sunday morning. I think it was a remarkable experience for him.

It reminded me of my first visit to Union Congregational, where I felt a sense of divine love and acceptance and connection that had been sorely lacking in my life to that point. I don't want to toss the baby out with the bath water as I move forward with my life. I'm still much more of a Christian-y agnostic than any kind of true believer, but that does not preclude me from embracing the support and meaning I find in church community and the sprituality I find in the beauty of Christian worship. I also am still deeply moved by the compassion and concern for the downtrodden that I find in the teachings of Jesus. The United Church of Christ, to which my congregation belongs, proclaims that God accepts us all where we are. I can't believe in things I don't believe in--and I am grateful to have found a reason and a place to to worship God in a setting where I'm not expected to.

Conscience

2007-01-12T12:23:00.000-05:00

What is conscience?

As I understand it, conscience is the inner sense of what is right or wrong in one's conduct or motives, which also impels one toward right. I remember telling investigators on my mission that conscience was the influence of the Holy Spirit, guiding them to do what is right. I know that's not doctrinal, but it was a useful way to explain to people how they could be guided to do the right and moral thing in their lives. And it was effective in showing people how something within them could enable them to align their lives with God's will.

This has been on my mind a lot of late. Over on L's blog, Scot and L are having a discussion about it that was sparked by L's post on Idolatry. Scot has also written recently about his struggle with conscience as a gay teen at Boys State. And in another online forum where I am a regular participant, there was a discussion that began with the question of how we would respond if forced to choose between our religion or our country. One of the participants said that he'd choose neither. He would instead choose his conscience.

Scot's story in particular reminded me of when I was new to New York City and had just been called to serve on the high council of our LDS stake in Brooklyn. I've written this story there, but I'd like to revisit it here as well.

The stake presidency knew I worked in public relations, so they gave me the stake public affairs portfolio as well as a ward assignment not long after I was called. This was in 1999, and there was talk in conservative circles here in New York of organizing a campaign against same-sex marriage, which was assumed to be on its way. The church had become active in this, and there was an unofficial coordinator who worked with all of the stake public affairs representatives in the area. I was handed a thick file documenting what action had been taken and what action was under consideration. I was encouraged to draft e-mails and letters to members of the state legislature, and to cultivate support for action against gay marriage in the wards in my stake.

I dragged my feet on it. I did not want to do it. At the time I convinced myself that I just didn't know where I stood on these issues for gay people (since I wasn't one!) and I even voiced some of my discomfort to a member of the stake presidency in a very private, very cautious way. He encouraged me to do my best, but the implication that I should do my best in support of the church's position was clear.

A few months later, before I had a chance to do anything, I was release from the High Council and called as bishop. I was relieved that I wouldn't have to deal with the same-sex marriage politics, because I was so conflicted about it. But then, in the last two years of my tenure as bishop, same-sex marriage politics REALLY began to heat up and I started to worry about the Church asking me to do something that would deepen my inner conflict, which had begun to intensify. But they never did.

Fast forward to earlier this year. The LDS Church did, finally, ask its bishops and branch presidents to read a letter to their congregations affirming the Church's support for a constitutional amendment banning gay marriage and asked its members to write to their elected representatives in Washington to express their support for such an amendment.

I wonder what I would have done if I had been the one presiding over the ward in Brooklyn earlier this year. Would I have read that letter? I don't know. It's hard for me now to think that I would, but I suspect I would have felt duty bound. Perhaps I would have excused myself from conducting the meeting that day so that one of my counselors would have been the one to give voice to the letter. I certainly can't imagine that I would have flatly refused to do it, and never mind making my reasons for not doing it public. In an interesting twist, though, the letter was read in my old ward in Brooklyn, which my family and I left in the summer of 2005, the same Sunday that most people in the ward found out that I was gay and that KK and I were getting divorced. I guess I ended up taking a stand against the Church's political statement after all. But it was not an act of conscience. It was a convergence of events that can be seen as a public statement of sorts.

Acts of conscience require some sort of action, often in opposition to or in support of someone or something else. My conscience -- my inner sense of what is right and wrong -- has been the guiding force that has moved me away from the LDS Church, and it is my conscience that consistently tells me that it is the right thing for me. Some might look at that and, because it conflicts with their faith or their world view, conclude that I am misguided, or that in choosing conscience I am rejecting God's plan for me and following a path that is false or harmful or immoral. Ultimately I think that says more about the person making that conclusion than it does about me. (Though I live with a certain amount of discomfort knowing that some friends and family likely think this about me. We all want to be validated.)

Whatever we think of other people's choices, I think most of us would agree that choosing not to follow one's conscience often leads to feelings of regret and unhappiness. My Mormon experience taught me to listen to the still small voice. I'm grateful for that learning.

Charlotte's Web

2007-01-03T20:37:00.000-05:00

Halfway through the movie, which my girls had already seen once, E leans over to me and whispers loudly, "Dad, it's even better the second time!"

I had a very nice holiday. Hope you did, too. Happy New Year!

No More Goodbyes: Circling the Wagons Around Our Gay Loved Ones

2006-12-23T10:34:00.000-05:00

Read this book:
I bought it a few weeks ago, but hadn't had the chance to dive into it until yesterday, when I had a long day of travel from New York to Salt Lake City. I started it on my flight from Newark to Chicago and finished it about 20 minutes before I landed in Salt Lake.

It is, in a word, remarkable. Carol Lynn Pearson is a voice of compassion and understanding for gay people and their families, particularly those from religious backgrounds. Of course, she comes to the topic from a very personal place. She married a gay man (and told the story of her marriage in the book Goodbye, I Love You), and her daughter married a gay man. She has befriended and comforted hundreds of gay people and their families since she began dealing with the "issue" of homosexuality in her life decades ago.

If you are gay, read this book. If you have a gay family member, read this book. If you have gay friends, read this book. If you want to better understand homosexuality, read this book. If you believe in love and family, read this book.

As I read the last few pages, I was overcome with emotion. I was sitting on a plane, surrounded by strangers, quietly weeping. They weren't tears of sadness. They were tears of gratitude that we have voices of compassion such as Carol Lynn Pearson's urging us on to be better than we are, to not accept what is as what must be. They were tears of gratitude that my family has circled their wagons around me, their gay loved one. And when I speak of my family, I speak of Keri and her parents and siblings, who have loved me through a crisis that led to a transformation of our family relationships. The one constant has been love. I am so grateful to be here with them for the Christmas holidays. I love them, and I know they love me. They are my family.

Read this book.

Happy Birthday to KK!

2006-12-21T13:06:00.000-05:00

I won't try to match the eloquence of her post on my birthday, but I do want to wish her the happiest of days here on the blog. Today she is a radiant 34.

In that post on my birthday, she wrote of me: The year between his 34th birthday and his 35th birthday is certainly the biggest of his life. To have accomplished all that he has in terms of facing a frightening truth, treating his family in a loving and considerate way while figuring out how to come out, deftly navigating the waters of homophobia and misplaced faith with grace and respect, and finishing the year by running TWENTY-SIX POINT TWO MILES is more than most of us accomplish in a lifetime.

KK has had a similarly momentous year between 33 and 34 that deserves some acknowledgement. She has faced the biggest crisis of her adult life with grace and forgiveness, extended (to many people unfathomable) compassion to me, begun the sometimes daunting process of trying to figure out what she wants to be when she grows up, and put herself in a place where she can be surrounded on a daily basis by the love and warmth and support of many people who love her deeply. She didn't cap her year off with a marathon, though if you asked her, I suspect she'd tell you that she feels like she has run one.

Join me in wishing her the best. Happy birthday, Keri!

Fear of my gay self

2006-12-20T10:05:00.000-05:00

I haven't been posting much, for a couple of reasons. First, I've been busy with the holidays and work and such. Second, I continue to struggle with this "voice" thing here on the blog. I'm working with a fellow blogger to develop a new site that will focus on, among other things, politics, policy and advocacy, so I'm staying away from those topics here. I've also enjoyed taking a break from examining my life inside and out as I find greater comfort in this new phase. I wrote in my post about my marathon that I achieved a certain measure of closure with that event, and with that closure has come a diminished need to write about my life, at least for now.

That said, there has been a topic lurking in my mind the past few weeks. It's a topic I have explored with my therapist as I have reflected on this past year of my life: my lingering internalized homophobia.

Interestingly, I did not seek to discuss this with him, because I didn't really even recognize it. But as I discussed some other issues, there it was. We've been talking a lot about my parents and the family I grew up in, and as we have I realized that I am still very umcomfortable talking to my parents about being gay, ending my marriage, the pain associated with the period of transition I have been through, and my new relationship. The more we talked, the more I realized that it's not just a matter of being uncomfortable. When I talk to my parents about being gay, I feel a deep sense of shame and inadequacy. This despite the fact that they have both professed their love and support for me and appear to have no moral objections to homosexuality themselves (remember, they aren't Mormon).

I think much of this is tied up in my childhood and the coping mechanisms I developed to deal with my parents' divorce and the long-distance relationship I had with my father. I never doubted my parents loved me, but I can see now with the benefit of hindsight how their conflict produced conflict within me. I was determined to have a better family life than they provided for me. I know I could do better than they did for my future children. I knew I could build a family that looked and behaved a lot differently than mine. Indeed, I think that was always part of the appeal of the LDS Church for me. It provided a solution to many of my problems with my family. And when my emerging sexuality started to trouble me as I was going through these difficult emotions with my parents, the LDS Church offered a solution for me with that as well. I could have a better family and I didn't have to be gay!

As I have emerged from my marriage and left the LDS Church, I have found comfort and happiness in being openly gay that I never imagined. Even in the face of disapproval from LDS friends and acquaintences, I no longer feel guilt or shame about being gay. No, it seems the only people I have those feelings with are... my parents!?

This has perplexed me. Why? They do not condemn or shun me or my homosexuality, so why am I so uncomfortable and ashamed and embarrased about being gay around them? One possibility is that as I was growing up I felt the need to protect my parents, to reassure them that I was okay! even when I was struggling terribly. (This is apparently not at all uncommon for children of divorce.) But the answer is also, at least in part, that being gay represents a failure of sorts for me as it relates to my relationship with my parents and my image of myself before them. Being gay has now denied me the perfect family I was raising. It has thrust me into a long-distance relationship of my own with my children. It has repudiated so many of the things I professed to stand for when I presented myself to them.

Now, the truth is that I really do feel that being openly gay has vastly improved my life and most of my relationships, particularly with my kids and, ironically, with KK. I feel like I am more open and honest and authentic and that has produced more good fruit than bad. I am still a father, still committed to the well being of my family. I know that I am a better parent to my children than my parents were to me. So the "failure" I feel with my parents is purely emotional. I don't believe I have failed in their eyes. I just feel that way when I talk to them. And no one else inspires those feelings in me anymore in such a strong way--just my parents.

Being gay in a straight world forces many of us to make compromises with ourselves even before we are old enough to realize what we are doing. And once we begin to emerge from the closet and the fear of ourselves--our own homophobia--that the closet breeds so aggressively, we often find that it has sunk roots deep into our souls in ways we never anticipated and certainly never realized. I'm not a big New Year's resolution guy, but in 2007, I resolve to shake as much of this lingering internalized homophobia as I can so that I can live my life openly and share it happily and fearlessly with all the people I love and who love me in return.

The wisdom of Logo

2006-12-14T10:21:00.000-05:00

I was watching Logo the other night when they did a little promo for the channel that featured a young woman who looked into the camera and said, "My sexuality is only a small part of who I am." Then she pauses and says, with a laugh, "But it's also a HUGE part of who I am!"

Exactly!

It's the holiday season...

2006-12-11T07:33:00.000-05:00

...and I don't seem to have much time to post anything new. So Merry Christmas, Happy Hannukah, and Joyful Festivus to you all!

Thanksgiving Weekend

2006-11-26T15:03:00.000-05:00

This Thanksgiving weekend I am grateful for my family and the many other wonderful people in my life.

On Thanksgiving day, our table included Keri's cousin Joel, Jed's friend Ben (and now my friend too!), Keri, L, Jed, and E.

Friday I had to work, but the girls joined me. We took the ferry across the Hudson to Lower Manhattan from the train station in Hoboken. It was a gorgeous day. L can never keep her finger out of her nose for pictures.

The weekend was capped with a birthday party and a baptismal service for E. On the almost eve of her eighth birthday, she was baptized at Union Congregational Church in Montclair, surrounded by family and friends.

New Voice

2006-11-24T12:29:00.000-05:00

you are making an impact--not by writing about what you think--but by writing about what you do, proving that your path can lead to a productive, happy, healthy live.

As I have comtemplated where to go with this blog, I keep coming back to this comment from santorio, left on my "Frustration" thread. I want to continue writing about my coming out experiences, and I'd like to extend my writing back to include earlier times in my life as well.

HURRICANE will now be a debate-free zone. I still welcome comments and discussion about the issues that emerge in discussion of my life experiences, but I won't be using this blog to debate about homosexuality. My position is as clear as it could be: I am not conflicted about the morality of homosexuality or homosexual relationships, and I reject the suggestion that homosexuality is inherently defective or that homosexual relationships are inherently sinful. We've had those discussions, and this will no longer be the place for them.

I am not, however, abandoning active debate about gay issues. At some point between now and the end of 2006, I intend to start a new blog that will focus on gay rights, activism, politics and the many and varied social issues that impact gay people. Stay tuned.

Frustration

2006-11-15T16:06:00.000-05:00

I haven't had much to say lately. Well, actually, that's not true. I have a lot to say. But now that I have moved into a new phase of life, I'm having a hard time figuring out the right way and the right place to say it. This blog was originally a form of therapy for me. It was a place I could write about my coming out experience, my changing religious beliefs, my evolving family structure, the end of my marriage, and the beginning of a new relationship. But I'm out now, and my life has found a certain stability that it lacked when I started this blog.

So that's my first frustration. HURRICANE needs a new voice and I'm struggling to find it.

My second frustration is what I feel is the failure of my ongoing dialogue about gay Mormon issues with many Mormons, including the gay married Mormons that I share space with here in the gay Mormon bloggosphere. I'm certain that I bear some of the responsibility for that failure. I feel a great deal of frustration that so many who look at the world through the LDS prism see homosexuality and homosexual relationships as monolithic. Committed partnerships, truck stop trists on the New Jersey Turnpike, an honest divorce, a long-term secret love affair. From the LDS perspective, all seem to be the same because they are homosexual in nature. It seems obvious to me that they are not.

I'm generalizing my interactions here. In fact, I have made a lot of progress toward mutual respect and understanding with many of the LDS people who are most important to me in my life--family, including my dear former in-laws whom I still love like my own parents, and many longtime friends. It seems to be online where I encounter most of my frustration.

I'm aware of my own bias. I acknowledge that when I see men living through situations similar to my own I want to encourage them to follow a similar path, for their own sake and for the sake of their wives. I want to tell struggling young gay Mormons to accept their sexuality, embrace themselves and the blessing of being gay, and see what life outside the confines of Mormonism might offer them. I see the struggles of so many and think that so much of the pain and loneliness felt by those in and out of marriages could be alleviated if they could just accept that homosexuality is normal and homosexuals can live happy, healthy, well-adjusted lives as homosexuals.

John Galt suggested to me that I've forgotten what it's like to be Mormon. I suppose he's right. As odd as this is coming from a former LDS bishop, I can no longer understand why we are willing to endure so much pain for religious beliefs which utterly fail to explain human reality. This is not just a criticism of LDS Mormonism and homosexuality. I read in this morning's paper about the recent decision of Conference of Catholic Bishops in the U.S. to reiterate the church's prohibition on articifical contraception. I find myself scratching my head when I encounter moments when religious dogma is more important than the daily realities of people's lives. Too often it seems that tradition is exalted above actual people. That frustrates me.

I'm picking on religion here, but dogmas are found in many varieties. I know that some of my critics here in gay Mormondom think I'm dogmatic in my embrace of gay pride. I'm willing to admit that I might be at times. I try very hard not to be, but I know that I fail. I try to understand my own truth and recognize that it applies to me and no one else. But sometimes the evangelical zeal grabs hold.

The holidays are soon upon us. My children and KK (and the dog!) arrive tonight for a two week visit. I think it's time to stop convincing for awhile. We often try to convince others primarily as a way to convice ourselves. I don't want to do that anymore. I'm happy with where I am in life. I don't need to convince myself or anyone else of that. I think the best convincing I can do now will come through the example of a life lived fully and honestly.

Bear with me will I try to find a new voice.

Decision 2006

2006-11-07T15:59:00.000-05:00

I voted today on a fancy new electronic voting machine. Here's hoping my vote actually gets counted.

I marked my ballot as follows:

U.S. Senate: ("Boss") Bob Menendez (D)
U.S. House, 8th District-NJ: Bill Pascrell (D)
Essex County Executive: Joseph D. Vincenzo (D)

Property Tax Reform: YES
Preserved Open Space Amendment to State Constitution: YES
Gasoline Tax Reallocation Amendment to State Constitution: YES

In many years, I might have considered voting for Sen. Menendez's Republican challenger, Tom Kean, Jr. But not this year with control of the Senate hanging in the balance.

Same-Sex Marriage and Polygamy

2006-11-04T11:07:00.000-05:00

As you might have seen, the commments following my rant about anti-gay Republican campaign tactics evolved into a discussion of same-sex marriage. My friend Scot has responded to comments left by my friend Jason comparing same-sex marriage and polygamy.

Celebration!

2006-11-03T21:49:00.000-05:00

Last Saturday some friends and I celebrated my 35 years on the planet and my year out of the closet. We ate, drank, and were merry!

I Despise the GOP

2006-11-01T16:26:00.000-05:00

I'm not sure than anyone who reads this blog much cares for my periodic political rants, but that's not going to stop me from making one.

It's no secret that I'm a Democrat. That wasn't always the case. As recently as 2004 I was a registered Republican in New York state (though I've been moving steadily to the left in my politics since about 2001). But I am a Democrat now, and next Tuesday I'll be casting my vote for Bob Menendez in the hopes that he will be a part of a Democratic majority in the United States Senate. On issues ranging from tax policy to immigration to homeland security to the war in Iraq, my views are better represented by the Democrats than the GOP. Plus, I'm sick to death of hearing Republicans demonize those who oppose the Bush Administration's strategy (or lack thereof) in Iraq and the fight against global terrorism as unpatriotic cowards at best, traitors at worst.

But one issue makes my blood boil: GOP hypocrisy on gay rights. As others have pointed out of late, demonizing gays and fighting same-sex marriage is a tried-and-true Republican campaign tactic. And with the recent court ruling in New Jersey granting gay couples the same rights as heterosexual couples, Republican anti-gay rhetoric has been turned up several notches. President Bush has been leading the way in fighting to "protect" "traditional" marriage.

