Andy's Story

Andy is a new friend of mine who I instantly bonded with. He's a kind, positive, uplifting man who I am very glad I met and can keep getting to know. Check out his story.

There is so much to tell that trying to condense it feels daunting. I have always been aware of my sexuality, but it never interfered directly with my life until I was expected to start dating after the mission. Before my mission I was able to piously defer dating until after I had served a mission, and no one thought twice (actually…several people thought twice; I learned that I was the topic of conversation among some ward members and the bishop). The only time I’ve allowed myself to lie without feeling terrible about it was when, in a preparatory interview for my mission, the bishop asked me point-blank: Are you gay? I knew the answer was yes. I felt trapped. If I answer honestly, I won’t go on a mission; my parents will be disappointed; I’m not ready to deal with this. “No.” I stammered. A lie. I abhor dishonesty, and am saddened that it came to that. I am sad that kid had to handle that much pressure without feeling like he had anyone in his corner. I had survived up until then, though, and I was determined to continue to do so. 

So, I went on a mission to Milan, Italy (not bad, right?). It was during that time that I began to view my sexuality in terms of emotional attraction as well as physical attraction. As I got closer with companions and other missionaries with whom I shared an apartment, I began to realize that I was capable of love and what loving someone felt like. It’s strange to say it like that, perhaps, but it had never occurred to me before that falling in love was something for a boy like me, too. But there he was. Attractive, caring, fun…I looked forward to seeing him. To talking with him. To just being with him. It was at once exhilarating and terrifying. He did not return my affection, of course, as he had a girlfriend waiting for him at home. 

After my mission, I made my way to BYU where things became a little more serious. With no interest in dating women (I had always determined that I would remain celibate, and that was the end of it), people began to talk. So, I gave them something to talk about. I had already come out once before to my high school friends (which is where the rumor mill picked up the bit that got back to my bishop), and so I would come out again. Thankfully, my roommates (one in particular) were incredibly awesome about it. One of them was okay with it as long as I was staying with the church and not giving in to that “lifestyle” (more on that later), but the other one was like “I’m so glad you finally told us.” He remains a good friend. Others weren’t so kind (a little more on that later, as well).

So, when Kelly asked me to write a post, I asked for specific direction, because I’m type-A. She gave me the prompt to write what I thought people trying to reconcile sexuality and spirituality might need to hear, so I want to do that in the context of things I have come to believe to be true from my experiences growing up as a gay Mormon man. This I believe:

That you are still righteous

My church attendance the last year of my time at BYU was admittedly becoming perfunctory. By that time, all of the friends I had made were graduating, moving, or getting married, and I was left tired and alone in a ward of practically strangers. “I can’t keep doing this,” I thought, “I don’t belong here.” My attempts to make friendships with anyone in my ward were stymied by my having come out in a very public way singing an original song at a ward talent show: “Is this kiss worth my place in Heaven? Is Heaven worth living alone for?” I sang, and people walked out of the room. In spite of this, I continued to attend (somewhat faithfully); I graduated, moved to Salt Lake, and began attending a ward with a friend I met on my mission in Italy. In the back of my mind, though, I had started to wonder how long I could realistically follow the mandate to “not act on” my sexuality. A year or so later, the ward was split, and I was assigned to a different ward from all of the friends I had made. Facing the prospect of starting over, I had the conscious thought that this was the moment where I need to decide what to do. Around this time, a friend mentioned to me that BYU was hosting a symposium for gay students. At the symposium, during the audience comment portion, a man stood up and began by gesturing to the person sitting next to him, “This is my son. My son is gay. My son is no longer an active member of the LDS Church. And my son is a righteous, good man.” It was a simple sentiment, but it was a lightbulb: I can still be good. The thought had seriously never occurred to me before, but it felt right. It was at that moment that I felt very strongly God telling me: “It’s okay to leave. You are responsible for what you have learned here, so go and do good.” So, reader, you are still righteous. You can love God and a human being who shares your gender. You are responsible for what you have learned. Go and do good. That leads me to my second belief:

