Emily’s Story
I haven’t met Emily in person yet, but I’m very excited to. Her story is beautiful, funny, honest, and well-written. I’m so happy she was willing to share! Enjoy :)
I’ll preface my story here by saying that it’s not characterized by that massive inner turmoil resulting from a battle of faith and feelings that many others experience. However, it is one that I wish I had heard when I was figuring things out. When I was in college and googling around late at night for stories of gay Mormons I could never relate much to them. I felt like all these individuals who shared their experiences, though 100% valid and inspiring, were not me.
I grew up in the church, living mostly in Utah. I would read scriptures here and there and go to Sunday meetings every week but never developed a very solid testimony of the gospel, though I did believe in God. The only part that I developed a real love for was the youth groups and weekly activities. It was another night to hang out with friends and have a good time. Girls camp was always a great time - except for those pesky testimony nights where I would just end up crying because I can’t watch other people cry without tearing up. I always passed on sharing my testimony until my final year, where instead of a testimony I just told everyone how much I loved and appreciated them.
Then there was high school. Pretty sure no one has a perfect high school experience, but I enjoyed mine thoroughly. I played tennis and was in the drumline and marching band. I’m sure part of why I had such a great time was because I had no true romantic interests or experiences to interfere. Each time that I convinced myself I was interested in a boy and would start flirting and it would lead to a date or two I would panic afterwards because it was NOT as much fun once I thought it might lead to anything more than hanging out.
High school ended on a good note and I was off to college. Though my parents are BYU alumni they never pressured me to apply or attend. It was purely my decision. BYU was actually the only college I bothered applying to because it seemed like the next logical step for me. Tuition would be a lot cheaper, I’d get a great education, it was fairly close to home, and I’d be around people that shared my values. I was still completely oblivious to the fact that I was ~quite~ gay. Why wouldn’t I go to BYU?
I signed up for classes. I got a bed in Heritage halls. As soon as I knew I would be attending I practiced nonstop to audition and became a part of the BYU drumline and marching band. Little did I know at that time that the friendships I would make and the experiences I would have on the line would be my saving grace towards the end of my BYU journey. I was pumped to start this next chapter in my life.
Classes were good, but the praying in academic settings seemed like a bit of a stretch to me. The church activities and get-togethers that I had once loved so much completely shifted. I was very annoyed to find myself suddenly tossed in the middle of a bunch of kids just looking for their husband or wife. Bishopric members and their wives wouldn’t even be subtle about it. I quickly grew sick of going to Sunday meetings where the lessons were always some form of chastity talk, or how to prepare to be a good wife and mother. I was enjoying anything church related less and less each week, while simultaneously beginning the very slow process of realizing that I was gay.
This was another one of those things where I felt I differed from other gay people. I didn’t have a lightbulb moment. There was no “oh no I think I’m gay” or anything like it. I have found it hard to describe to people because there was no point of clear realization that almost every other gay person seems to have had. It was slowly, over the course of a couple years. Some back and forth. Never any true panic, guilt, or shame about what I thought I might be. Because I never thought about it as explicitly as “I’m gay” - I just slowly realized that the feelings I had towards some girls were much more romantic in nature. And I didn’t have a problem with it. If anything, it turned into something I viewed as a cool part of myself that I sort of treasured. Not a secret that I was keeping or had to tell anyone.
What about my own family? What would they think? I was fairly confident that I wouldn’t face rejection or judgement. My father prides himself on not being a cookie-cutter Mormon with his intact hairline and great dislike for those who judge others for not fitting their mold. My mother is the most loving, selfless, and caring individual I know. Both my parents had always been incredibly supportive of me in every way thus far. I was lucky enough to not have that fear of being disowned that so many others in my shoes must grapple with. So why didn’t I say anything for another couple of years? I didn’t want to rock the boat. Life was humming along well enough for us all. I saw absolutely no point in making any kind of declaration or statement. I knew I liked girls, but I could like guys too, right? I could still end up with a guy and no one would ever know any different.
Narrator: But she was not into guys in that way. Not in the slightest.
My long coming out process eventually began with that freshman roommate, over a year after we had stopped any romantic aspects of our relationship. She was staying with me at my family’s house for a few weeks in the summer and I sat out on the porch one evening and told her, going off a bulleted list of points I wanted to make sure I hit. That I was gay and I liked girls, but still liked guys. I believe I described it as being 60/40. Girls barely ahead. That I was coming out to her and not trying to profess any sort of crush. Her reaction was a plain, “I still love you, it changes nothing”. No complaints there, but I was pretty underwhelmed. After reading so many stories of people who came out and had their life turn around, it seemed like that wasn’t really the case for me. Everything was still the same. Probably because I only came out to one person who definitely already knew. I let another year pass before I finally came out to my parents, now afraid of being underwhelmed again by something I thought would be a much bigger deal. I was also sabotaging myself with the idea that I wasn’t keeping a secret. I was well prepared to be honest and tell anyone that I was gay if they bothered to ask. But no one did. I mean, who just bluntly asks about those things?