Nevermind that I have yet to hear a coherent and convincing argument about how homosexuals wanting to make a commitment to each other is anti-family or threatens the marriages of heterosexual couples. (Indeed, given that many gay men and women are parents, I think opposition to gay marriage is the true anti-family position.) President Bush has perfected the art of demonizing his political opponents, so it's pretty easy to dismiss his rhetoric as a simple manifestation of his propensity to adopt immoral and dishonest campaign tactics.

What infuriates is that the GOP does this while relying on the talents and skills of gays and lesbians to, among other things, run the House of Representatives, implement global health policy, advise members of Congress and manage their staffs, and manage its political campaigns. I'm tempted to condemn those gays and lesbians who work for politicians and policymakers who demonize them and stand in opposition to granting them equality in their relationships. But my scorn is reserved instead for the GOP leaders, from President Bush to Senator Rick Santorum (whose chief spokesman is gay) to Karl Rove (whose adoptive father was gay), who so callously use these people for political gain while stomping on their dignity and humanity.

When I was living life in the closet, passing as a straight man, it was easy for me to not care much about all of this. Now that I am acutely aware that I as a gay man am a target of such hateful politics, I find it much harder to swallow. I see activism in my future.

Same-Sex Marriage in New Jersey

2006-10-25T15:40:00.000-04:00

We interrupt this birthday celebration with the news that the New Jersey Supreme Court has today ruled that under the state constitution homosexual couples have the same rights as heterosexual couples, and New Jersey will recognize same-sex unions.

We now return you to birthday programming.

A Big One...

2006-10-25T02:02:00.000-04:00

Today, dear readers, the Hurricane turns 35. The year between his 34th birthday and his 35th birthday is certainly the biggest of his life. To have accomplished all that he has in terms of facing a frightening truth, treating his family in a loving and considerate way while figuring out how to come out, deftly navigating the waters of homophobia and misplaced faith with grace and respect, and finishing the year by running TWENTY-SIX POINT TWO MILES is more than most of us accomplish in a lifetime.

Happy Birthday, Chris. I know I'm not the only one who is honored to be a part of your life today. You truly have a positive effect on everyone around you and you will be toasted in many cities for many years to come. And to J, who should be reading this, the thoughtfulness you put into helping Chris have a great day touched me deeply. Celebrate like only the gays can!

To everyone reading this, post a little something here about how Chris has been a part of your journey, whatever it is. Sometimes I think he forgets how many people have felt the ripple effect of the Hurricane.

Happy 35th!

With love, truly,

Keri

Chicago Marathon

2006-10-23T19:53:00.000-04:00

Last year, about the time I came out to KK, I started running. I wanted to get into shape, and it was also a welcome distraction from the emotional upheaval that I was going through.

Somewhere along the way, I decided to run a marathon. I thought I'd train to do a race in 2007, but KK encouraged me to do it this year. So I signed up for the Chicago Marathon, which ran yesterday. Chicago was a meaningful choice. I lived there for two years with KK after we got married, and my family is nearby in Wisconsin.

Yesterday with the temperature reading a nippy 38 at race time and with drizzle in the air, I ran. Ran like I've never run before. I hoped to finish in four hours, but a tweaked knee at mile 15 slowed me down. I crossed the finish line at 4:45:21. I cried through much of the last five miles of the race and was in a full weep as I hit the finish. I was filled with a sense of accomplishment, but also felt that I had finally reached a point of closure on a difficult period in my life. My marathon was very closely tied up in the coming out process for me. I spent many solitary hours in training, listening to my iPod, and thinking about my life. The old Chris would have never run a marathon. The new Chris did, and enjoyed every moment of it, even the painful ones.

I had my own personal cheering section: KK, E, L, my mom, her boyfriend, my sister and her boyfriend. My boyfriend, J, wanted to be there and was in both spirit and in the music on my iPod that took me across the finish line. And today I can hardly walk and have some nasty blisters to show for my effort. Hard work can be painful.

Training

2006-10-16T09:45:00.000-04:00

Marathon on Sunday. Talk to you next week.

Growing Up Fast

2006-10-12T18:30:00.000-04:00

A couple months ago I was on a commuter train with my older daughter, who will be 8 in November. We were waiting for the train to pull out of the station when a woman got on and announced that she was homeless, a widow, and something "really bad" had happened to her and her children that afternoon. She needed to raise $15 before the end of the day.

I have seen this woman on the subway in the city several times, and she always tells the same story. Needless to say, I wasn't buying what she was selling. But little E was completely captivated and as the story became more compelling, she looked at me with pleading blue eyes and implored me to give this woman some money. I just shook my head "no" as the woman walked past us and then off the train.

E immediately turned and looked at me disapprovingly. "Daddy! Why didn't we help her?"

"Sweetie," I said, "I've seen that lady in the subway and on the train before and she always tells the same story. She's not telling the truth."

"Oh," said E knowingly. "Alcohol?"

National Coming Out Day

2006-10-11T00:05:00.000-04:00

National Coming Out Day, a project of the Human Rights Campaign, is today, October 11.

Coming out is a process, not a single event. I've learned this over and over again over the past 18 months. Even now, I am out to nearly everyone in my life but I still find myself often facing situations where I ask myself the question, "Should I tell?" Without a doubt, coming out was one of the best things I've ever done, for myself and, I believe, for those I love. If you're gay, no matter where you are in the process of coming out, to yourself or to others, let today be a day of reflection--and celebration!

When Not Seeing Is Believing

2006-10-09T23:59:00.000-04:00

Andrew Sullivan, a gay conservative commentator, blogger and writer, has a fascinating essay in the October 9 issue of Time magazine.

A sample:

Fundamentalism is not the only valid form of faith, and to say it is, is the great lie of our time. There is also the faith that is once born and never experiences a catharsis or born-again conversion. There is the faith that treats the Bible as a moral fable as well as history and tries to live its truths in the light of comtemporary knowledge, history, science and insight. There is a faith that draws important distinctions between core beliefs and less vital ones...

Decision 2006

2006-10-04T14:10:00.000-04:00

It's election season. After six years of George W. Bush, twelve years of a Republican Congress, and three years of a poorly planned and executed Iraq war, things could get very interesting this November. But for the incompetence and lack of vision of the national Democrats, massive GOP losses would seem a sure bet. As it is, the country once again looks to be very evenly divided.

I will be casting my ballot in one of the tightest races for the Senate this year, the New Jersey battle between Democratic Sen. Bob Menendez and Republican Tom Kean, Jr., a state senator and son of a popular former governor. I keep tabs on the Jersey race and other races across the country at Electoral Vote, a website that highlights daily and weekly polls from races around the country and keeps a running tally of the likely outcome of the race for control of Congress.

I've never been a party-line or one issue voter. I've voted for Republicans and Democrats. I voted for George W. Bush in 2000 (a source of ongoing shame for me) and John Kerry in 2004. But this year, I'm rooting hard for every Democrat on the ballot. I'll be voting for Sen. Menendez. I'll be rooting for Sheldon Whitehouse in Rhode Island, even though he's running against my favorite Republican Senator, Lincoln Chaffee. The fallout from the Mark Foley scandal has convinced me that the national GOP has become thoroughly corrupt. That, together with the Bush Administration's failures in Iraq and fiscal policy and the ongoing pandering of the Republicans to the anti-gay right, makes it clear for me. We need change of direction. Vote Democratic.

Jim McGreevey

2006-09-27T16:16:00.000-04:00

"At a point in every person's life one has to look deeply into the mirror of one's soul and decide one's unique truth in the world. Not as we may want to see it or hope to see it, but as it is."

Jim McGreevey spoke these words in August 2004, when he faced the news media and the public to announce that he was gay, had engaged in an adulterous affair with another man, and was resigning his office because of it.

When he came out, I was deeply ambivalent. On the one hand, I thought to myself that but for the grace of God, I might have gone where he had. On the other, I was jealous that he had declared his sexuality to the world and no longer had to hide his truth.

The governor has been all over the news again the last few weeks with the release of his new book, The Confession. I have seen several of his interviews, and have consistently been impressed with his forthrightness and his acknowledgement of his mistakes, his horrible errors of judgement and his moral failings. I have also been struck by how deeply his experience of struggling to understand himself mirrors my own. He has spoken about how being gay was something he did not want to "own" because it did not fit with the dreams he had for himself and his life. For years, I felt the same way. And while I was not the powerful governor of a populous state when my world began to collapse, I was in a postion of standing in my little Mormon community in Brooklyn. I undertand when he talks about the heavy burden of duality.

I heard him speak last night at the New School in Manhattan. I was again impressed. At one point, he said that when he speaks to people around the country he tells them "don't do what I did." In one sense, he's absolutely right. If you're gay, don't hide. And if you're gay and married, don't betray your spouse with an affair. But I think Governor McGreevey underestimates the power of his example. We should all do what he did--look into the mirror of our soul and accept our unique truth as it is. We should live and love as whole and integrated beings.

Accept the gift of your creation. Do what Jim McGreevey did.

A man walks into a bar...

2006-09-20T23:46:00.000-04:00

A man walks into a pub in Dublin, orders three pints, and takes them off to a quiet corner table. He sets the pints in front of himself and proceeds to take a drink from each one. He repeats this until all three pints are finished.

The bartender approaches him and says, “You know Paddy, I can bring you a fresh pint after you drink one. You don’t have to sip all three like that.”

Paddy looks up and says, “Oh no, this is how I always drink me pints. You see, many years ago, me two brothers left Ireland, one for America, and the other for Australia. We promised each other then that we’d continue to have a pint together every night despite the great distance between us. So I order one pint for me, and one for each of me brothers. And I drink with them!”

The bartender smiles and says, “Ah, Paddy, that’s a fine tradition you have there.”

For the next several weeks, Paddy continued to come into the pub each evening to “share” a few pints with his brothers.

Then one night he walks in, looks at the bartender and says, “I’ll have just two pints tonight.” The bartender is confused, then saddened. A hush falls over the bar as the patrons realize that Paddy surely had lost one of his brothers.

The bartender brings the two pints to Paddy’s usual table and says to him, “Paddy, we just want you to know that we are all deeply sorry for your loss.”

Paddy looks up, puzzled. Then he smiles and says, “Oh no, you’ve got it all wrong. Neither of me brothers died. It’s just that I’ve gone and joined the Mormon Church and I can’t drink anymore!”

One year later

2006-09-17T23:49:00.000-04:00

September 17 is my outiversary. One year ago, I came out to Keri. I told her after 10 years of marriage and several months of quiet agony for us both that I am gay.

In so many ways, it seems like that day was a very long time ago—much longer than a year. It feels like I have lived a lifetime since then. I didn’t know what was going to happen after that moment of truth. Though I trusted that I knew Keri well, I imagined the worst possible reactions to my revelation: rejection, bitterness, anger. I was ashamed, so full of guilt and self loathing when I finally told Keri the truth. I couldn’t imagine that I would ever feel comfortable with myself as an openly gay man and I certainly didn’t think I’d feel that way in just a year’s time. But today, one year after I began the process of coming out, I am openly and comfortably gay.

It is ironic that Keri has been my indispensable guide on the journey to self acceptance. Ironic, of course, because her unconditional love and support ultimately hastened the end of our marriage. My emotions one year later are mixed. I feel loss and sadness, and I miss much about the life I had until a year ago. But I also feel freedom and relief, optimistic that my life as a gay man will be better than I ever imagined it could be, and better than what my life had become before I came out. Keri can share in my optimism (and she does) and feel happiness for me as her closest friend (and she does), but I think today is a day when her own loss feels particularly sharp and her burden particularly heavy. I'm grateful, though, that her sacrifice—one she didn’t want to make—has deepened and broadened our friendship, something that will ultimately serve us well as we work together in the coming years to raise our beautiful daughters. Keri has proven true the old adage, “if you love something, set it free.” I am grateful for her love, her bravery, her continued friendship, and her willingness to let me be the cheetah God made me.

Many of my fears about coming out have not come to pass. I have found love and support and acceptance not just from Keri, but from my young children, my extended family, and many of my friends. My loss of faith in the LDS Church has been tempered by the discovery of a new spirituality and the embrace of an open and affirming church community. My loss of proximity to my children has been tempered by the certain faith I have in their mother and her extended family to keep me close and engaged with them. I speak to my girls every day. We do homework over the phone. We’ve planned several trips to see each other already. And Keri works hard every day to make sure my girls feel my presence and know that I am still intimately involved in the details of their lives. I feared losing my family. I fear that no more.

Many of my hopes for the future have begun to be realized as well. I have found a new community and network of friends, gay and straight, and many of my new gay friends have become outstanding role models for me. I have found acceptance and love from my colleagues at work. I have found the love and affection of another man—and offered it in return. I have found wonderful normalcy.

Closets are dark, confining places that damage psyches and relationships. I have learned that there is no substitute for transparency and openness in relationships, even about some of the most difficult and sensitive issues we face in our personal and family lives. Dogma is seductive for the easy answers it provides but dangerous for the very same reasons and the corrosive effect in can have on relationships and our ability to love others and empathize with them as they navigate their way through life. Love—being willing to walk in another’s shoes—is always the better way.

I have over the past year considered from time to time whether I would change myself if I were presented with a “cure” for my homosexuality, if for no other reason than to save my marriage. I’m glad I don’t have to make that choice, but I am more certain than ever that were it a real choice, I would decline it. Sacrificing my homosexuality would require me to sacrifice something essentially me. I know that more than ever. I am normal. I am complete. My sense of self is increasingly whole and integrated. I am a father, a friend, a brother, a son, a companion, a boyfriend, a professional. And I am gay.

Rebuilding is never easy work. A year after Katrina, the storm that I adopted as a metaphor for the turmoil of my own life, New Orleans is still a city in crisis. And one year after my personal crisis came to its climax, there is still much work to do for me too—as a father, as a former husband, as a friend, as a gay man. But life marches on, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let it pass me by.

Response to John Galt

2006-09-15T00:34:00.000-04:00

For the first time I read John Galt's blog tonight, and originally wrote the following as a comment. The longer it became, the more I felt it should be here, and not there.

A few posts ago, in response to my friend Ariane (a very wise person...) John Galt wrote:

To me, either the church is true or the church is not true. To say that it is still true, that the plan of salvation is REAL, but perhaps its doctrine concerning gay relationships is wrong... that two men CAN be together... well, to me that just doesn't fit.

Sadly, that is also the reality for me. I had always realized that there were "cultural" things about the church that I was able to dismiss as inventions of men, but that the doctrine the church leaders put forward as revelations they had received from God was all true. So when there was something hard to swallow, I could build on my belief in the SYSTEM, the idea of revelation, and convince myself that even difficult doctrines were true.

In the weeks after Chris came out to me, we spent hours and hours pouring over his experience as a gay child, adolescent and man. In Mormon terms, I received witnesses as powerful as I've ever had that his experience was "true," that his soul and spirit are gay and that has always been and will always be. When I lined that witness up against the church's doctrine, I knew which one was not true. After that realization, that something the church said came from God was in fact an invention of men (well-intentioned, caring men, but men nonetheless) I could no longer rely on the SYSTEM and many of my other beliefs in Mormon doctrine unraveled as a result.

I have friends and family who seem to be able to let this kind of thing roll off their backs, to believe what they are able to believe, and judge for themselves what is revelation and what's not, and therefore remain actively Mormon even though some of the doctrines don't ring true to them. I am not able to do this. To quote John Galt again, it's either true or it's not, as a package. There isn't a half-way Mormon for me.

That said, my experience is a result of extremely personal revelation, and one of the things I think I've learned over the past year is that truth may be relative, even for God. I believe in a God that would manifest the absolute truthfulness of one idea or path to someone for whom that is the best way, and the opposite to someone else. I believe in a God whose wisdom is so infinite that he is able to see countless individuals' complex situations, help them find their way, and confirm that way as truth. I think we get ourselves into trouble when we compare one person's truth to another's and attempt to judge one as "correct" and anything else as "false."

John Galt, I hope you receive inspiriation and revelation for you and your family, that your truth is made manifest to you, and that all of us can continue to support and love one another despite our differences of belief.

"Because he's gay"

2006-09-13T15:46:00.000-04:00

The mood has been heavy in these parts of late. So, in the interest in bringing a little humor to this blog, I share a story about my four-year-old, as told to me by her mother.

KK and the girls are living with KK's parents for the time being, and E, my older daughter, often plays with a little girl whose grandparents live next door. Yesterday, L, my younger girl, said something to KK about this friend living next door. KK corrected her and told her that she actually lived somewhere else but visited her grandma and grandpa often. KK also mentioned that the friend's parents are divorced and that she sometimes lives with her dad.

Referring to the friend's father's divorced status, L said, "Because he's gay." KK told her no, actually, he's getting married again. "To a girl?" The thought seemed bewildering to her! Alas, dear child, straight people sometimes get divorced too.

Remembering 9/11

2006-09-11T17:11:00.000-04:00

This morning I rode into Manhattan from New Jersey and took the PATH train from Hoboken across to the World Trade Center. As the train pulled into the station, which looks out over the hole in the ground where the towers once were, I caught glimpse of the memorial service going on there to mark the five year anniversary of the terrorist attacks on New York City.

I was not downtown that day in 2001. I worked in midtown then, and the closest I came to the towers that day was 34th Street. I did not lose any friends, though several were in harm’s way. My primary memory of 9/11 is of the eerie silence that descended over the city as I walked by myself north to the Upper West Side, where I was living temporarily.

Then, as now, I was living apart from my family. It was a temporary arrangement while we transitioned from our rental to our condo. My younger daughter was still just an idea. My older daughter—then my only child—was far away with her mom in Utah, awaiting the move to our new home. I shared the trauma of September 11 with Uncle D.

I was reunited with KK and E about a week later, when I finally was able to get on an almost entirely empty flight to Utah. When I arrived I cried as I hugged them with relief.

It seems strangely appropriate that I remember 9/11 today with my family far away, as they were five years ago. Today I feel the loneliness of that day five years ago. I offer nothing profound as I remember 9/11. It was a tragic, traumatic day. I remember the lives lost and the sacrifices made. Though the tragedy and trauma of my own life over the past year is of a very different kind than what we are remembering on this fifth anniversary of the terrorist attacks, I am nonetheless feeling my own very personal loss today.

But I'm grateful that I also feel hope today, just as I did then. I've always been an optimist.

Joy, sorrow and wonderful normalcy

2006-08-30T11:51:00.000-04:00

I had dinner last night with Uncle D. He asked me how I was doing. My answer: "My life is wonderful, and my life sucks."

First, the sucks.

KK and the girls went to Utah in early August. They planned to stay for the month, then return to New Jersey so the girls--all three of them--could start school. E is in second grade this year. L starts Pre-K. And KK was to start her second semester of graduate school studies in social work. I was also going to establish my own residence rather than continuing to live in the attic and in the city with friends as I had been doing for the past few months.