That the “Gay Lifestyle” is a myth

I think, if I were being honest with myself, a part of what took me so long to come to terms with the idea of leaving the church was the misguided thought that there was a strictly bilateral “gay lifestyle” and “good lifestyle”. I suspect that many people feel this way. I have heard/read numerous people within the church (some of whom are also gay) bemoan the “gay lifestyle” as a peril to be avoided and the reason that membership in the church is the better, if lonelier, choice. I also suspect that they are conflating “being gay” with sexual profligacy, wrongly believing that any sort of deviancy they believe to be immoral, straight people outside of the church certainly aren’t participating in. Wrong. Drug culture, sex positivity, et al are found in straight communities just the same. Even members of the gay community have been so culturally brainwashed to believe what mainstream society has defined gay culture to be that they only see two options: celibacy or drug-fueled orgies. The virgin or the whore. That leads us to fear embracing a part of who we are for a fear of who we are not. The amazing thing is that we get to determine what our “gay lifestyle” looks like. My gay lifestyle is going to work, going to the gym, and going home to eat a peanut butter sandwich and watch Bob’s Burgers. On the weekends, my gay lifestyle includes going grocery shopping, hanging out with friends, and maybe drinking a cocktail. If you don’t want to do drugs, don’t. If you don’t want to have sex with multiple people, don’t. If you don’t want to do drink, don’t. Pay attention to your own moral compass, and realize that everyone has their own north star they’re trying to follow and that your choices and their choices do not have the same moral weight. 

That “God” can be found outside of brick buildings on Sunday

I’m a music person. I write songs to make sense of things, and I’ve written hours of music devoted to the marriage of sexuality and spirituality. Had I not been born gay to a Mormon family, I don’t think I would have had anything to write about, so I’m eternally grateful for God’s wisdom in seeing that my talents were put to good use. Looking back, music saved me in a very real way as I, a Mormon growing up in suburban Missouri, came to terms with the fact that he was very much a gay Mormon growing up in suburban Missouri. I was able to curl up and find safety in the songs of Tori Amos* and eventually my own songs that gave voice and understanding to the emotional tumult I was experiencing. Coming to terms with and being cognizant of my sexuality were two different things, however. I always knew that I was drawn to men. When I was younger, I remember hating the sound of my voice. I thought, if I speak, they’re going to know. They’re going to hear it in my voice, and they’ll know about my secret. And that’s where music stepped in: through it, I was able to find a voice and discuss things I never would have allowed myself to say with words alone. It’s in the space where the songs come alive for me that I feel most capable of communing with the Divine. I’ve never felt closer to God than when I’m with a piano. And I still love a good hymn! Whatever “God” means to you, he/she/it can be found through creating or appreciating art, through stretching your physical/athletic limits, through learning, through perfecting a craft/hobby, ad infinitum. Find what it is for you, and let it become the cornerstone of your personal religiosity outside of the context of organized religion. 

*seriously, Tori is so good. If you need a good song to make you feel things here are some songs to start with: Silent All These Years; Winter; Little Earthquakes; Baker, Baker; Hey, Jupiter; Twinkle; 1,000 Oceans; Gold Dust

That no matter what, everything is going to be ok

There was a time when I was out driving around, and, when stopped at a stoplight, I looked up at the evening sky through my sunroof. I remember being overcome with the feeling of peace kind of out of the blue. In my mind, the phrase came “everything is going to be ok.” I don’t think I had believed that up until that point, but it has turned out to be true. It is through the darker moments in life that I’ve become more resilient and come to understand and appreciate light. I wouldn’t trade my scars for anything. Sometimes it takes sitting down with Darkness to understand what she has to teach us; it can be excruciating at times, but I’ve come out of every disappointment, every dark moment, and every setback with a new understanding about myself and what I’m capable of; as it turns out, we’re a pretty amazing creation capable of overcoming incredible odds. I’m grateful for the gift of being able to look back and say, “We made it out, and we’ll have to do it again eventually, but for now, I am grateful for the light after the darkness.” 

There’s much more I could tell, but I think I’ve said enough. In a nutshell, I’m grateful for who I am and the experiences I’ve been able to have that have brought me to this moment.