I was unaware of how heavily it was weighing on me. It was at the forefront of my mind every day, while I was telling myself that it didn’t matter. That sort of thing drains you. I spent the whole year in between coming out to my friend and my parents building even more emotional barriers for myself. There was no event that spurred it, but in the spring I decided it was as good a time as any to tell them. I wrote a note and put it on my parent’s bed for my dad to find once he returned home that day. This time I described it as a 70/30 split, girls really taking the lead now. I think I just really hated the word “lesbian.”
I’ll preface my story here by saying that it’s not characterized by that massive inner turmoil resulting from a battle of faith and feelings that many others experience. However, it is one that I wish I had heard when I was figuring things out. When I was in college and googling around late at night for stories of gay Mormons I could never relate much to them. I felt like all these individuals who shared their experiences, though 100% valid and inspiring, were not me.
I grew up in the church, living mostly in Utah. I would read scriptures here and there and go to Sunday meetings every week but never developed a very solid testimony of the gospel, though I did believe in God. The only part that I developed a real love for was the youth groups and weekly activities. It was another night to hang out with friends and have a good time. Girls camp was always a great time - except for those pesky testimony nights where I would just end up crying because I can’t watch other people cry without tearing up. I always passed on sharing my testimony until my final year, where instead of a testimony I just told everyone how much I loved and appreciated them.
Then there was high school. Pretty sure no one has a perfect high school experience, but I enjoyed mine thoroughly. I played tennis and was in the drumline and marching band. I’m sure part of why I had such a great time was because I had no true romantic interests or experiences to interfere. Each time that I convinced myself I was interested in a boy and would start flirting and it would lead to a date or two I would panic afterwards because it was NOT as much fun once I thought it might lead to anything more than hanging out.
High school ended on a good note and I was off to college. Though my parents are BYU alumni they never pressured me to apply or attend. It was purely my decision. BYU was actually the only college I bothered applying to because it seemed like the next logical step for me. Tuition would be a lot cheaper, I’d get a great education, it was fairly close to home, and I’d be around people that shared my values. I was still completely oblivious to the fact that I was ~quite~ gay. Why wouldn’t I go to BYU?
I signed up for classes. I got a bed in Heritage halls. As soon as I knew I would be attending I practiced nonstop to audition and became a part of the BYU drumline and marching band. Little did I know at that time that the friendships I would make and the experiences I would have on the line would be my saving grace towards the end of my BYU journey. I was pumped to start this next chapter in my life.
Classes were good, but the praying in academic settings seemed like a bit of a stretch to me. The church activities and get-togethers that I had once loved so much completely shifted. I was very annoyed to find myself suddenly tossed in the middle of a bunch of kids just looking for their husband or wife. Bishopric members and their wives wouldn’t even be subtle about it. I quickly grew sick of going to Sunday meetings where the lessons were always some form of chastity talk, or how to prepare to be a good wife and mother. I was enjoying anything church related less and less each week, while simultaneously beginning the very slow process of realizing that I was gay.
This was another one of those things where I felt I differed from other gay people. I didn’t have a lightbulb moment. There was no “oh no I think I’m gay” or anything like it. I have found it hard to describe to people because there was no point of clear realization that almost every other gay person seems to have had. It was slowly, over the course of a couple years. Some back and forth. Never any true panic, guilt, or shame about what I thought I might be. Because I never thought about it as explicitly as “I’m gay” - I just slowly realized that the feelings I had towards some girls were much more romantic in nature. And I didn’t have a problem with it. If anything, it turned into something I viewed as a cool part of myself that I sort of treasured. Not a secret that I was keeping or had to tell anyone.
- I had feelings for some friends in high school and then in early college that I mistook for some kind of platonic admiration. The classic ‘Do I want to be like her or do I want to be WITH her?”
- I would search the internet for evidence or stories of gay people attending BYU (did that even exist?!)
- Took probably almost every Buzzfeed quiz titled something along the lines of “How gay are you?”
- I got very close to a freshman roommate. We talked through the nights. We cuddled. We even kissed. Like a lot.
What about my own family? What would they think? I was fairly confident that I wouldn’t face rejection or judgement. My father prides himself on not being a cookie-cutter Mormon with his intact hairline and great dislike for those who judge others for not fitting their mold. My mother is the most loving, selfless, and caring individual I know. Both my parents had always been incredibly supportive of me in every way thus far. I was lucky enough to not have that fear of being disowned that so many others in my shoes must grapple with. So why didn’t I say anything for another couple of years? I didn’t want to rock the boat. Life was humming along well enough for us all. I saw absolutely no point in making any kind of declaration or statement. I knew I liked girls, but I could like guys too, right? I could still end up with a guy and no one would ever know any different.
Narrator: But she was not into guys in that way. Not in the slightest.
I was unaware of how heavily it was weighing on me. It was at the forefront of my mind every day, while I was telling myself that it didn’t matter. That sort of thing drains you. I spent the whole year in between coming out to my friend and my parents building even more emotional barriers for myself. There was no event that spurred it, but in the spring I decided it was as good a time as any to tell them. I wrote a note and put it on my parent’s bed for my dad to find once he returned home that day. This time I described it as a 70/30 split, girls really taking the lead now. I think I just really hated the word “lesbian.”