But if I've learned nothing over the past year of my life, I've learned that things change. Life happens. And after spending a week or so in Salt Lake, KK made an important decision. She looked at her situation, considered her need to start over and the emotional support that a new beginning requires, and told me that she thought it might be better for her to stay in Utah and start the next phase of her life there. I was devastated. I imagine I feel very much the way KK felt last fall when I first came out to her and then told her I wanted to end our marriage. She didn't want that, but she accepted it and supported me as I emerged from the closet and began living as an openly gay man. And now she has made a decision that I don't really want, but which I accept because I love her and support her and trust that she is making the best decision for herself, which is ultimately best for our children and our family.

As I have struggled to accept this new reality over the past couple of weeks, I have battled feelings of guilt. The guilt exists on at least two levels. I feel guilty about starting the chain of events that has led us to this point of separation. And I feel guilty that my children will have to grow up in a way that, at least on the surface, looks like the way I grew up--divorced parents living in different states. I am still dealing with the fallout from that experience and at times it is unbearable to think that my children will have to deal with that as well. In my good moments, I am able to remind myself that I am not my father and Keri is not my mother and we do not feel the mutual animosity and ill will that my parents felt. In my bad moments, Keri is able to remind me of this.

Is this ideal? No. But it is our reality. And Keri and I have decided that we need not let the ideal be an enemy of the good. We'll make the best of it. And I am looking forward to this weekend, which I will spend in Salt Lake with Keri and the girls. I miss them. All three of them.

Second, the wonderful.

I feel more myself and more comfortable with the life I am living than I ever have before. I don't feel gay--and I certainly don't feel straight!--I simply feel... normal. Who knew that normal could feel so good?

In the midst of this wonderful normalcy, I have met someone. I have been reluctant to talk about him on my blog because the relationship is still new and I'm not always sure how to "come out" to people about it. I also don't want to expose this relationship to scorn and judgment from people who disapprove for whatever reason. But he is a source of joy for me, and I want to acknowledge that here where I have written so much about my changing life.

He has a Mormon background, so he understands that part of my experience. He is kind, caring, compassionate, funny, smart and terribly good looking. He shares my values and is respectful of my family and our unusual and evolving family structure. In short, he has become an important part of my life and I feel blessed to have him.

As my friend Leonard once wrote to me, life is wonderful even when it sucks.

Following different paths

2006-08-28T12:05:00.000-04:00

I came across a new blog this morning. A Glass Darkly is written by a gay married man here in the metro New York City area who has just been through his own hurricane. Reading his story stirred up so much emotion for me. We live in the same city. We are almost the same age. We both have children. We were both young high priests in the LDS church. I did not fall into the love affair that he did, but as Santorio commented on one his posts, "There but for the grace of God go I..."

But more than that, as I read his blog I started to feel for the first time that though I share so much in common with this man, and the many others who share the experience of being gay and married and Mormon, there is almost nothing I can write or say that will be of any help to him--or me, as I move on in my life. Indeed, I've started to feel that there is nothing I can say on any of the blogs of gay married LDS men who want to stay in the Church that will be helpful to those on the "other" side. -L- and I went a couple of rounds on this blog a couple of weeks ago, but I was able to convince myself that it was a beneficial discussion. That I understood him better and he understood me better after the discussion was through. But now, after reading this new blog and posts on some of the others that have shown up lately, I don't think I have anything to offer--or, perhaps more accurately, nothing I have to offer is wanted by those who still believe that Mormonism and marriage are the only paths that lead to real and lasting happiness.

So, brethren, I will be taking a break from commenting on your blogs. I welcome your continued readership here, and even your comments. In time, perhaps I'll return to your blogs as well. Regardless, I wish you all the best of luck.

Faith, reason and truth claims

2006-08-23T15:02:00.000-04:00

This summer I read a provocative book called The End of Faith. Given where I am in my journey of faith, it was an important read for me. It took me further down the road of confronting my doubts and examining my religious beliefs with the same rigor I apply to evaluating the factual claims I face on a daily basis in my personal and professional life.

Today I came across this quote on the website of the National Review. It resonates with me as I examine my life, my choices, my faith and my doubts.

I bow before — and therefore “respect” — the aesthetic legacy of Christianity. My life would be immeasurably poorer without Bach’s St. Matthew’s Passion, B Minor Mass, and cantatas, or Mozart’s great choral works; it would not be life as I know it but a sad hollow thing. I also recognize that countless men of intellect light years superior to mine have been drawn to the great philosophical enterprise of Christian theology. But I will treat the truth claims of Christianity just as I would any other proposition about the world. The claim that we are overseen by an omniscient, omnipotent God who also loves every human being and treats every human being with justice does not square with the slaughter of the innocents that I see every day. I do not understand why religion should get a pass from the empirical and logical demands that we make towards other factual proposition. Nor do I think that serious believers exempt other religions from such demands. Do Catholics, for example, believe that the angel Moroni gave Joseph Smith a pair of magic spectacles in 1827 with which to read the mysterious golden tablets from God? And if not, why not? Doesn’t it matter whether it is true or not, or is it OK to live in error as long as one is happy?
- Heather MacDonald, NationalReview.com

And now for something completely different

2006-08-21T20:33:00.000-04:00

This blog has been almost exclusively about my journey out of the closet as it relates to my family and my relationship with Mormonism. But over the past year, I have also come out at work. At first, I did so very selectively and quietly. But at about the same time I came out to friends through this blog in May, I also came out much more widely at the office. My entire team knows that I am gay, and I am now the editor of the newsletter of my firm's gay and lesbian professionals network. It has been a rewarding experience and the responses I have gotten from my colleagues have been overwhelmingly positive and affirming.

I came out at work for the same reason I have come out to others in my life--to be authentic and honest. But according to Time magazine, this also may have been a smart career move on my part.

Come Out. Move Up?

LDS.org "interview" on homosexuality

2006-08-18T10:25:00.000-04:00

Because I know it won't be good for me, I'm not planning on commenting extensively on this interview-like interview that has been posted on the LDS Church's website. But since this is a blog that explores the gay Mormon experience, I feel some obligation to link to it.

Suffice it to say that as a gay man who feels alienated from the Church in part because of this issue, this interview has done nothing to draw me closer. Just the opposite.

Put your shoulder to the wheel

2006-08-15T15:36:00.000-04:00

This post is for all of you gay married LDS out there who are still faithfully committed to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. There is work to do.

Once upon a time, I was an active participant at a little discussion site called Nauvoo.com. The site is owned by Mormon science fiction writer Orson Scott Card and has a little agreement called the Nauvoo Charter by which all participants must abide. Basically, you have to be a faithful, believing Latter-day Saint to participate on the site. In the day, it was a great place, particularly from my still faithful but liberal and unorthodox perspective. The discussions there shaped my evolving religious beliefs and were a nice balance to some of the more critical discussions I got into on other sites.

Nauvoo has changed. They've pretty much run the liberal Mormons out of town. For obvious reasons, I can't participate there anymore. (Turns out I've changed too!) But I still lurk. This discussion recently caught my attention. From my current vantage point, it is a fairly astonishing look at what average Mormons think about homosexuals and homosexuality. If you faithful gays want to change some attitudes (because I think we all agree that some attitudes need a'chagin'), this could be one place to start. And as Latter-day Saints in good standing, you'll be a lot more credible than this ol' ex-bishop apostate homo.

Moderated comments

2006-08-14T12:03:00.000-04:00

Last week I turned off the moderation feature in the comments section of the blog. I thought that things had calmed down sufficiently that I didn't really have to worry about filtering out inappropriate or hateful comments. I was wrong, so moderation is back on.

Also, I will not post anonymous comments, supportive or critical, anymore, period. If you have something to say use your name or blogger profile (which is acceptable to me--I have friends here in cyberspace who do not use their real names but have an accountable and responsible identity). If you don't want your comment to be public, then e-mail me.

If you are going to hide behind the cloak of anonymity, we have nothing to discuss.

My Cheetah

2006-08-08T13:45:00.000-04:00

I was watching the movie "Duma" recently with my girls. I highly recommend it, by the way, to any of you with kids. Anyway, it's the story of a boy who lives on a plantation in Africa with his parents. He's riding in a car with his dad one night and they see a baby cheetah in the middle of the road, and stop. They can't see the mother anywhere and the boy begs his dad to take it home with them. The dad agrees, but makes sure the boy knows that he can't keep the cheetah forever, that they can help it learn to take care of itself but that they'll have to return it to the wild someday. The boy says he understands. They take it home, name it Duma (Swahili for cheetah), nurse it, raise it, try to teach it to hunt (which it can't do) and have fun with it. After a series of other adventures, the boy goes to return the cheetah to the wild. Duma runs into the savannah and immediately finds another cheetah to hang around with, and is finally successful at hunting and being the cheetah he was born to be. He turns back to look at the boy, and obviously recognizes him, but then runs away with the other cheetah and the boy is left in sadness. Of course, the moral of the story is that the boy loves Duma, and so he sets him free to be who he was meant to be. He understands that keeping him in captivity, while it's great for the boy, won't make Duma the happiest he can be.

I'm sure you all have guessed my intention in posting this story here. At the end of the movie, I told my daughter that was kind of how I feel about her dad. Of course I'm sad to set him free, but I know he's meant to be a cheetah, and because I love him, I want him to be the happiest he can be. She liked that.

Chris is running with another cheetah now, and though he looks back at me, I know he's happier in the savannah than on the plantation.

The problem is that the movie ends there. How does the boy move on from his relationship with the cheetah? Does he get another pet that is meant to be domesticated? How can that pet ever hope to compare to the beauty, grace, speed of Duma, and how can the boy possibly love another animal? I love my cheetah, but I feel like I am at the edge of the savannah, watching him run and hunt and play and be happy, while I just watch. I don't feel the capacity to move away from the savannah, and I can't imagine what that cheetah will need from me now. It's a sad realization for me, that I know he needed me to get him to this point, to help him realize his potential, but I don't see how I fit into the wild now.

I'm probably going to take a break from posting here for awhile. It's Chris's blog, and it should be about him and his life, which is increasingly separated from mine. Maybe I'll take up residence on another blog, or maybe keep quiet for now (I'm a lot more introverted than Chris...). Thank you for listening and responding. Have fun with my cheetah.

Keri

What about the women?

2006-08-07T12:02:00.000-04:00

I've posted two recent articles that focus on gay married men. Here's a story about Emily Pearson, daughter of Carol Lynn Pearson and a woman who has emerged from a mixed orientation marriage of her own.

Salt Lake Tribune: A daughter steps into the light

Emily's website for women currently or formerly married to gay men is We Are Wildflowers.

Salt Lake Tribune on Gay Married Men

2006-08-04T14:26:00.000-04:00

From today's online version of the Salt Lake Tribune:

Gay, Mormon, married

New York Times on Gay Married Men

2006-08-03T14:20:00.000-04:00

From today's New York Times:

A Beard Too Painful to Remove

Regret

2006-08-03T14:15:00.000-04:00

I have only a few regrets in my life. I regret that I voted for George W. Bush in the 2000 presidential election. Seriously. I regret that I didn't attend the funeral of a friend's mother when she passed away a few years ago. She was a second mother to me and I've kicked myself a few times for not flying to Utah from New York to pay my final respects and say goodbye.

And I regret that I did not tell KK sooner that I am gay.

Here's what that does NOT mean. It does not mean that I regret the life that I have lived with her. It does not mean that I regret having children with her. I have no regrets about the life I chose then or the life I am choosing now. But I do regret that I didn't have the courage to let her in sooner and share with her what I was struggling to understand.

Ideally, I would have told her before we got married. I loved her. She was the only woman I had ever fallen in love with, the only woman I was ever able to have a physical relationship with. So I wish I had done her the service of putting more trust in her. She gave me a few opportunities to do just that. She shared some very personal things about herself before we got married that she felt I should know. I remember thinking then, "Should I tell her?" But I couldn't. I really couldn't. And the closer I got to her the more convinced I became that I really wasn't gay. But still, I regret that I didn't say anything.

I also regret that I didn't tell her at some point sooner in the ten years of our marriage. Again, that regret arises not from a sense of guilt or because I wish I had lived a different life, but because I didn't trust her--the person to whom I was closest--with my most painful struggle. I shared everything else with her, but not that.

KK has pointed out to me that, with hindsight, it's easy to regret not telling her. It's easy because I know now how she reacted--lovingly, compassionately, empathetically. None of those things surprised me then or now, because Keri is loving, compassionate and empathetic. Her greatest happiness comes from seeing the people around her do well. And I have to admit that perhaps she is right, at least partly. I can look at how she handled this and say, "Ugh! Why didn't I tell her sooner!" But it goes deeper than that. I feel sometimes as thought I dishonored Keri by not telling her sooner and by not trusting what I knew about her character. I dishonored her by not empowering her sooner. That is my true regret. I regret that I didn't give her the choice of marrying a gay man, even recognizing that knowing something is not the same as understanding what it means--and I don't think either one of us would have understood what undertaking a mixed orientation marriage would entail. So even as I move past my shame of being gay and my guilt about divorce, I think I will always regret that I denied KK the power of choice.

Survey

2006-08-01T11:42:00.000-04:00

How many of the gay married men out there were products of a divorced home? I'm wondering because one of the reasons Chris had such a hard time accepting himself as gay, even though he didn't come from any kind of conservative or religious home, but had totally liberal parents, was that he was determined to have a better family than the one he came from, and didn't see how he could do this as gay. He felt like the divorce of his parents put pressure on him to form a perfect family. I've noticed that several other of you gay married bloggers also came from divorced parents. Is this a trend? Just wondering...

Up North

2006-07-16T09:06:00.000-04:00

Thursday night I left my daughters with my mother in Appleton, Wisconsin, got in my rental car, and drove three hours north to my dad's house on Vandercook Lake in the woods of northern Wisconsin. The locals refer to this part of the state as, simply, Up North.

Up North has special meaning for me. I've spent part of nearly every summer of my life here. For many years, my dad had a small piece of land with nothing built on it on Broken Bow Lake, several miles east of here. When I was a kid we would camp there. I would fish with my dad every day, swim in the lake, catch turtles and frogs, play in the woods, and sit by the campfire each night. I lived in Salt Lake City with my mother for most of my growing up years and saw my dad only during the summer and on holidays. I cherish the memories of the time I spent with him at Broken Bow. Even in my teenage years, when I often did not want to spend an entire summer away from my friends in Utah, I enjoyed the time I spent fishing with my dad Up North.

A few years ago, he bought a house on Vandercook Lake and the Up North tradition has continued uninterrupted. I still come to northern Wisconsin each summer, now with my family. This part of the world is a touchstone for me. A place where I can renew myself and share the experience of being here among the lakes and the trees and the wildlife with my family. It is a place where I can strengthen the father-child bond with my dad and with my own daughters. I wrote about an experience I had with my dad out on the lake on my old blog. I go back to it and read it every once in awhile, especially when I am feeling the need to connect with my dad or to remember what a summer night on the lake can feel like. This is sacred ground.

I am here for a few days, on this sacred ground, by myself. This is the first time I have ever been alone in northern Wisconsin. A year ago when I was here, I was in full crisis mode. I could feel my grip on my life slipping and my relationship with Keri deteriorating. Now, I am here to rest and renew myself after the most difficult 12-month period of my life. It has been quiet. It has been energizing. It has been relaxing. It has been what I hoped it would be. The promise of Up North has been fulfilled yet again.

It has also been difficult to be here without Keri. I have never been on vacation to this house without her. Next week, I will go back to Appleton, retrieve the girls and bring them here. We will do what we always do when we come--we will fish, we will swim, we will make a campfire and roast marshmallows and make smores. But we will do this all without our Mommy here with us. And I would be lying if I said that it doesn't make me sad to be here without her. She had become a part of the touchstone experience for me. And it is hard to imagine spending time with my kids in this very special place without her. But that is what we will do next week.

When I came out to Keri on September 17, 2005, our lives changed for ever. Since then, almost no part of my life or hers has been untouched by change. Most of the time, I think that's just good. We needed things to change. I needed things to change. As I wrote in my last blog, I think we are and will be better off. But that doesn't mean that I don't mourn the loss of the life I had. It doesn't mean that I don't miss some of the things we did together as a family--like come "Up North" to Vandercook Lake.

Better Off

2006-07-14T19:55:00.000-04:00

Restored Vows (a married man who says that he "struggles with same-sex attractions") posted this comment a few days ago on HURRICANE:

If you want to get divorced and lead a gay lifestyle, go for it. But you need to think through to the outcome of your decision. I'll leave you with a modified version of what President Reagan said in 1984: "Are you better off (gay and divorced) than you were (married)?

Better off. It seems like that ought to be fairly easy to figure out, right? But what does it mean? Better off.

I have considered this at length, and I think I will be better off gay and divorced than married. (And really, Restored Vows should have left "gay" out of it. I can stay married. I can get divorced. I can't change being gay.) Here's why...

KK and I had eight or nine really great years together. The last bit of our marriage before I came out was not a happy time for either one of us. Most people we know didn't see that. Really, in some ways we didn't see it either. But I was deeply unhappy and unsatisfied with my life. From about the time my younger daughter was born, I developed a death wish. I wasn't suicidal in that I wasn't planning my own death. But I was hoping for it. I imagined a plane crash on a business trip. Getting pushed in front of an oncoming subway car. A heart attack. Cancer. I was deeply unhealthy. I was overweight and out of shape. I had acid reflux disease that I hoped would become something much more serious.

I wanted out of my life. I figured it would be better if I were to go to my grave at an early age with my secret still mine than shame my family with my homosexuality. I figured my children would be better off with a dead father than a gay one. I knew KK would be better off with a dead husband than a gay one.

Better off. Better off dead.

Surely, part of my emotional pain came from keeping a deep, dark secret from the people I loved the most--especially KK. It could be argued that once I came out to her, I should have been able to press forward together with her. We could share the burden. We could make it work, despite our mixed orientations. Many couples try to do this, and some find a measure of success. We could be like them.

KK wanted this, at least on some level. She wanted the security and love that a husband would provide her. And she loved me. And to this day, I feel sorrow for the pain that this has caused her. I love her. She is my closest friend. But once I came out to her, I found myself driven to feel self acceptance and happiness about being gay. I didn't want it to be a cross I had to bear. I didn't want it to be a challenge we would struggle through together. With her love and encouragement, I began to embrace my gay self, and that set me on a path that leads out of the marriage.

I'm 34. KK is 33. There is a lot of life left ahead for both of us. She has gotten a grip on her depression and begun the process of realizing professional ambitions she didn't know she harbored. I am openly and happily gay. I'm meeting new people and feeling no shame for this simple fact of who I am.

Better off? I think so. There is pain in the short term, and there will be challenges in both the short and long term. But this is the best chance for both of us to find lasting happiness. And that's better off.

American Life

2006-07-03T16:31:00.000-04:00

I know it's Madonna, but I identify with this song. Plus, I'm a gay man and it is Madonna, so what do you expect?!

American Life

Do I have to change my name?
Will it get me far?
Should I lose some weight?
Am I gonna be a star?

I tried to be a boy,
I tried to be a girl
I tried to be a mess,
I tried to be the best
I guess I did it wrong,
That's why I wrote this song

This type of modern life.. is it for me?
This type of modern life... is it for free?
So, I went into a bar looking for sympathy
A little company
I tried to find a friend
It's more easily said it's always been the same
This type of modern life.. is not for me?
This type of modern life... is not for free?

American life
I live the American dream
You are the best thing I've seen,
You are not just a dream

I tried to stay ahead,
I tried to stay on top
I tried to play the part,
But somehow I forgot
Just what I did it for
And why I wanted more

This type of modern life... is it for me?
This type of modern life... is it for free?

Do I have to change my name?
Will it get me far?
Should I lose some weight?
Am I gonna be a star?

American life
I live the American dream
You are the best thing I've seen,
You are not just a dream

I tried to be a boy,
I tried to be a girl
I tried to be a mess,
I tried to be the best
I tried to find a friend,
I tried to stay ahead
I tried to stay on top...

Do I have to change my name?
Will it get me far?
Should I lose some weight?
Am I gonna be a star?

I'm drinking a Soy latte
I get a double shoty
It goes right through my body
And you know
I'm satisfied,

I drive my mini cooper
And I'm feeling super-dooper
Yo they tell I'm a trooper
And you know I'm satisfied

I do yoga and pilates
And the room is full of hotties
So I'm checking out the bodies
And you know I'm satisfied

I'm digging on the isotopes
This metaphysic's shit is dope
And if all this can give me hope
You know I'm satisfied

I got a lawyer and a manager
An agent and a chef
Three nannies, an assistant
And a driver and a jet
A trainer and a butler
And a bodyguard or five
A gardener and a stylist
Do you think I'm satisfied?

I'd like to express my extreme point of view
I'm not Christian and I'm not a Jew
I'm just living out the American dream
And I just realized that nothing is what it seems
_________

Happy Independence Day.

Change

2006-06-23T14:17:00.000-04:00

Recently, an anonymous reader left this comment on another thread:

I am perplexed by the tenor of the blogger's comments re his account of informing his wife that he is homosexual. He seems to suggest that he has started on a path that irrevocably leads him away from any notion of a hetersexual lifestyle. Therapist Floyd Godfrey of Mesa, AZ and Evergreen have successfully counseled many a struggler to understand the genesis of his homosexual feelings, address the relevant factors and revive his heterosexual feelings. If that is the path that Hurricane wants to explore, he should vigorously investigate. Signed, a fellow struggler.

Other gay Mormon bloggers have spent far more time on the question of changing one's sexual orientation from homosexual to heterosexual than I have. The reason for this is pretty simple: I don't believe it's possible.

Our anonymous friend here suggests that the work of Evergreen International and a therapist in Arizona have helped many understand their homosexuality and begin to change it or, at least, cultivate some heterosexual feeling. Though I myself have never been through reparative therapy, I know many who have, and I am familiar with the work of Joseph Nicolosi and NARTH, and I assume the aforementioned Arizona therapist subscribes to the same essential theories about male homosexuality and its origins.

The biggest issue I have with the approach of Evergreen, Nicolosi, NARTH and the broader "ex-gay" movement is that their theories about the origins of homosexuality have never resonated with me. Nicolosi points to an overbearing mother, an absent or distant father and the resulting early eroticization of male relationships. He describes how this precludes some men from forming close non-sexual relationships with other men; all of the male relationships become sexualized. Moroever, Nicolosi, et al, theorize that such men are uncomfortable in the world of men--they are more effeminate and sensitive; they are more artistic and less athletic. In other words, they are more stereotypically gay.

I am not stereotypically gay. I have, over the years, had close relationships with heterosexual men that I felt very comfortable with. I don't paint, sing, dance or act. I played sports willingly in my youth and on most days can tell you the score from last night's Red Sox game. Though my parents were divorced and my family dysfunctional on many levels, my mother was not particularly overbearing. I am not effeminate. (But I will plead guilty to being sensitive.)

It also seems to me that many of the things that those in the Nicolosi camp describe as the social and environmental causes of homosexuality are in fact the effects of a biologically-determined sexuality and the social distress that results from it. Do young boys who are alienated from their fathers become gay because of that? Or are they alientated from their fathers because they are gay and different from other "normal" boys? The latter is a more plausible explanation for me.

The general lack of success that reparative therapy has in changing one's sexual orientation from homosexual to heterosexual cannot be overlooked. All discussions of politics in science and political correctness aside, there is just no solid evidence that it happens in anything but the rarest of circumstances--and even then, definitions cloud the picture enough for me to be skeptical. The many men I know who have been through such therapy are as gay now as the day they began any systematic and therapeutic efforts to change. That's not to say that such men are not out there. They may well be. I, however, have never met one. Moreover, many of the men I do know who have been through reparative or change therapy come out of it feeling damaged. (Though, to be fair, many have also described the experience of bonding with other men like them and of learning how to be more comfortable in the "world of men," as healing. Still gay though.)

And, finally, after all these years, I simply don't want to pursue reparative or change therapy because I don't want to change. I hated myself for being gay for so long. I desperately wanted to change for many years. Not anymore. I'm comfortable with myself. I accept that I am gay and always will be (and always was). More than accept it. I am happy that I am gay. I feel complete now in a way that I never did when I was in the closet and struggling against my sexual orientation. I am more myself than I ever have been, and I think that is overwhelmingly a good thing--for me and the people I love.

I can understand why the anonymous commenter is perplexed by the tenor of my comments on this blog if he still believes that his own homosexuality is something to be overcome. But I don't look at it that way. It's not something to be overcome. It's something to be accepted and embraced.

Calm

2006-06-20T14:55:00.000-04:00

It's been a quiet week on HURRICANE. KK and I have both been pondering some new posts for the blog, but we've also been busy and otherwise emotionally occupied. One or both of us will have some new thoughts up soon.

sharq's suggestions

2006-06-13T09:26:00.000-04:00

A HURRICANE reader who goes by the name sharq left a very thoughtful and intensely practical comment on the thread "Choices, Part II" in response to my question about what I should do. In fact, that post elicited a number of comments that I think I will repond to in new posts over the next couple of days. But I will start with sharq.

First, sharq, though I don't know you, I feel confident in saying after this brief interaction that I'd like to know you. You seem to be a person of compassion and commitment. A long lost friend of mine wrote recently to say that good friends are hard to find, so we have to hang on to them when we do. He's right. I imagine that you are a good friend to many.

Second, I want to thank you for reminding me of some of the things I love about the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I hadn't forgotten those things, but the focus of discussion in recent weeks has not been on the things I love. I'm glad you brought them back.

Third, you have done what I hoped someone would do. You have given me things to consider that I hadn't previously. I value that.

Let me address each of your suggestions.

1. Don't remove your names from the records of the church. It will make things easier for your family members and friends, and you can still choose to consider yourself "Mormon" with whatever definition you want to give that term.

I have pondered the status of my church membership over the past couple of months and have felt unsettled. I appreciate your perspective here, particuarly as to the impact on family and friends.

2. If you follow #1, there will be some ramifications you'll have to accept. Accept home teachers. Let active members of the church into your home, and both you and they will be blessed. Most likely, they will bend over backwards to be non-offensive, but in the event somebody starts in on the condemnation track, you can cut them off and let them know it's not appreciated. Sure, it would be awkward, but I think those odds are slim and you will benefit far more than you stand to lose.

We have had active members of the Church into our home on numerous occasions over the past several months. We have not had home teachers. Honestly, I can't imagine that having them over would be beneficial for any involved at this point, but I'm willing to keep the door unlocked.

3. Occasionally accept invitations to attend church functions. My ward recently made a serious effort to invite a gay member and his partner to the annual high priests' barbecue, and we were thrilled when they showed up. They seemed to enjoy themselves as well. If it seems like these sorts of things would be too painful, you've got to make the call, but I think eventually you'd be able to enjoy something like that.

In time, this might be something I could do. KK would have to decide for herself.

4. Chris, when you find a partner, expose him to the positive aspects of the church. You'd probably have to do this no matter what, or else he'd never understand you. Have the missionaries teach him the lessons (clueing them in to the situation beforehand). Take him to church at least once, and introduce yourselves to the bishop. He'll certainly have to understand the negatives as well, in order to fathom what you've gone through. But never deny that the Church influenced you in a number of positive ways, and don't be shy about owning up to that.

Wow. If I end up with another Mormon, I can skip some of this. If I don't, I'm not so sure about the missionary discussions. That said, the essence of this suggestion--that I share the positives of my church experience with a future partner--is something I absolutely can and will do.

5. KK, when you remarry, see #4.

KK gets to respond to this one on her own.

6. Live within walking distance of each other. That may be quite a challenge, but there is nothing to compare with being able to visit your mom or dad whenever you want, unfettered by custody schedules, distance, etc. Divorce brings real negative consequences for kids, and it's your duty as parents to ameliorate those as much as possible.

This suggestion brought tears to my eyes, and is something that we've already talked about at length. I have every intention of staying close to my family (and that includes KK) and we have talked about me finding a place very near to the house--something walkable.

I am a child of divorce, and one of the things I have lamented about my experience is that my parents were never close to each other. Not emotionally and not geographically. I never could approach my parents as a unit--a "Mom and Dad." I had to deal with Mom, and then I had to deal with Dad. It sucked. Keri and I want our children to know that they still have a "Mom and Dad" that they can look to and that will be guiding them along and cheering them on. Future partners for each of us could complicate things, to be sure. But if you've learned nothing about us from reading this blog, I hope you've learned that we've come to embrace life's complexities.

So thank you especially for this suggestion.

7. Accept that by retaining a connection to the Church, people will occasionally set out to reclaim you. Be patient with these folks. Virtually all of them have the best of intentions. Don't worry about giving them false hope or leading them on--if you are upfront with them about your situation you will be fine. You may win some friends, open some minds, and feel the true love of Christ.

I love too many Mormons to not keep some connection to the church, so I think this is very good advice regardless of how involved I/we might be with the actual ward we live in.

8. Likewise, never worry that you're somehow mooching off the church by accepting the benefits of membership without actively contributing. You've done your time. Let the home teachers move your piano up the stairs. Go to the high priests' barbecue. Read those tear-jerking stories in the back of the Ensign about people who feel the hand of God blessing and protecting them, and allow your tears to be jerked. Anybody who is allowed to serve you in any capacity will enjoy the blessings of God, and your sincere thanks will mean the world to them.

I have to confess to you that with the exception of my mission I've never been a faithful Ensign reader, but for the First Presidency message when I was home teaching (which I did with irregularity) and a bishop. But I will keep my subscription to Sunstone current. Does that count?

9. Find your own ways to serve. If you're not actively involved in the Church, you need to find a way to get outside yourself and make a contribution. Volunteer at your kids' school. Tutor an immigrant. Better yet, ask your home teachers if they need any help, and give them a hand with their piano. I imagine that if you think back on your best experiences in the Church (especially as bishop), you'll see that nothing is quite as rewarding as service. If will keep you spiritually healthy.

Here you have brought forward one of the things I loved the most--and now miss the most--about the LDS Church. KK and I are each wading into new communities. As a family, we have waded into a new faith community. As individuals, we are entering new communities as well. It will take some time for us to find our places in these new communities, but I think I can speak for KK when I say that we are both actively looking for opportunities to serve.

10. Allow your kids to be Mormon if they want to. I bet they love Primary, and they'll probably be invited to attends all sorts of events during their growing-up years. They may get exposed to some anti-gay rhetoric that will be hurtful, but you'll be in the best position to defuse those sorts of crises. Be willing have friends take them to church, and be willing to drop them off when a ride falls through. Attend their baptisms (if they get to that point), and show up when they're going to give a talk or a musical number in sacrament meeting. With any luck, somebody will recognize you from the barbecue and you'll have a pleasant chat before the meeting starts.

This one is harder. My children will, no doubt, be exposed to anti-gay rhetoric as they grow up. My oldest daughter, E, is already a champion of sorts of gay rights, so I don't have a lot of concern that they won't be able to handle that. Of course, I wish they didn't have to confront pain and unpleasantness, but having a gay dad is their reality. People will be unkind. So KK and I have no intention of regularly putting them in an environment where they not only might hear such rhetoric but where the things they would be taught about homosexuality run counter to what we believe.

That said, my children are the great-great-great-grandaughters of a Church president. They have ancestors who crossed the plains to get to the Great Salt Lake Valley. I want them to be proud of their pioneer heritage. I want them to know their own Mormon history. We will teach it to them. Their grandparents and aunts and uncles will teach it to them. If, in time, they decide on their own that they want to be Mormons, I will honor their choice. But it will have to be something they come to on their own, born of their own desire. They will have to become Mormons much as I became a Mormon if they decide that is what they want.

Well, that's a lot of advice from a perfect stranger, but you can't say it's unsolicited advice. It comes from a faithful, heterosexual Mormon who will never have to stand in your shoes, so you're certainly within your rights to disregard it entirely. But it also comes from somebody who has stood on countless doorsteps with a membership record in hand, looking to determine whether a new move-in will or will not accept visits. I am always thrilled when the response is positive, and the person is willing to interact with the Church on his or her own terms.

This touched me. I've been that Mormon, too, standing on a doorstep or stoop, looking for the lost. When I was bishop, we tried our best to track people down and hear their stories so we would know, and so we could take care of them--even if that meant simply honoring their wishes to remain unengaged. This is the best part of the Church. It's not dogma or doctrine. It's just good faithful people looking after one another--and the others who struggle with faith or commitment or testimony. This is the Church I loved and still love.

sharq, thank you again for your kind words of advice.

Gratitude

2006-06-10T16:40:00.000-04:00

I was talking with someone yesterday about the difference between understanding and compassion. As we've come out to more and more people, a select few seem to have both understanding about why we've made the choices we have, and compassion for how difficult our road has been and the struggle we've been through. Some react with understanding, but not really compassion: "So, you're gay. I get it. Move on." But some of the most touching reactions have been from our Mormon friends and family who don't really understand, and have sadness for our divorce and our leaving the church, but are able to express an incredible amount of compassion anyway.

It's easy to have compassion for someone who is in a difficult situation that you've been in before, or that you can easily relate to-- rejection while dating, losing a job, becoming ill, etc. It's also relatively easy to have compassion for someone who experiences a loss that you can't imagine, but is common within human experience, such as the death of a child or spouse.

It's one of the hardest things in this life to have real compassion for those you don't understand, and I wanted to thank all of you who have expressed that for us. I have felt so much love over the past few weeks, and though I feel the need to explain my choices so that you might gain greater understanding, I did not want it to go unsaid that I am incredibly grateful for the outpouring of love we've received. I am proud to have surrounded myself with such a generous group of people, and know that I can expect to receive love and support from you in the future, no matter what.

Choices, Part II

2006-06-09T14:25:00.000-04:00

In the previous post, KK described the journey that has led her to make the choices she has made over the past year of her life. I've written about my own journey of choices in several places on HURRICANE, and I'd like to return to it now.

Yesterday I had lunch with someone I consider a dear friend and one of the very best Mormons I know. He is kind, caring, compassionate, and tolerant. He is faithful, but not dogmatic. As we have talked about difficult issues over the years, I have always felt that he has carefully examined all sides. He seeks understanding for its own sake. He acknowledges that sometimes there are gaps in our understanding or that teaching and reality don't always seem to line up as nicely as we would like.

So it was no surprise to me when he told me yesterday that though he is sad to see me leave the Church and thinks that it is in a very real way the wrong thing for me to do, he also understands as well as he thinks a faithful straight Mormon guy can why I have made the decision to no longer associate with the Church. He then told me that what has been really hard about my coming out is not that I'm gay (which he seems genuinely okay with), or even that KK and I are spliltting up (though he seems less okay with that), but that I have decided to leave the Church.

This puzzles me.

I have heard this from others in comments here on the blog. I have heard it in e-mails from friends and family ("I hope that in time you will return to the fullness of the gospel.") . I have heard it in phone calls ("I know that you have a testimony that the Church is true and I hope you'll return to it one day."). Anonymous Jerk and others have been pointed in telling me that I have broken my covenants and that the path I am on now leads only to unhappiness. "I hope you find what you are looking for, " I hear. "But you won't," seems to be the unspoken conclusion from many.

On one level, I understand this. These are expressions of faith and testimony offered in love and conviction. These comments come from people that I know genuinely believe that the best--and often only--path to true happiness is found within the teachings of the LDS Church, which includes marriage and commitment to covenants.

But mostly I'm puzzled.

To those who think the choices I am making now are wrong and lead nowhere but unhappiness, I ask this, in all sincerity: What should I do?

Each time I ask this question, I get no answer. I'm told what I shouldn't do, but no one seems willing or able to tell me what I should do.

First, marriage. I don't know how KK and I could stay married. We had reached a very unhappy place in our marriage before I came out. And while coming out opened up new (and old) lines of communication between us that restored much of our relationship, I came to realize that I could never feel as though I was free of the self loathing I felt for so long unless I was able to live a gay life (life--not lifestyle). What could we go back to?

I know other mixed orientation couples that are trying to make it work. Those I know most intimately have had tremendous challenges and I think the jury is still very much out on whether or not they can--or even should--continue to try to make it work. I'm acquainted with other gay married Mormon men here in the gay bloggernacle, some of whom seem to be having greater success. Yet even there, there seems to be so much angst.

The research KK and I have done into mixed orientation marriages suggests that most of those that last do so because a) their is openness in the marriage and b) the gay spouse at some point is permitted to pursue same-sex relationships on the side. Are there exceptions here? Absolutely. Is this the life I want? Absolutely not. Is it the life KK wants? Absolutely not.

Next, faith and testimony. I simply don't know how to stay in the Church. The underlying assumption in LDS thinking about homosexuality is that it is aberrant and wrong and must never be acted on. Could I live life as a celibate gay LDS man? No, I don't think I could. And it's not because of the sex. It's because it would require me to think of myself as somehow defective (even if it's not my fault). I feel as though I could only stay Mormon if were willing to accept that my homosexuality is a pathology, akin to alcoholism, compulsive gambling or some other affliction that draws one into sinful behavior. Plus, my faith shattered last year. And as I have put it back together, it is something new, something more symbolic and metaphoric and less literal. Something not quite Mormon anymore.

I've been accused of constructing a new belief system to justify my new identity and (again, largely unspoken, but implied) my sinful behavior. Why then do I feel a sense of integrity I've never had before? Why do I feel fundamentally honest in a way that I never have before? Why do I feel God's love in a way that I never have before? How can what I feel now fit with what the Church teaches and expects of me?

Someone take up the challenge here, because I really want to know. If you think what I am doing is wrong and will lead only to sadness, offer me something better. Share a possibility I haven't considered. Tell me how you think I can be happy (and gay--because that's not going to change).

Let's bring this back to choice. I have choices. Being gay isn't one of them, but what I do with it certainly is. I am making what I believe to be the best choices I can for myself and my family. Are there better choices here?

I await your responses.

Choices

2006-06-08T10:12:00.000-04:00

I began to make a comment on one of the other threads about this, but decided it was better for a new post. Now that we've experienced all kinds of reactions to our news, and have let it settle with people for a few weeks, I have begun to sort the responses in my mind. Many of our Mormon friends and family fall into the same category-- love us, but don't love the choices we're making. Very sad for the loss of our family, but not optimistic that we can make a good future for ourselves. I've expected these kinds of reactions, because there is a measure of sadness, and I know that not everyone is going to understand why we do the things we do. I don't understand why anyone else does the things they do, either, so it's only fair.

What I want to say is this: Chris and I are each doing the very best we can to salvage the love and family that we want to continue to share. We are doing the best we can to remain close to God and to our Savior. We are doing the best we can to give our girls a spiritual and open environment where they can feel free to explore their own beliefs as they get older, but where we make it clear to them what we believe.

A lot of people have said that they've seen this situation before, and that it never ends well, never results in happiness for either of the parties. While Chris has already pointed out that we do know a few couples who have made it work pretty well, I agree that when a husband comes out of the closet, it rarely translates into a positive thing for the family.

I would venture a guess that because this situation is so personal to me, I have done more reading and research on this topic than most of you. From that reading, I've gained a bit of perspective as to why this is so. First, many husbands who have come out do so only when either their adulterous homosexual activities are exposed, or when the guilt stemming from those activities is so overwhelming they cannot take it anymore and have to confess. Many husbands struggle with their homosexuality alone and rather than include their wives as helpmates in this struggle, try to "get it out of their system" by exploring anonymous sexual encounters, or even real relationships with men unbeknownst to their wives. Beginning the conversation with "I'm gay, and here's what I've been doing about it" is not the best way to explore healthy dialogue regarding the future of the relationship, and leaves many wives feeling so betrayed and angry that there is no hope of a family.

Chris did not choose this path. He chose to begin the conversation by saying, "I'm gay, and I don't know what to do about it, but I want you to be a part of whatever comes next." He chose to remain faithful to the marriage vows he took until he is released from those vows. He chose to talk rather than act. He trusted me enough to know that I would be a partner in finding a way for our family to find the most happiness.

Second, even when there has been no infidelity, but especially when there has, many wives react to their husbands' news with disgust and horror. Many choose to cut off contact, to start their lives over and forget they were ever married to a gay man. Sadly, this sometimes includes cutting their children's father out of their lives as well. This can't be the way a family finds happiness.

I was blessed to have an immediate empathy for Chris, and during our first long night of discussion after he came out to me, I gained an understanding of homosexuality that I can only attribute to God. I believe He allowed me to ask the questions I needed to, and enlightened my mind with true empathy. This wasn't sympathy, as in, "This must have been so hard for you, tell me all about it, I'm sorry you had to do this alone, I'm your friend, I'm here for you." This was a completely real feeling of BEING Chris, of looking back on his life and heartache and actually feeling it as if I had been in his soul with him. I saw things from his point of view, I cried as if I had been the one traumatized by my self-hatred and fear of judgement. It was only one of many miracles given to me that have enabled me to not just "get through" the last nine months, but to grow from it and have a restored faith and hope in the future.

I did not walk away from the church lightly. I did not follow Chris out without considering my beliefs for myself. The first week after the coming out, I had such spiritual experiences that my testimony of God as my true Father was undeniably strengthened, and I felt Him holding me and comforting me in a way that I had never understood before. I knew He was there, and since the only way I had come to know Him was in the Mormon church, I wanted to find a way to make it work for me. In another post, I'll talk more about my spiritual experiences and my rebuilding of my faith. For now I will simply say that I asked in earnest of God how I could reconcile my newfound knowledge of homosexuality and my unshakeable witness that everything Chris had shared with me about his experience was true, with the doctrine the church has given on the subject. They were completely at odds. This struggle took me to Elder Oaks's article (which Chris referred to in an earlier post) and to various church-sanctioned sites such as Evergreen International, and took me to my knees, and took me to my ward, and took me through long nights of discussion with Chris.

I know that many of you will perhaps be even more saddened by what I concluded. I know that many of you will believe, and some will say, that there is no way the Spirit of the True and Living God would ever lead someone away from the LDS church. I know that many of you will decide that it is an evil spirit that pursuaded me of this, or that Chris's influence on me was too strong and I couldn't stand on my own. Our beliefs differ here, friends, and only I know what I felt and the strength I have gained from the Spirit on this topic. I cannot explain it. I cannot tell you why I was blessed this way. But neither can I deny it.

So my choice was not simply to follow Chris, but to follow God. My choice was to turn my path over to Him and allow Him to guide me, cautious step by cautious step, along the high wire that has been my life over the past year. My choice is to pursue the happiness that He has in store for me, in the only way I know how right now.

Matthew 7: 18-22:

A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither can a corrupt tree bring
forth good fruit

Every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn
down, and cast into the fire.

Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know
them.

Some of you may not see the good fruit that has come for us in the past year. Some of you may view our decision to leave the church as proof of evil fruit from a corrupt tree. I respect that belief, and wish you the peace an happiness you are entitled to from searching out a path for yourself on which God will walk with you. From my viewpoint, every person this experience has touched, really touched, has been the better for it, and those are the fruits I see. Is it easy? No. Will it be easy in the future? No. But I believe Elder Monson once said, "That which is easy is rarely right." (Sorry, can't find the exact reference right now...) I am following the path I believe is right, but not easy, not by a long shot. So when you say to me that we're in for a rough time, or that the way will be hard for us, or that we have no easy choices, I say you're right. I embrace the roughness. It will polish me. I embrace the choices I am making, because I am making them with God.

A Wife by Any Other Name...

2006-06-06T21:56:00.000-04:00

I am flattered that Hurricane agreed to let me introduce him to all of you, and remove this last vestige of anonymity in our journey. We have had an interesting couple of weeks since we sent an e-mail to our friends and family and on balance, feel stronger and more sure of our decisions and path than ever. I am eager to begin posting here, and elsewhere, as my true self, with no question of cowardice. I am proud of the way I have handled this situation, I am proud of my loved ones who have been touched by our story and are interested in helping us instead of judging us. Most of all, I am proud of my one-time husband and best friend, Chris Williams.

Rather than bore you with biographical details, I will make this short and simply tell you that Chris is one of the most honest, trustworthy, caring, talented, intelligent, articulate individuals I have ever had the privilege of knowing.

Our friendship began over twelve years ago, after we had been acquaintences and "ran in the same circle" for a few years. He had been on a mission, where we had exchanged a few brief mailed words, and we were both attending the University of Utah. One snowy January day in 1994, my family experienced the tragic loss of my two-year-old cousin to congestive heart failure. I had spent many hours with this precious little girl over the course of her short life, and with her parents and siblings, on the roller coaster that only those with a terminal illness can appreciate. On the morning she finally died, I saw her in her father's arms and was distraught. I had, of course, classes scheduled and although I didn't feel like going, something compelled me to campus. Instead of sitting in my class, I simply took my usual path from one building to the next, where I often ran into someone I knew. I thought I would feel better if I could just tell someone what had just happened. Chris was one of the first people I saw, and though he was with a couple of other friends with whom I had a closer relationship, he didn't hesitate to hug me tight and express his sorrow at my loss. From that moment, I knew he was someone I would connect with, and we began to hang out together all the time.

We have recently been able to return to that friendship, but on a deeper and more meaningful level as our relationship was enriched by the ten years we spent as a married couple. Chris and I are committed not only to our children, to our collective future, and to our household as a loving and spiritual home, but to each other as important partners on the journey of life. I have been struggling over the past few months to come up with something we can call each other, something that means not spouse, since we are no longer that, but more than friend, since that is thrown about so casually. We simply cannot invoke the term "ex," as it sounds so bitter... We need a word that conveys the importance of our relationship, the nature of our partnership, while still leaving room for potential spouses for each of us in the future. Chris has taken to calling me "WINO" (Wife In Name Only), but obviously, I think we can do better.

The recent hub-bub over the book and film The Da Vinci Code has thrown the relationship between Jesus and Mary Magdalene into speculation. I don't mean to digress, and I won't, except that some of the confusion seems to stem from a word used to describe Mary Magdalene as Jesus's "companion" in the gospel of St. Phillip. Some have commented that since in Jesus's tongue of Aramaic, the words "companion" and "spouse" are the same, that they must have been married. Some have pointed out that this particular gospel was written in Coptic or Greek, and the word used to describe her was koinonos, which means "religious partner," "friend," or "companion," but NOT spouse. Perhaps we can start using this term, but it doesn't roll off the tongue that easily.

So I don't know what to call myself, and I don't know how to convey to others in simple terms what our relationship means to each of us. Perhaps there will never be a concise way to describe it. I will tell you that I am not the wife or ex-wife of Chris Williams, nor just his friend, but myself, Keri-Kathryn (Fowles) Williams. I can't think of any other name I'd rather have.

It is rather long, however, so on this blog I will be known as "KK." I don't know if Chris plans to continue posting under the name "Hurricane," or if he'll adopt a username closer to his own now that we have no secrets. I invite anyone who wants to post here to be as courageous as we have been, and let us know who you are and if you are personally acquainted with us. Friends, come out of the closet.

Response to Bishop J

2006-06-04T01:48:00.000-04:00

A good friend of mine who goes by the name greenfrog here in cyberspace has posted a response to Bishop J's letter to me, which I posted last week.

An explanation--and a testimony

2006-05-27T21:36:00.000-04:00

A friend of mine who also knew me as his bishop told me yesterday that the hurt that people are feeling with my news stems from the fact that I seem to have abruptly abandoned my testimony. Just a little more than a year ago I was a bishop. Today, I no longer consider myself a Mormon. How is it possible for this to all happen overnight?

The answer is that it has, in fact, been a long time coming.

Faith and doubt co-existed in my mind for many years. When I came home from my mission, I went into a brief period of inactivity. It didn't last long, but I was able to come out of it in part because I discovered the world of Sunstone and Dialogue and connected to other Mormons who were willing to acknowledge their doubts and difficulties, but who were also able to stay commited and faithful to the Church. That's what I wanted, and that's what I was ultimately able to do.

The absence of big conversion moment didn't really bother me. I knew other people who also had never had that big moment. And I had had smaller moments that seemed to confirm for me the path that I was on. I felt God speak to me when my relationship with K turned romantic. I felt the Lord work through me when I was young men's president in Chicago. And K and I both felt drawn to Brooklyn after graduate school, and we quickly became deeply involved in church service when we moved there.

Indeed, one year after we arrived, I was called as bishop. And I know as much as I know anything that my call to serve as bishop came from God. I knew it was going to happen five weeks before I was asked to meet with the stake president. The Lord told me it was going to happen. He told me to prepare.

I needed that calling. It was an affirmation to me that I was loved of God. When the call came I was certain that my homosexuality was no longer an issue. There was nothing that I needed to repent of, and K and I had started our family and felt content with life. I was still aware of my attraction to men at that point--I certainly noticed attractive men wherever I went--but it seemed managable and being gay just didn't fit with the life I was building for myself.

I cherished my experience as bishop. I felt like I was able to help a lot of people, and that, in turn, helped me to stay focused on the things that seemed to matter most. I was able to set aside my "issues," which ranged from my struggles with my sexuality to various questions in Mormon history to doubts about the historicity of the Book of Mormon. None of that seemed to matter when I was actively engaged in service, and I was inspired by the study that being a good bishop demanded.

And still, I wasn't well. I blamed other things for my struggles--issues from my childhood and with my parents, job troubles, even sleep deprivation (by 2002, I had two small children). But really, I felt like I was living a lie each day--that by simply not acknowledging my struggles with identity and sexuality, I was living a life that was utterly lacking in integrity. It wore on me.

As the day of my release as bishop came last year, I was filled with dread. I didn't know how I would be able to go on with the life I had built for myself. I felt my faith slipping and the doubts taking over. And the biggest doubt was the defining one--homosexuality. I just didn't believe what the Church was teaching about what it was and how to deal with it. And I didn't believe it because it didn't match with the reality of my own experience. It didn't match with my own intimate, personal truth. As I spiraled downward, the faith that I knew began to unravel very quickly. Once I accepted a truth about who I was that conflicted with what the Chruch taught, I began to question just about everything else that had troubled me over the years.

Coming out to K was a profoundly spiritual experience. We connected in a way that I can only describe as divine. The Lord allowed us to understand each other in a way that was truly miraculous. And I began to feel the presence of God in my life in a way that I hadn't before. I began to feel affirmed and loved as I was and not as I had tried and failed to make myself be.

A defining moment came for me when I went with K to a church service at a Protestant church here in our hometown in December. During the course of worship I was moved to tears several times. I can't even remember now what the pastor said that brought me to tears, but I remember very distinctly the sense of unconditional love I felt from God as I sat through the service. For the first time in my life I sat through a church worship service and didn't berate myself for my failings, particularly the "failing" of my sexuality. I felt the Spirit of God wash over me in a way that it rarely had in my life and I felt the Spirit whisper to me, simply, "I love you as you are."

That was a turning point for me. It essentially solidified my decision to leave the LDS Church, because I knew that I would never get to a place of acceptance about my sexuality and identity if I returned. In that moment, I felt that my life was a gift from God, not a cross to bear.

Bishop J took me to task for abandoning my testimony. I understand why he sees it that way, and why so many who have known me over the years have seen it that way. But that's not what happened. My faith changed. As I got to know myself better and accept the reality of my sexual orientation, I heard God speak to me in a new and different way.

To my Mormon friends: I honor and respect your faith. Many of you have written to me and told me that I helped stengthen your faith and testimony. That makes me happy. That was what I genuinely trying to do when I was a bishop and a believing Mormon. I'm sorry if the path I have chosen now has upset some that knew me before. I really, truly am. But K and I have tried to stay close to God through all of this, and we believe that he has guided us through this difficult year and continues to guide us now.

Pause

2006-05-26T01:36:00.000-04:00

I admit it. We were naive.

When K suggested that I include a link to my blog with the coming out/getting divorced e-mail we sent to family and friends earlier in the week, I thought it seemed like a good idea. It would allow us to share with these loved ones some of what we have been through over the past several months. I have also expressed to K and many of my friends that I don't want to cut myself off from my Mormon past, but I'd rather stay engaged and see how sharing my experiences as a gay Mormon could further understanding of gay issues in the Church. The blog seemed a good way to do that.

Instead, it seems that people are hurt. I apologize for any hurt I have caused. That has not been my intention.

And it turns out K and I are feeling hurt, too. I've been vilified as spiritually depraved, of weak character, and selfish. I've been mocked for sharing my coming out experiences. I've been accused of justifying my immoral choices and hedonistic "lifestyle" (which is interesting, since I still live with my children and K).

I have also been defended and honored.

It's been a little overwhelming, so I'm introducing some new ground rules for discussion.

Moderation has been turned on. I will not moderate for viewpoint. If you want to criticize as Bishop J did, that's fine. I'll pass it through moderation and we'll get it posted. Anonymous comments, however, will not be posted. Abusive and hateful comments will not be posted. If you know me and you want to make a comment but don't wish to do so publicly, you can e-mail me.

Recovery

2006-05-25T16:28:00.000-04:00

A couple of people have taken me to task for my use of the phrase "recovering Mormon" to describe myself. I see now how that might be hurtful. It could suggest that I think there is something in the Mormon experience that we all need to recover from. That has not been what I have intended to suggest.

I use the term "recovering" because that is very much what I am doing. My own Mormon experience, while deeply fulfilling and enrichening at so many points and in so many settings, was also a source of pain for me. Deeply personal pain. I became Mormon in part because I thought it would help me not be gay. I thought it would be a path to overcome my homosexuality and to have the kind of life I longed for as a child and adolescent.

One of my most haunting memories of being young and gay occured just hours after I was baptized. I was with a male friend and I found myself feeling very attracted to him. Just a few hours after my sins had been washed clean! I was so upset. And I sat down and picked up my copy of The Miracle of Forgiveness, given to me by a sister missionary at my baptism. President Kimball condemns homosexuality in the very strongest terms in that book, compares it to bestiality and calls it unnatural and a sin next to murder. I don't know how else to describe how that hit me except to say that I was devastated.

But I was able to move on and do the best I could to be a good Mormon. I loved the Chruch, I loved to serve, and I loved the people I knew there. And when K and I started to develop a romantic relationship, I was so relieved. It seemed I wasn't gay after all! But my attraction didn't go away. It simply coexisted with my love for and life with K.

Throughout my life I would dive into the literature of homosexuality when I had the chance and read whatever I could about clinical treatment or how to manage it or overcome it. I spent hours on the websites of Evergreen International and NARTH. I prayed that God would change me. He didn't. So I prayed God would give me the stength to endure. For awhile I did. But about two years ago, my prayers changed. I prayed God would just take me. Better dead than gay. Better dead than to devastate my wife and children. Better dead than to betray the Church I loved, that told me I should either change or endure when I couldn't seem to do either. By this time last year I couldn't imagine myself old. I was sure I'd be dead long before I was elderly.

So I am recovering. I am recovering from the hurt I felt as a deeply closeted gay man trying my best to live the life I was told would bring me the greatest and eternal happiness. Some of that hurt is self inflicted. Some of it is not.

Coming Out, Part IV

2006-05-25T08:31:00.000-04:00

I have expressed this week that I am increasingly convinced that coming out is the right thing to do. That doesn't mean it has been easy.

Homosexuality and Mormonism do not coexist easily. For those who knew me as an active Mormon and church leader (I served as a bishop for five years, until spring of last year), this has been especially difficult news to swallow, particularly since it is coupled with my decision to leave the Church and to make public my doubts and evolved beliefs. Some people have been hurt. I accept that. Indeed, I'm sorry for it.

I received an e-mail from a friend who, I think, speaks for many and have decided to post it here for that reason. He served as bishop of another ward at the same time I did, and we were good friends.

K has reacted to his letter and to a comment from an anonymous poster. In time, I'll respond as well. But not today. Not yet.

(Posted with the author's permission.)
_________

Dear H,

Last night, I read your e-mail about coming out. It was forwarded to me by someone, and is certainly making the rounds (which will not surprise you). I’m sure by now you’re used to the reaction that many of us who knew you as Bishop have had. At first, of course, I was shocked. Then, deeply saddened. I am so very sorry to hear about the end of your marriage. It’s particularly sad to hear about the inner pain and anguish that you have been experiencing all these years, as you’ve secretly battled these tendencies and desires. I am convinced that no one who does not struggle as you have can fully understand the scope and magnitude of the inner-war that’s been raging inside you all this time.

I so enjoyed the friendship that you and I shared as we served together as bishop. I always felt that you and I had a special relationship, not just because we were called at the same time and then were released within a few months of each other, but also because our personalities and humor seemed to blend so well. I truly treasure the memory of our association during that time.

After reading your letter, I followed the link you included to your blog, and I proceeded to read just about everything you had written there about your experience of coming out as a gay man. I didn’t know that you struggled so much with your faith, and had so many doubts about the truthfulness of the restored gospel. In your blog, you talk about never having had a “big conversion experience, a moment when I felt God speaking to me and confirming the truth of all things, as Moroni promises”.

I felt sad when I read that. I know that there are probably many members of the church who can relate to that statement, many whom, like you, may not have had a significant “conversion experience”.

I don’t know what makes the difference in someone’s life, why one person can have a profound witness and another feel uncertain. When I joined the church 12 years ago, I had a profound witness by the power of the Holy Ghost that the church was true. It was a feeling that I had never experienced before, and I could never deny it. Since then, I have had several similar confirming witnesses of the truthfulness of the restored gospel, including a sacred witness that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God.

I’m not for a moment suggesting this makes me in any way better or more worthy than anyone else, and of course these experiences are not a daily occurrence. But they have happened often enough to create a spiritual reservoir that has sustained me through times of trial and difficulty. If, as you say, you really were not in possession of such a testimony, I can certainly understand how painful and difficult your life must have been these past years.

Now you and I have been good friends. I would like to continue our friendship. But in order for our friendship to continue I have to say some things to you. Just as you felt the need so deeply to express yourself, and felt a tremendous sense of relief about doing so, I too must take this opportunity to get some things out. If I can’t speak my peace now, we’ll never be able to be friends again, because I’ll always have these feelings buried inside me.

So here goes...

I was very disturbed by some of your statements about the church, and about how your faith has changed. It will come as no surprise to you that I and many others are deeply troubled by such a public renouncement of your testimony in the church.

Some of the things you write on your blog are, frankly, heartbreaking and disappointing. Your coming out e-mail (with the link to your blog that you included) is being forwarded to many members of the church in the stake. I’m sure you knew this would happen. I wonder, did you consider that some of the content of the blog might be emotionally devastating to people you once served as bishop? (You label yourself a “recovering” Mormon, which suggests that our religion is a disease of some kind, or an addiction, like alcoholism.)

In your blog, you talk a lot about your new religious beliefs. You say “I do not believe that there is one true church--churches are creations of men.”

It seems to me that this is very convenient. If, as you say, all church’s are “the creation of men”, then all of us can simply invent our own religion, each of us recreating God in our own image, to suit our needs. And of course, that’s exactly what you’ve done: “I'm content to think of my beliefs as my own rather than a part of any system or formal theology. My faith is part Mormon, part liberal Protestant, probably even a little Catholic, with a healthy dose of agnosticism tossed into the mix.”

You’re certainly free to invent your own personal theology, one that most accommodates your new “identity”, but what does that have to do with truth? Something doesn’t become true simply because you or I choose to believe it. If I choose to believe that the sun revolves around the earth, does my belief somehow make it “true”? Of course not. Real truth, eternal truth, has nothing to do with what we chose to believe. Truth stands independent. It is the same yesterday, today, and forever. That is what makes it so precious and sought for.

From my point of view, you seem to have constructed an entirely new belief system, almost overnight. This new belief system is not based not on any sense of eternal truth. It’s primary purpose is simply the validation of your new gay identity.

For example: Now that you’ve found your new identity, Heavenly Father has lost His (“I believe in God-whatever he and/or she is”); The Savior has now become a myth (“I don't know if Jesus Christ is/was a real person.”); the prophets and no longer prophets (“deficiency in LDS theology result(s) from a deep societal and cultural bias against homosexuality, particularly among men of the generation that lead the Church.”); the scriptures are no longer to be believed (“I take the scriptures seriously, but not literally. My faith does not rest on the historicity of the Old Testament--which I believe is mostly metaphorical--or the New Testament descriptions of Christ's ministry--which I believe to be historically unreliable--or of the Book of Mormon--the historicity of which I have doubted for many years. As historical documents, they fail.”)

So, to sum up: According to your new belief system, there are now no prophets; there is no Savior; the Old Testament, New Testament, and The Book of Mormon are all not true; and Heavenly Father is no longer God.

Wow. A lot seems to have changed since you have come out. Have you considered the possibility that all things actually remain just as they always were, and that the only thing that has changed is your perspective? Is it possible that your view of things has become distorted as a result of seeing the world through the prism of your new gay identity?

On your blog, you write: “I've rejected my Mormon identity because of the conflict I perceive in keeping it while adopting a gay one”. I’m not sure I know what you mean by “Mormon identity”. From my perspective, Latter-Day Saints, rich or poor, black or white, wherever in the world they may live, are people who are trying to become like Christ. It is His—Christ’s—identity that all of us are trying to “adopt”. Isn’t the conflict you describe between your “Mormon Identity” and your new “gay” one really the conflict between the “Natural man” and Christ? The whole purpose of the gospel is the eternal process of putting off the “Natural man” so that, over time (ages, eternity) we can become like Christ. We are to take upon us His name. We are to receive His image in our countenances. It’s not about us. It’s about Him.

Perhaps the saddest statement I read on your blog was this one: “I am in control of my life, and am in the best position to know what will bring happiness to me and my family.” What a sad statement that is. Of course, it’s not true. None of us are in the “best position” to know what will bring us happiness. Heavenly Father, who knows the end from the beginning, who knows us so much better than we know ourselves, knows far better than we do what ultimately brings eternal joy and happiness.

As I was reading your letter and your blog, I just couldn’t stop thinking of something Elder Maxwell said a few years ago, and today I went and found the quote:

“Only by aligning our wills with God’s is full happiness to be found. Anything less results in a lesser portion. I am going to preach a hard doctrine to you now. The submission of one’s will is really the only uniquely personal thing we have to place on God’s altar. It is a hard doctrine, but it is true. The many other things we give to God, however nice that may be of us, are actually things He has already given us, and He has loaned them to us. But when we begin to submit ourselves by letting our wills be swallowed up in God’s will, then we are really giving something to Him. And that hard doctrine lies at the center of discipleship.”

To me the overarching message of your blog is simply this: MY will be done.

I guess what it comes down to is pretty simple. The church is either true or it is not. Either Joseph Smith saw what he said he saw, or he did not. Either the Book of Mormon is a true account of a real civilization and it’s dealings with The Savior, or someone made it up. Either God and Christ were in that grove on that day or they were not. If not, then you are right and I and all I have said is wrong, and it really doesn’t matter what any of us believe. Like you, we can all just invent our own personal theology and give God whatever character and attributes we want he or she to have, and live our lives according to our own will and personal code of what we think is right and wrong—a code each of us reserves the right to continually update and modify, based on whatever circumstances we find ourselves in or in response to whatever challenges we may face.

I do not think that is true. The “hard doctrine at the center of discipleship” that Elder Maxwell referred to is that there is an Eternal Being, and He is our Heavenly Father, and as we surrender our will and allow our will to be swallowed up in His, we become like Him. We become who we were always meant to be. We become who we really are. I believe that’s the only “identity” that any of us should be interested in “adopting”.

You may think that my attitude towards your struggle with same-sex attraction is callous and insensitive. I apologize if that’s how this is coming across.

I have known many individuals in the church who struggle with same sex attraction. It is a very, very heavy cross to bear. Crosses come in all shapes and sizes. A wayward child, addiction, illness, death, depression, abuse, and on and on. I believe that each of us bears a cross. (As I’m sure you would agree, one unique perspective a bishop gains from the calling is the understanding that even those church members who seem the “strongest” on the outside often bear the heaviest crosses, sometimes silently and in secret.)

And, of course, there are certain crosses, like yours, that are simply too heavy to bear. Why would a loving Heavenly Father place upon us a cross too heavy to carry? I believe that is the very purpose of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. Relying on our own strength, we stumble and fall. But if we can learn to turn to him on a daily basis, drawing strength from the Atonement, relying upon not our own will or “willpower”, but placing our will on the altar each and every day, then, I believe, his “strength is sufficient” for us. Our hearts can change. Our very nature can change. Eventually, as our wills are swallowed up in His, our weaknesses can become our strengths. That is how we become “perfected in Christ.”

Unfortunately, the Savior does not seem to have much of a role to play in your new identity. You say that you no longer believe that Jesus Christ was real. You talk about believing in “the idea” of Jesus, and not being concerned with whether or not he actually existed. Maybe that’s because you don’t need him to be real anymore. Or maybe it’s because you just don’t want him to be.

There. I’ve said what I needed to say. I don’t believe that anything I’ve written will cause you to change your course, but I needed to express it just the same.

I sincerely wish you all the best.

J

Coming Out, Part III

2006-05-24T22:46:00.000-04:00

I've noticed a trend.

Generally speaking, my Mormon friends have expressed sadness upon hearing the news of the end of my marriage and my coming out as gay. Generally speaking, my non-Mormon friends have expressed happiness for me for coming out as gay, while also acknowledging the pain associated with the loss of my marriage for both K and me. There have been exceptions to this trend, but this is where it generally breaks out.

I have been surprised to hear expressions of unconditional love and support and acceptance from people I didn't necessarily expect it from. I have been surprised by silence from others that I expected would be among the first to reach out upon hearing the news. (EDIT on May 25: This sounds harsher than I intended it. People have lives.)

All in all, this has been a very good week for me. As I have indicated before, I feel liberated.

Coming Out, Part II

2006-05-23T23:49:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, my best friend wished me a happy first day of the rest of my life. I am now almost completely out of the closet. As I was walking to my therapist's office today, it struck me that there is no one that I would hide my sexuality from any more. My mother and I had a wonderful conversation tonight. The final frontier is a conversation with my dad and coming out more widely at work.

The sense of liberation is so empowering.

This morning I was riding a ferry boat across the Hudson River from New Jersey to my office in Manhattan, and as I did I had this overwhelming feeling of God's love. As powerfully as I have ever felt it, the Spirit whispered to me that I am on the right track and that I am doing the right thing in my life. I felt certain that coming out and starting over is the best thing not only for me, but for K and for our girls. I have been touched by the many messages of love and support I have received over the past few days, but nothing was quite as touching, affirming and validating as a note from a graduate school friend of mine, who wrote in part:

I hope you won't think me presumptuous, but as a relatively new father I couldn't help thinking about your kids last night. And it struck me that you and K, in a very basic way, have essentially saved their lives. Not their physical lives, obviously, but their emotional, mental and even spiritual lives. I've come to think more and more that secrets and an inability to face the truth (even truths far less important than one's sexuality) in relationships and families is like a toxin that if allowed to remain destroys everyone connected to it. I think you've done a wonderful job of flushing the toxin out - as a long run proposition I can't think of a greater gift to children than to provide them with an environment that is so safe and true. I'm humbled when I think of your accomplishment.

I'm humbled by his love and support and his recognition that accepting myself and coming out as a gay man is a gift not only to myself, but to K and my daughters as well.

Coming Out, Part I

2006-05-22T16:46:00.000-04:00

On the thread "About your mother," K posted this last night:

Tonight my gay best friend sent an e-mail in which he came out to his oldest and dearest friends, and to his parents. In this moment, he has been the bravest individual I've had the privilege of knowing. You are part of his support and I am grateful to all of you for being there. I believe that this blog will not remain anonymous for long, and I also strongly believe that he will be a huge strength to others in the future. I love you, H.

I love you, too, K.

She was at my side last night as I hit the SEND button and took the process of coming out to another level. I was so grateful for her support and love and encouragement.

All of my posts this week will be about coming out.

The Closet

2006-05-18T12:09:00.000-04:00

One week after I came out to K, I had an experience that truly jumpstarted the process of liberation from the closet for me. I wrote about it a day later and just came across it again. I decided that it was worthy of posting on the blog.

September 26, 2005

Yesterday morning, I got up with my family and made all three of my girls breakfast. Bacon, eggs and waffles. K had decided to take the girlies to church. It's important for her to work out her feelings toward the church, and she doesn't think that just walking away from it is necessarily the right approach for her at this point. She wants to know if she can still feel anything there. She's done with the dogma, but she needs to know if there is anything still there for her. I understand that. I am grateful, however, that she has no problem leaving me behind at home.

In fact, we've decided that 10:00 to 1:00 on Sundays will be devoted exclusively to spiritual renewal for our family. Sometimes we'll be together for that. Sometimes we won't. But during those three hours on Sunday, we'll work on communing with God, whatever he/she is. For my spriritual renewal yesterday, I destroyed a closet.
We are about to finish our attic. But before we can do that, we have to remove an ugly old closet that was built many years ago just off of the one finished room up there.
I sent the girls off to church then went across the street to borrow a sledgehammer and crow bar from our neighbors. I went upstairs and browsed my iTunes library for some appropriate demolition music. I couldn't find any, so I browsed the Apple Music Store and bought four Def Leppard songs: Tear It Down, Demolition Man, Make Love Like a Man and Rock Rock Til you Drop.

I cleared the area around that closet. I took off my shirt. I put on some safety glasses. I turned the music on and played it LOUD. These are the words that I was listening to:

Tear it down
There's got to be a better way
Tear it down
I can't wait another day
Tear it down

With Def Leppard screaming in the background, I took the sledgehammer and beat the living shit out of that closet. I cursed at it. I yelled at it. I told it that I hated it for what it had done to me, and to K, and to my kids, and to gay men like me everywhere. I cursed that damn closet like I've never cursed anything in my life.
This is what it looked like when I was finished.
And the funny thing about this closet... it had a fairly strong wooden frame, but it was mostly just particle board held together by a few nails. It looked stronger than that to me when I started. But it came down easily and quickly. I thought the job of demolishing the closet would be much more daunting.

I cleaned up the debris after I took the closet down. I put the wood in one pile, the particle board in another, and the hardware in another. Then I took the crowbar and got rid of the last vestiges. I did not want there to be any signs of this closet once I was finished. I swept up when I was finished. And the attic seemed clean and bright.

I sat down and rested for a minute, then changed the music on the iPod. I put on the song that has become our hymn over the past few days, The Sun Song by Michael Tolcher. I walked to the space where the closet had stood. I turned the music up loud. And I danced on that spot. I danced and twirled and sang as loud as I could. I cried. Tears streamed down my face as I celebrated that open space and listened to these words:

One more beginning for as long as it lasts
A new day for the living all forgiving of the past
A heavy foot steps to the dark unknown
This is a mystery
No security of home

Here comes the sun
Over my head
Show me a path and I'll be led
Walking alone
I'm not afraid
I have my wings to fly away

When K came home I took her upstairs and showed her that open space where the closet once was. I showed her the pictures I took of the closet and its destruction. I gave her a hug and cried on her shoulder for a minute and told her what a nice time I had at church that morning.

About your mother

2006-05-14T00:39:00.000-04:00

Dear Girlies,

Today is Mother’s Day. It’s a special Mother’s Day because it’s the first one for our family since I came out as a gay man and since mommy and I decided that we are going to get divorced. That makes it a somewhat bittersweet day for us—happiness and some sadness all at once.

Let me explain the sadness that I feel. I sometimes feel sad that I’ve decided that I don’t want to be married to mommy anymore. She’s a remarkable woman, and she has brought a lot of happiness into my life and into the lives of the many people who love her. She’s been very supportive of me and I still feel like she’s my best friend ever. But over the last year I realized that I wasn’t as happy as I need to be because I couldn’t feel like I could be myself when married to mommy. That’s not her fault. She’s beautiful and fun to be with. But God made me in such a way that I love men and I want to spend my life and commit myself to another man, not a woman. I’m happy that I’ve made peace with that. I’m happy that I can admit that to myself and to mommy and to the two of you and the other people in my life. But I still feel some sadness about the pain that has caused our family. I feel a sense of loss.

But this letter isn’t about me or about sadness. It’s about your mommy.

You girlies are lucky that God and nature conspired to make you her daughters. As you grow up and become big girls, then young women, and then adults, you will understand why I say that. You will be inspired by her strength and compassion. As you get older you will better understand how difficult this past year has been for her and you will learn that strength can blossom and grow in the face of adversity. You will learn that you can be graceful and kind under intense pressure. You will learn that you can always start over in your life, even when your whole world seems to be turned upside down and you’re not really sure where you fit in. You will learn how important it is to forgive. You will look at her and you will see an example of a strong, independent woman who has always allowed her love for the people around her to trump feelings of anger or resentment or bitterness. You will see a woman with a great sense of humor and a love for life.

Your mommy isn’t perfect. She makes mistakes. You’ll see that as you grow up, too. You see it sometimes now. And sometimes your mommy’s mistakes will make you angry. She can have a fiery temper sometimes. Sometimes she yells too much and her patience runs thin. But she is always trying to make herself a better person, and she’s willing to accept her imperfections and her humanity. You’ll learn from that as you grow up as well.

I think the most important thing you need to know about your mommy is that she finds the greatest joy in seeing the people in her life succeed and be happy. I’ve seen it with you girls. The times when I have seen her happiest as your mom have been when you have been happy being yourself, dancing and playing or imagining, or when you have achieved something. I’ve seen the same thing with her sisters, with her mother, with her friends, and with me. Mommy feels really joy and contentment when she sees the people she loves doing well and being happy. She wants to help all of us be the best we can be.

You will have many examples and role models in your life. You should have many because you can learn something new and different and helpful from so many different people. But I really hope that your mother will be one of your greatest and most influential role models. I just want you to know on this Mother’s Day that I honor and respect and love your mother. She’s a special woman and a special friend. Even though our family is changing now, we will always be a family. She will always be my family.

I love you girls. I hope you will grow up to be independent and strong and happy with yourselves, but I hope you’ll be a lot like your mommy, too.

All my love,
Daddy

What I learned in Enniskerry, Ireland (cont.)

2006-05-10T08:29:00.000-04:00

Ever since I came out to my wife, K, and began in earnest the process of accepting myself as a gay man, we have struggled to find our way. Most people who know us think we've done a good job, both individually and as a couple, but it has been extraordinarily difficult at times. The challenge has been that it often appears that there are only two ways forward, neither of which feel right to us--to me. Whispering in one ear is the collective voice of my gay friends, telling me that I need to move out (I still live at home, in a separate part of the house) and move on as quickly as possible. It's too painful, they say, for K and I and to continue to be present in each other's lives when we need to find ourselves and when I need to begin enjoying freedom as a gay man. In the other ear is the voice of my Mormon friends and family, telling me that I need to stay in my marriage and honor my marital commitment and my temple covenants, whatever difficulties may come. I made my choice, they say, when I kneeled across from K at the altar in the Salt Lake Temple nearly eleven years ago.

I'm exaggerating for some effect here. Most of my family and friends, gay and straight, are quick to say that they can't and don't want to tell us what to do or how to move forward. But those are the two options that most people see for us. But neither has felt right to me or to K. So we've been on a quest to find a "third way" that honors the sacrifices we have made for each other, the love we continue to feel for each other and the responsibility we feel toward our children. We want to give each other the freedom to move on, but we also want to preserve that which need not be set aside. It has been both a individual and a joint quest.

I think at times we have both wondered if we are simply fooling ourselves or living in denial. We are ending our marriage and we need to start over. Maybe a clean break is what we need. Maybe we need to rip off the band aid. We've pondered this together and individually. Our lives are increasingly independent anyway.

But here's the thing. I really like K. She and I were friends before we were ever spouses and as I have gotten to know her again over the past eight months, I've rediscovered why. She's kind. She's caring. She's funny. She's smart. She's honest. She is supportive and understanding and loving not just to me but to all the people in her life. In other words, she's just the kind of straight girlfriend any gay man would die to have. How can we cut each other off without doing lasting damage to our *fabulous* friendship and the sense of family we have worked so hard to first create and now recreate?

We have to find a third way.

K and I were in Ireland together over the weekend. We planned the trip months ago but as it drew closer we weren't always sure we'd make it or that we'd actually want to go together. But as the day of departure approached, we decided we wanted to do it. Remember--we like each other a lot.

Over this past weekend in Dublin, K told me that she felt differently about me. When she looks at me, she no longer sees her husband, but her best friend who also happens to be gay and the father of her children. She sees me emerging as the happy and openly gay man that she knows I want to be. She also confronted me with my continuing inability to be open and comfortable about my identity all the time. She told me that if we genuinely want to continue the friendship then I have to be myself all the time with her and stop worrying about hurting her. I have to truly and honestly be me. She told me, in essense, that it's time to stop acting like her husband when I clearly wasn't anymore--and when I didn't want to be anymore.

Sunday we left Dublin for the day and went to the little village of Enniskerry in County Wicklow. It was a beautiful day and we wandered around and had a nice picnic lunch. Toward the end of the day we spent an hour or so in a cemetary connected to the village church. We walked around and took pictures and looked at gravestones and considered all the lives that were represented and remembered there. And we felt a connection to each other, a deep bond of friendship. K looked at me and affirmed me and told me that she wants me to be happy as a gay man. She told me that she wants me to find happiness with another man. She's done this before, but this time I let myself really feel what she was saying. Or, more accurately, I let myself feel the truth of her words. I let myself accept it without feeling a gay husband's guilt. I let myself acknowledge to her that that is what I want too.

And I told her how much I wanted her to be happy and to find someone who would love her. I told her how much I wanted to be supportive of her as she moves into a new phase of her life, and I told her how much I wanted to be a part of that, not as her husband, but as her friend and as her partner in taking care of two precious little girls.

I felt God's love wash over us. I felt the Spirit whispering to me that the course we are on is the right course for us. I felt God's witness that I should rejoice in this second chance that he has given us to live our lives more honestly. I wept as I spent time with K and as I pondered the memory of the lives and the sense of family that surrounded us in that graveyard. I saw carved in stone at the bottom of a gravemarker these simple words: "God is love."

And that's what I learned in Enniskerry, Ireland. That love--God's love--really is the third way we have been searching for and that our love for each other as deep and true friends is what will sustain us as we move into our new lives.

Best Gay Blogs

2006-05-09T08:41:00.000-04:00

Before continuing where I left off about what I learned in Enniskerry, I wanted to let you all know that it has come to my attention that HURRICANE was highlighted on Best Gay Blogs.

I'm flattered and thrilled!

What I learned in Enniskerry, Ireland

2006-05-08T06:03:00.000-04:00

I have been in the Republic of Ireland since last Thursday with my best friend (see updated profile). We've had a really great time and yesterday I had a profoundly sacred experience with her in the little town of Enniskerry, near Dublin. I'm going to write about it more extensively, but for now I just wanted to hold this space and say this: God is love, of that I'm more certain than ever.

I am a gay man

2006-05-01T10:41:00.000-04:00

The last time I posted I asked the question, "Who am I?" Today, I think I'm a little closer to knowing.

We are, of course, always in the process of defining ourselves, particularly as we transform and transition through the various phases of life. For a gay person emerging from the closet, this process usually involves redefining oneself, often in dramatic ways. I have spent most of my adult life defining myself as a husband, as a Mormon, and as a straight man. The tranformation to life as a former husband, a former Mormon and a gay man is well underway, but it isn't always a smooth process and I often feel unsure of where I am going.

Late last week, I traveled to San Francisco for a day of meetings for my job. I decided to stay the weekend and spend some time with a gay friend of mine. I've known him since junior high school, but it had been probably fifteen years since we had seen each other. After I started coming out, a mutual friend reconnected us and we've spent some great times catching up over the phone. When my business trip came up, I knew that I wanted to extend it into the weekend so my friend and I could hang out, have fun, and gay it up on the town.

And that is precisely what we did. I spent Thursday night, Friday night and all of the day and evening on Saturday with him, primarily in the Castro, San Francisco's famous gay quarter. It was an extraordinary experience for me. For the first time in my life I felt completely free and unburdened by my sexuality and my emerging gay identity. I walked the Castro as gay men and women in all shapes, colors and sizes walked it with me. I went to coffee shops, clothing stores, restaurants and bars and nary a straight person was to be seen. My friend introduced me to some of his friends and we talked and laughed and enjoyed each other's company until late into the night and when the time came to say goodbye all gave each other kisses and went our separate ways.

On Saturday after dinner my friend and I walked over to a pub to meet up with some other friends. Along the way my friend put his arm around me and I wrapped mine around his waist and we just walked down the street, two gay friends showing their affection for each other. We were utterly unremarkable in this setting and under these circumstances--and I found that to be quite remarkable! I felt so at ease with myself. I felt natural. I felt real and authentic and good. Indeed, if ever I wondered if being gay is just about sex, this weekend proved to me that it is not. I simply felt free to be gay, to think of myself as a man who loves other men, and to be in the company of other men who experience humanity and view the world through the same lens that I do.

Who am I? I still am struggling to figure that out, but after a great weekend in San Francisco with a long lost friend, I can say with more confidence than ever that I am a gay man.

Who am I?

2006-04-25T21:15:00.000-04:00

That was the question on my mind during therapy today. The answer? I don't know.

I know who I'm not. I'm not a straight man. I'm not a Mormon (anymore). I'm not really even a husband at this point in my life though my wife and I continue to care for and love each other.

I have some inkling of who I am becoming. I have it thanks in part to the pieces of my identity that have endured over the last year. I am a father. I am a faithful friend and partner. I am a Christian.

An occasional source of friction between my wife and me over the past few months has been her assertion that as we move into lives more independent of each other, I will have no trouble finding a man who will love me. She bases this assertion on her firm belief that I am lovable. I'm grateful for her confidence. But I have never been so sure as she. I have struggled to understand my doubt. I have always thought that it was rooted in my lack of experience with other gay men. I am just now learning how to interact with other men like me. But I think there's more to it than that. I can't imagine being with another man right now because I struggle to know who I am. How, I wonder, can I be with another man when I don't really even know how to be with myself?

Ashamed

2006-04-18T18:17:00.000-04:00

Last week I was in my Monday evening yoga class and we were in the relaxation phase. I was lying on my back, looking up at the ceiling. The lights were turned low and soft music played. In the quiet of the moment, all I could see in my mind's eye was my seven-year-old daughter's face. Just a day earlier we had told her that we are getting divorced and that I'm gay. She took the news bravely. I was proud of her. But as I lay there in the yoga studio trying to clear my mind, all I could feel for what I had done was shame. Tears rolled down my face as I cried quietly. When the lights came up, I just got up and left rather than have to face anyone in the room.

I went to the locker room to shower. As I stood under the water, my crying turned to sobbing. I was so upset with where I found myself in that moment. A child of divorce myself, I never wanted to inflict the pain that I experienced in my childhood on my children. Yet here I was, a day removed from telling my daughter that her parents were ending their marriage. I felt crushed. I felt like a failure.

My mind kept rolling back to the night before. After we told our daughter of our impending divorce and then put her to bed, my wife and I got into a bit of an argument. She felt ambushed by a couple of the things I said about how we will proceed--specifically, when and how I will move out of the house. She was angry with me and felt as though I had been keeping things from her and used the occasion of coming out to our daughter to reveal my thought process. I understood her point, but it wasn't something I had done intentionally.

These two scenes kept playing in my mind--my daughter's reaction to the news of the divorce and my wife's anger at things I said. I walked from the gym after dressing from yoga class to get on the train home and as I did, I had a moment of epiphany. I realized that the guilt I was feeling about telling my daughter that I was leaving her mother and my (at times unconscious) reluctance to raise certain issues about separation with my wife in a direct way were rooted in the same ground: shame of being gay.

I'm sad about the end of my marriage, but I have accepted that it is something that I both need and want to do. I'm sad about the divorce experience that my children will now face, even though I believe it is the right course for us. So why was I feeling so devastated? Shame. Shame that I still feel about being gay. Shame not at getting divorced or telling that to my daughter, but shame for the reasons behind it. Shame for being gay.

I talked to my therapist about this a couple of days later and he was not surprised. He told me that I was fooling myself if I thought that I could undo 30+ years of conditioning in seven months. He told me it would take time to get past feelings of shame about being gay. He told me this wouldn't be the last time I would feel this way.

Most of the time, I feel like I've made remarkable strides toward accepting myself and being happy about being gay. For that, I'm thankful. And for the times when shame creeps back in, I'm just grateful that I've learned to recognize it for what it is.

A child's love

2006-04-11T21:33:00.000-04:00

On Sunday night, my wife and I sat down with our older daughter (7) and told her that I am gay and that because of that we will be getting divorced.

She was devastated and cried passionately and loudly upon hearing the news of the divorce. We reassured her that this was not her fault ("Promise?"), that we loved her more than ever, and even that we continue to love each other, but that because I'm gay we think ending our marriage is the best way for us each to be happy. She asked a lot of questions, mostly looking for reassurance that she wasn't going to lose her family. It was an incredibly difficult experience for me. My parents divorced when I was very young and I've really only started to understand how much that experience impacted my childhood and adolescence and how it has influenced the choices I have made in adulthood. I understood my daughter's anguish as she heard this frightening news in a very real and personal way.

But as we talked, and as my wife and I reassured her both in word and in the way we interacted with each other as we talked with her, she seemed to find some comfort. She asked when I found out I was gay and why it had taken so long. I explained to her that I have always known that I like boys, but many people think it's wrong to be gay, so I tried very hard not to be for a very long time. It told her that it wasn't until I decided that being gay wasn't a bad thing that I began to be able to admit to myself that I really am gay.

We told her about all the people in her life that she already knows who are gay. We told her about the group of gay dads that I meet with every month ("You mean there are other kids who have gay dads, too?"). She said that she thought it was "stupid" and "silly" that some people think it's bad to be gay. And then, as it was time for us to get her in to bed, she said something that will stick with me forever: "Dad, I'm sad that you and Mommy are getting divorced, but I'm really happy that you get to be yourself. You shouldn't have to pretend anymore." Before this coversation, we had spoken about homosexuality in only the most general and vague terms with her ("Most boys fall in love with girls, and most girls fall in love with boys. But some boys fall in love with other boys and some girls fall in love with other girls--that's what gay is."). For her to confidently and sincerely affirm me like that was unexpected.

It has been clear to my wife, our daughter's therapist, her teacher and me that she has for some time sensed that something was amiss in her family. She has been acting out and has had trouble sleeping. Her anxiety was the primary reason we chose to tell her now what is going on in our family. She thanked us for telling her--for letting her "be a part of the team" that is working for a happy future for all of us. I felt so close to my little girl as she told me this, and I realized how much I wanted her to know that I am gay not just to lessen her anxiety, but also so that she could truly know her dad. Though sad, she seemed relieved to finally know what it was that was swirling around her and inside her. Sunday night she slept soundly through the night for the first time in three weeks.

Last night as I was kissing her good night she said to me, unprompted, "Daddy, I'm proud of you." My wife affirmed me in a similar way when I came out to her for the first time in September, and many times since. My little girl is her mother's daughter. I love her and am incredibly proud of her and feel certain that we are all going to be okay. More than okay--we are going to thrive.

These things I believe

2006-04-09T16:15:00.000-04:00

Over on Keep Changing, L recently did a series of blog posts about the things in which he believes. I recently had an e-mail exchange with my brother-in-law in which we shared with each other our beliefs. He is still a faithful and devout Mormon and he was wanting to understand how my beliefs have changed.

This is relevant to me today because this morning I took a definitive and concrete step away from the LDS Church. My family and I joined a new church, a well established congregation in our town that is affiliated with the United Church of Christ. Among other things, the UCC is open and affirming of gays and lesbians.

So on this day of the Christian sabbath, I share my beliefs.

I still consider myself a believing Christian, though I don't know if Jesus Christ is/was a real person. Nevertheless, the idea of Jesus is real and is something that I believe in--in fact, the idea of Christ and what the myth of Christ represents to me is more important than the question of whether or not he did/does exist. The story of Christ is empowering and comforting, which has more meaning to me in my life and struggles than whether or not a man named Jesus ever actually lived.

I also think the idea of atonement is real and powerful and I draw comfort from the idea that I can be reconciled in my imperfection--in my sins, for I do believe in sin--to a perfect God through the vehicle of atonement. I have felt the power of the atonement in my life and I have felt what I believe to be a small element of what Christ experienced in offering himself for us. I have experienced it as a way of healing myself, reconciling with those who I am close to, and in feeling God's love and acceptance. But these things exist in the realm of faith, and I have always struggled with faith, even when I was "strong" in the Church. I do not know any of these things for certain. All I can do is have faith in the power of the idea to transform my life and the world in which I live.

I take the scriptures seriously, but not literally. My faith does not rest on the historicity of the Old Testament (which I believe is mostly metaphorical) or the New Testament descriptions of Christ's ministry (which I believe to be historically unreliable) or of the Book of Mormon (the historicity of which I have doubted for many years). As historical documents, they fail. So I think it is important to place them in context and use them as one pillar that upholds my belief system. And so again, I come back to having faith in the ideas and principles of Christianity and Mormonism without having any real certainty of their basis in empirical fact.

On a more personal level, I believe God--whatever he and/or she is (for I am not certain)--loves us without condition; that nothing we can do will make God love--or bless--us any more or any less. Indeed, if there is anything I do believe literally these days, it is that God is love. God is the love I have for my children and my family--the love that has sustained my wife and me through the most challenging time of our lives.

I also believe in exercising faith in the idea/person of Christ, but my experiences--including the feelings of spiritual alienation I have felt over the years because of my homosexuality--tell me that the process is unique to each of as individuals. I do not believe that there is one true church--churches are creations of men. I do not believe that there is a universal formula for exercising faith; no universal formula for true happiness other than that which comes from integrity, honesty and faithful and compassionate commitment to others.

Sometimes--often?--our exercise of faith is tenuous and unsure even when it is profoundly sincere.

Homosexuality and Mormonism

2006-03-31T21:33:00.000-05:00

As I look over what I've written on my blog since I launched it in late February, I see that I have never explicity stated my views on homosexuality even though I think my point of view has come through clearly in my blog posts and comments on other gay Mormon blogs. Because Mormonism has been such an important part of my life and has deeply impacted how I view the world and God, I think it makes sense for me to outline these views in a comparative way.

I'll start with where the LDS Church stands.

The Church posits that homosexuality is a challenge: a test or trial to be endured or a cross to bear. Homosexual inclinations or tendencies may not be chosen by those who experience them, but they should never be acted on. Homosexuality has no role in the Plan of Salvation except to frustrate it and efforts to normalize homosexuality and homosexual relations should be resisted at all levels--personal, societal, spiritual, and theological.

This approach finds expression in the language the church uses, even when it comes to the words used to describe the issue at hand. The euphemistic "same-sex attraction" or "same-gender attraction" are the preferred terms. "Gay" and "lesbian" and "homosexual" are never to be used as nouns and should not be the linguistic basis around which to build an identity.

The most authoritative direct statement on homosexuality comes in the form of an article by Elder Dallin H. Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, published in 1995. The most authoritative indirect statement is the Proclamation on the Family, issued in 1995 as well in part as a response to gay marriage initiatives in Hawaii and Alaska. Homosexuality is seen as a threat to the institution and doctrines of the family.

The Church tacitly supports organizations such as Evergreen International, which encourages (mostly) gay men to work to curb, control and overcome their same-sex attraction and is supportive of reparative therapy. Though the Church concedes that sexual orientation may never be overcome "in this life" (making it clear that it is an imperfection which will likely be corrected in the next), it also does not close the door on the possibility of change. This can be found in the statements of various church leaders, including in Elder Oaks's 1995 article, and in Church-published or Church-approved literature (including books such as Born That Way? and In Quiet Desperation. The message frequently delivered in Church statements and media is that to deny the possibility of change is to deny the power of the Atonement.

Theologically, there is no place for homosexuals in the Mormon conception of heaven--at least not at the highest level. A recent discussion on Times & Seasons illuminated the theological obstacles to accepting homosexuality as anything other than, at best, defective. The underlying assumption in Mormon thought is that homosexual behavior (i.e., sex) is always sinful and that even homosexual thoughts and desires, while not chosen, should be controlled and resisted.

Mormon thinking on homosexuality has evolved over the years. In one of his most famous books, The Miracle of Forgiveness, Spencer W. Kimball compares homosexuality to bestiality and describes it as a sin against nature, almost as severe as murder. Homosexuality was assumed to be a chosen behavior rather than an innate orientation. Homosexual men were often encouraged to marry as a way to "cure" their homosexual inclinations. These are no longer features of the Church's official posture on the issue, though remnants of these ideas linger in Mormon culture. Mormons tend to reduce the question of homosexuality to sexual desire.

I take a different view and reject most of this.

I believe that homosexual orientation is innate, unchosen, immutable and morally neutral.

Because I believe that orientation is immutable, I am largely unconcerned about its causes. That said, I think there is ample evidence that orientation has deep roots in biology and genetics.

Homosexuality is a minority expression of normal, healthy human sexuality. Homosexuals are most likely to find genuine and lasting happiness and mental health by embracing and accepting their sexuality and integrating it fully into their personal identities. This includes opening oneself to the possibility of giving and receiving love--emotional and sexual--to another of the same sex. Resisting one's homosexual orientation is largely an unhealthy exercise in futility and can be emotionally damaging. The American Psychiatric Association suggests that reparative therapy is ineffective and can be detrimental to the patient.

I believe that committed homosexual relationships are the moral equivalent of committed heterosexual relationships. Promiscuity, infidelity and deception are always sinful, whether indulged in in heterosexual or homosexual relationships. I do not believe that homosexuality need be a barrier to deep religious faith or a connection to God. To the contrary, my own experience tells me that denying one's homosexuality can in fact alienate one from God.

As it is currently understood and articulated by those in authority in the Mormon Church, I cannot reconcile with LDS doctrine a view of homosexuality as morally neutral and homosexual relationships as valid and righteous--at least not as it pertains to exaltation. I suggest that the gap that exists, however, is a manifestation of a deficiency in LDS theology resulting from a deep societal and cultural bias against homosexuality, particularly among men of the generation that lead the Church.

Shout out

2006-03-29T23:33:00.000-05:00

I just wanted to say that I'm honored to be in the company of the men who make up the gay bloggernacle. I was thrilled--thrilled!--to see that Foxx has added me to the gay blogroll on his site (freaky dream, man). Elbow and L also link to this site from their blogs, and I just discovered that DCTwistedLife has me on his as well. Another Other and I have had a nice e-mail exchange. And Hawaii Dave is something of an Obi-Wan Kenobi to me--a wise gay Jedi master.

It's been a little crazy over on Gay Mormon's blog, in case you haven't been following it.

Thanks, brethren. I'd link to your sites as well, but I don't know how and don't care enough to figure it out. Sure love ya, though.

Trembling no more

2006-03-26T23:46:00.000-05:00

Saturday night I finally sat down and watched "Trembling Before G-d," a powerful documentary about gay Orthodox and Hasidic Jews. Though I'm not Jewish, there was so much in this film that I could relate to. Mormons often think of themselves as Israel, as God's chosen people, so it was easy to put myself in the place of the Jews on the screen. As my wife remarked a couple of times as we watched, "They could be Mormon. They sound so Mormon!"

The film included the stories of gay men and lesbians; some married, some not; some still trying to fit into the community, others long out of it. Particularly touching for me was the story of David, a gay man from Los Angeles who travels to Israel to confront a rabbi who two decades earlier set him off on a course to fix his sexual orientation. David returned to tell him that therapy had failed and to ask this man--someone he had loved and looked up to--what now? The rabbi said that like all "evil inclinations," homosexuality was to be resisted and overcome. In the Jewish tradition (as I understand it) such inclinations are, in fact, created specifically by God to be resisted and overcome by those who experience them. David clearly accepted that interpretation for much of his life. It was moving to see him confront this rabbi and demand to know what this man expected of him now. Celibacy, he was told, is the only option.

Thank you, Bishop, er, rabbi.

For many of these men and women, there is no way for them to be gay and Orthodox. The two are incompatible. And so these gay Jews tremble before God, unable to accept themselves as fully Jewish or fully gay--and pained deeply that they can be neither.

I felt this conflict for many years as a closeted gay Mormon. But, now, finally, I no longer tremble before God. I've come to believe that the fear I felt about standing before God as a gay man was in fact fear of myself. We are created in the image of God, but I could not find anything gay in God. And so I feared what I felt. I denied it. But since I no longer fear myself, I no longer fear God. I don't feel judgment or trepidation. I have finally been able to offer love and acceptance to myself--and in so doing, I have finally been able to feel it from God, offered unconditionally. And this is no surprise, for God is love. I find God in the love I feel for my family, for my friends, and for myself. My failure to love and accept myself created a barrier between God and me that is finally melting away.

I am gay, and God loves me. Mazel tov!

Identity and Religious Belief

2006-03-24T09:15:00.000-05:00

My wife has been taking a class on human psycho-social development as a first step in preparing for a new a career as a social worker. A discussion we had a couple of nights ago about identity formation led me to reflect on my transformation over the past several months, including the evolution of my religious beliefs.

I've never been an orthodox Mormon. I've lived with doubts, some of them profound, ever since I joined the church in my teenage years. But the natural evolution and maturation of my beliefs accelerated over the past year as I felt my emerging gay identity come into ever sharper conflict with what I thought I believed or what I wanted to believe or what I thought I should believe. I think one thing common to the gay Mormon experience is cognitive dissonance. You are taught to believe one thing, but your experience comes into conflict with it. This happens to other people, of course, but I think it happens to almost all gay Mormons at some point. And that usually leads to a crossroads of sorts: continue to believe what you have been taught and redefine (or deny) your own experience, or accept the truth of your experience and let your spiritual and religious beliefs adapt. Throughout my life, I've tended to the latter option. That is particularly true now.

I've never been a literalist and I've always had my doubts about certain "truths" as the LDS Church teaches them: the nature of God, the historicity of the Book of Mormon, the claim to authority among them. I don't think I've ever hid my skepticism--not from my friends, not from my family, and not from my church leaders. But I adopted the Mormon view as the lens through which I chose to understand God and experience spirituality (and resolve the problems or gaps that emerged in my understanding), so I didn't ever feel especially conflicted in my younger years. As I have better understood how we form our identities, I have come to better understand why I joined the Church when I did--as a teenager--and stayed despite a lack of faith in some of its teachings. It seems clear to me now that when I was a teenager I was so uncomfortable with my emerging sexual identity, that I was quite happy to take on a Mormon identity instead--an indentity which was handed to me complete and which was then reinforced on my mission and in Church service opportunities that bonded me to the community and that provided a very real and meaningful vehicle for experiencing God. It was easy to set aside some of my own personal doubts or ignore the shallowness of my faith in some areas when the Church was providing so much meaning in my life and was helping me build a sense of self and an identity that was more in line with what I thought I wanted.

That's not to say that I didn't truly believe or develop a "testimony"--I did. I just never believed in the same way that I think many other Mormons do. In fact, an in-law of mine once remarked to me that I seemed to lack a big conversion experience, a moment when I felt God speaking to me and cofirming the truth of all things, as Moroni promises. I think I did lack the big experience. I had a conversion "story" -- a narrative that explained my transition from non-Mormon to Mormon, but I didn't have that moment. Instead, I grew into it and became comfortable with the identity the Church was offering me. I don't think I really felt converted to the Church in a meaningful way until my mission, even though I felt affection for and loyalty to it before then. I better understand why now at this stage in my life. I needed a Mormon identity as much as I needed a Mormon testimony.

So where am I now? I am constructing a new identity as a gay man--a more authentic identity. I've rejected my Mormon identity because of the conflict I perceive in keeping it while adopting a gay one. I'm starting over with my religious beliefs, as I realize how much my "testimony" has changed to integrate with my new identity. My faith is now more genuine. Mostly I'm content to think of my beliefs as my own rather than a part of any system or formal theology. My faith is part Mormon, part liberal Protestant, probably even a little Catholic, with a healthy dose of agnosticism tossed into the mix. For now, I'm very happy not to box myself in.

Disciplinary Action

2006-03-17T09:11:00.000-05:00

Before I came out to my wife, I made contact with a kind man in Washington, D.C., named Buckley Jeppson. He is part of a group called gamofites that I turned to for support as my life started to come crashing down. Buck was married for many years, has a daughter, and he provided some valuable support to me at a very difficult time. It was a relief to talk to someone who had experienced what I was going through.

Buck is openly gay, but he has continued to associate with the LDS Church, though in a less engaged way than he did when he was still married to his wife. A couple of years ago, Buck and his partner of several years went to Canada and got married, but he continued to attend sacrament meeting periodically. It was important to him because it was his heritage and he enjoyed the fellowship of the saints and hymn singing. He never asked for a calling or a temple recommend. He just liked going to church from time to time.

Buck is now facing church discipline because of his current same-sex marriage. You can read more of his story here.

Destiny

2006-03-13T20:57:00.000-05:00

Last week I read a post in the gay bloggernacle that haunted me. It was written with love, eloquence and sincerity and reflected the complexity and depth of human relationships. As I read it, I felt fear. I felt fear I might become a lonely old gay man, alienated from his former wife and children and longing for the comfort of home and family.

I think it is probably impossible for a gay Mormon man not to struggle with fear of this sort. We hear from church leaders and fellow saints that true happiness if found only by following a straight and narrow path, and it is abundantly clear for Latter-day Saints that a homosexual life lies outside of that path. We are often told that the "lifestyle" is hedonistic and selfish. We hear this even from other gay Mormons, who convince themselves that living a gay life would be merely giving in to physical desires and temptations. Even now, I will admit, thoughts similar to these creep into my head from time to time, especially now as my wife and I continue the process of separation.

Which is why I am using this space on my blog to declare that my destiny need not be unhappiness or misery or alienation from my family even if I chose a gay life, a life more authentic for me, a homosexual man. It need not be what others tell me it might or should be. I need not look to the experiences of other gay married men and think that it is directly applicable to me. My destiny is mine to create. My role as a father--and, God willing, a grandfather--is mine to fulfill. For me and my family, what has made all the difference is honesty and understanding. I do not make the choices I make in a vacuum without consideration of needs and wants of my family, including my wife.

This is not an easy path. For many, it may well be the wrong path. But I am in control of my life, and am in the best position to know what will bring happiness to me and my family. I choose to accept myself, proudly and happily, as gay and to start life anew as a gay man. And how blessed I am to have two children who will remain the central focus of my life and a wife who has supported me on this journey and accepted the new possibilities it has opened up for her and our family.

I'm just travelin' thru

2006-03-08T20:10:00.000-05:00

I've been through a couple of emotionally wrenching and draining days. I plan to write more about that, but not tonight. I'm spent. Instead, I'll share the lyrics to a song that has brought me some solace the past couple of days. (You might have seen Dolly Parton perfom this at the Oscars.)

Travelin' thru

Well I can't tell you where I'm going, I'm not sure of where I've been
But I know I must keep travelin' till my road comes to an end
I'm out here on my journey, trying to make the most of it
I'm a puzzle, I must figure out where all my pieces fit

Like a poor wayfaring stranger that they speak about in song
I'm just a weary pilgrim trying to find what feels like home
Where that is no one can tell me, am I doomed to ever roam
I'm just travelin', travelin', travelin', I'm just travelin' on

Questions I have many, answers but a few
But we're here to learn, the spirit burns, to know the greater truth
We've all been crucified and they nailed Jesus to the tree
And when I'm born again, you're gonna see a change in me

God made me for a reason and nothing is in vain
Redemption comes in many shapes with many kinds of pain
Oh sweet Jesus if you're listening, keep me ever close to you
As I'm stumblin', tumblin', wonderin', as I'm travelin' thru

I'm just travelin', travelin', travelin', I'm just travelin' thru
I'm just travelin', travelin', travelin', I'm just travelin' thru

Oh sometimes the road is rugged, and it's hard to travel on
But holdin' to each other, we don't have to walk alone
When everything is broken, we can mend it if we try
We can make a world of difference, if we want to we can fly

Goodbye little children, goodnight you handsome men
Farewell to all you ladies and to all who knew me when
And I hope I'll see you down the road, you meant more than I knew
As I was travelin', travelin', travelin', travelin', travelin' thru

I'm just travelin', travelin', travelin', I'm just travelin'
Drifting like a floating boat and roaming like the wind
Oh give me some direction Lord, let me lean on you
As I'm travelin', travelin', travelin' thru

I'm just travelin', travelin', travelin', I'm just travelin' thru
I'm just travelin', travelin', travelin', I'm just travelin' thru

Like the poor wayfaring stranger that they speak about in song
I'm just a weary pilgrim trying to find my own way home
Oh sweet Jesus if you're out there, keep me ever close to you
As I'm travelin', travelin', travelin', as I'm travelin' thru

Straight Spouses, Part 2

2006-03-07T20:52:00.000-05:00

From today's New York Times:

Many Couples Must Negotiate Terms of 'Brokeback' Marriages

Straight Spouses

2006-03-04T16:29:00.000-05:00

"It's ok, you said it. That was the hardest part. I love you. It's ok."

Those were the words my wife spoke to me immediately upon hearing from me that I, her husband of ten years, am gay.

L and Elbow have both written affectionately about their wives in recent posts, and L asked me earlier about my wife on my opening post on this blog. I'd like to tell you a little bit about her, and also what I've learned about the plight of the straight spouse in a mixed orientation marriage.

My wife is remarkable, but her Mormon story is also very typical in some ways -- descendent of pioneers on both sides of her family, raised in the Church, faithful and committed for most of her life. She and I became the best of friends in college and when the relationship took a romantic turn, I was both surprised (because I knew then how difficult it was for me with women) and delighted (because, hey, maybe I'm not gay!). It was never hard to be with her and each new step we took felt natural and right. As I've worked through the guilt of keeping a secret from her for all of those years, I keep coming back to what my therapist told me when I described our romance and engagement, "Why wouldn't you go with it?" Indeed. It seemed the right thing to do, in every way.

Even physical intimacy wasn't a problem for us for most of the marriage. We eased into it so slowly with our friendship and courtship, that when it was time to perform, I wasn't afraid. It came as naturally to me as I think it could, and I felt so close to her. In fact, the relative lack of sexual disfunction in our life is one of the reasons she never really suspected that I was gay. (And once she found out that I was, she immediately opened up to the idea that there were ways to bring my homosexual desires into our sex life. I'll say no more than that, but some of the things that L has talked about with his wife have been regular parts of our conversations and considerations.)

When my life started to fall apart last year, it was my wife who demanded that I put it back together. She didn't know what she was really asking me to do, but she knew she couldn't live with a man who was so distant and withdrawn. She'd had it, and she was closer to leaving me than she or I realized at the time. Her insistence that I address my issues and include her in the process was terrifying to me. I didn't know how she would react to my news, and I feared the worst. But I was also certain that I knew this woman and that I knew her heart. So her words of love and acceptance upon receiving this devastating news from me were a relief to me, but not a surprise. They simply confirmed that I really knew her.

We entered into a period of uncertainty in our marriage after I came out. I couldn't think beyond that moment when I came out to her, and so I didn't really know what it meant for our future, nor had I spent much time thinking through what I wanted from that point forward. She was understandably fearful about our future and she wanted to know where we stood. We took a few deep breaths and decided that we would try to begin life anew and that we would envision two futures, one together and one apart. That carried us through some of the darkest moments of last fall.

At the beginning of December, I began to feel trapped. I developed serious doubts that I could carry through with the idea that we should try to stay married. More and more I realized that I wanted that for her, but not for me. I finally allowed myself to admit that what I wanted was a new life with a man--and I wanted it more than I wanted my marriage. And so we once again faced each other and I told her that we would have to end our marriage. She again reacted with understanding and acceptance, though she also went through a period of intense anger focused squarely and understandably on me.

But we got through that and are now living in a period of transition. During this period, I have made great strides toward self acceptance. I have new gay friends and have been embraced by a community that I am slowly making my own. My wife faces a much more challenging road, in many respects. There are not many resources for straight spouses. Many have been deeply hurt and betrayed--even put in grave physical danger by the extramarital sexual behavior of their gay husbands. Many have suffered years of emotional isolation and distance from their gay spouses, only to face new isolation as they begin to pick up the pieces. Until September of 2005, my wife's identity could be defined in three words: wife, Mormon, mother. In short order, she's been reduced to mother, and she struggled with motherhood for a time after I came out to her as well. A friend of mine who is married to a gay woman described the plight of the straight spouse on his blog recently. Though each experiences this in a unique way, I think he hits on many things common to all such experiences. Just as I have finally started constructing an identity that feels more natural and authentic, my wife has to reconstruct hers.

How has my wife reacted to all this? She has consistently chosen the way of love. She has consistently affirmed that this life is better than the life we knew before our hurricane. She has resisted the urge to simply toss me out. She has resisted the urge to flee. And always those urges seem to be replaced with a resolve to work together supportively and figure out what is in the best interests of our children and for each of us as individuals. And she has found her own voice and independence in a way that she never has before. She is confronting her long unacknowledged depression. She has gone back to school. She is facing her issues with the LDS Church. She has become a better mother. And she is asserting her needs, not simply waiting for life to get the best of her. She is seizing the moment.

She is, in short, a hero to me. She has faced adversity with grace and courage. She has acknowledged and experienced pain and hurt without allowing bitterness to take root. And she has allowed me to finally accept myself and find joy in my being. I still struggle on an almost daily basis with the cost that comes with all of this. But we are moving forward confident that better lives lie ahead for us and our children.

I have been reminded over the past two weeks that there will be wrenching pain during this period of transition. Letting go of marriage and a life together is extremely difficult. But we will continue to try to chose the way of love--and it is my wife who deserves most of the credit for that.

If I want, I can go to the gay pride parade in New York in June and celebrate my gay identity with my new community (however I chose to define it). My wife -- and many other straight spouses -- deserves a parade and a celebration as well. They deserve more than "I'm sorry." They deserve happiness and joy and fulfillment every bit as much as we do. They deserve our support and they deserve to have their sacrifices honored.
_______

Here are a couple of resources for straight spouses:

Wildflowers
Straight Spouse Network

Traveling hurricane

2006-03-02T21:03:00.000-05:00

I've been mulling a few post ideas in my head for a couple of days, but I'm on the road and won't have a chance to put anything together until Saturday at the earliest. Stay tuned!

The story of a hurricane

2006-02-25T20:08:00.000-05:00

In September of 2005, I told my wife that I am gay. We had been married a little more than ten years.

Like many closeted gay men, I spent considerable psychological energy over the years trying to deny my sexuality. For a long time, I was as successful as one can get in such an endeavor. No one knew I was gay -- not my wife, not my family, not my parents, not my friends. I knew, but I couldn't admit it to myself. I couldn't be gay. Being gay didn't fit with the life I had envisioned and then built for myself. So just as New Orleans protected itself from floods and storms with a complicated system of levees and dams, so too did I protect my life from my homosexuality with a complicated system of emotional levees and dams.

A series of events over the course of 2005 led to the collapse of my levee-and-dam system and shortly after Katrina hit New Orleans, a perfect storm hit my personal life and I hit rock bottom. On September 17, just a couple of days after going to a therapist for the first time to discuss my homosexuality, I sat down with my wife and told her that I am gay. And with that, the city that was my former life was flooded and completely underwater.

My wife's compassion and acceptance was the first step in cleaning up. We've drained the the flood waters and have found that not all of the city left behind can be rebuilt. Some structures will have to be torn down. Some survived, but will have to be transformed -- including my relationship with my wife. New parts of the city will be built and allowed to flourish rather than be shut off behind another system of emotional levees and dams.

This blog will chronicle the rebuilding effort, which is already well underway.