He walked in the house later and I said hi, then ran upstairs to get in the shower, knowing what he was finding and reading. I was sweating and silently crying when I heard a knock on the door, with my dad gently saying that he loved me, and he’d be out in the yard if I wanted to talk about anything. I went out to join him. He told me it didn’t matter to him at all and that he had even had his suspicions the past few years. It came as more of a surprise to my mom, who I told later that evening when she returned to the house from work. But not a complete shock. She told me that for a whole week she had been having thoughts and promptings that she needed to talk to me about this sort of thing but didn’t listen or act on it because it seemed out of the blue. To be fair, I don’t look or act very stereotypically ‘gay’. It was out of the blue. It still wasn’t a total sigh of relief for me after coming out to them, but it did feel better this time. I didn’t feel like there was a huge part of me they didn’t know anymore.
Phew. I could breathe easier for a bit. Then life kept moving along and I shut myself off again. Another year passed by where I got some more schooling done and took a semester off to live in Ecuador with my family. Even with all the amazing experiences I was trying to fill my life with I found myself getting detached and depressed frequently. I found time that year to come out to my older brother and younger sister who were accepting and loving but sympathetically referred to it as a tough problem to have to deal with. It made me not want to tell my little brother, because I didn’t want someone else to feel sorry for my circumstance.
I was back home in Utah for the spring and broke down in tears one day when my mom asked me if I was okay. I didn’t respond with my regular ‘yep, everything’s good’. Everything was not good. My mom listened to me and talked with me, and we decided that maybe trying out a therapist could help. So, I did. I had bottled up my entire life without knowing that I was doing it. I didn’t know what to talk about or how to talk about it. Thank goodness that’s exactly what therapists excel at.
I was back home in Utah for the spring and broke down in tears one day when my mom asked me if I was okay. I didn’t respond with my regular ‘yep, everything’s good’. Everything was not good. My mom listened to me and talked with me, and we decided that maybe trying out a therapist could help. So, I did. I had bottled up my entire life without knowing that I was doing it. I didn’t know what to talk about or how to talk about it. Thank goodness that’s exactly what therapists excel at.
I told her how I was never a very religious individual, but church was so interwoven with my entire childhood and young adult life. How I was feeling torn after having been taught all my life that the gospel is an all or nothing kind of deal. I didn’t think I was going to hell or whatever, but I was taught lessons my whole life by church leaders on how you can’t pick and choose when it comes to the gospel. You have to follow ALL of the commandments. You have to make ALL the righteous decisions. Yes, there is the atonement, and that is wonderful for those mistakes we all make. But I hadn’t even acted on my feelings yet and I certainly didn’t feel like it would be a mistake to do so. I wasn’t a delinquent. I had no desire to go wild and off the beaten path. But I did want to experience real love in that way. That therapist helped me to take that first step in viewing things from a healthier perspective. She encouraged me to consider how God is fully aware of the hand that He dealt me for this life. I can still be a good person and do good things with my life like I so desperately want to. Being gay doesn’t affect that. Falling in love with a woman doesn’t change that.
Another couple of weeks passed. I attended my grandmother’s funeral the day after my birthday and packed my bags, heading out that afternoon on the road to Kentucky for a summer internship. Once again I stashed any emotions away for some other day. I had stopped going to church by this point because it eased my stress on Sundays. I was doing everything else right in life. The grades, the internship, the volunteering, the jobs, the hobbies, you name it. None of these things were filling that sad pit in my heart when I would try to fall asleep every night though. So one of those nights as I was laying there on the other side of the country, half listening to a podcast to fill the silence, I texted my little brother a short coming out message. His response began with, “Hey that’s great!”, and I balled.
No one that I had come out to by then had treated it as an exciting or happy thing. Apart from my dad’s response, they had all roughly sounded like, “That’s tough but we can get through this”. Those few words from my little brother were the most meaningful by far. Like me, he didn’t necessarily see it as an arduous road ahead, or a challenge for me to overcome. He thought it was great. I felt validated. I had thought to myself so many times that it was an exciting and fun opportunity to experience life the way I had the chance to. I get that he was probably just being a 15-year-old boy saying that it’s cool and all, but I took it and ran with it. It felt like a big win.
I came out on Instagram shortly after that, not feeling like I wanted to tell the world - more so just not wanting to have to come out individually to more family and friends. I felt refreshed to come back home at the end of the summer, out to everyone I knew, still loved by friends and family, ready to crush my last two semesters at BYU. The drumline family I had there was a huge thing that kept me going strong.
Even with the classes, assignments, work, and extracurriculars, I found myself growing bored and anxious. I wanted to finally date a girl. Or at least see what was out there. I did something I told myself I’d never do and downloaded Tinder. How else was I supposed to do it at BYU? Ha. It was only a couple days before Maddy found me.
The rest of that year flew by. If I wasn’t tied to Provo with any of my obligations I was driving to Salt Lake to hang out with her and get to know her better, falling in love with her more and more each day.
I managed to skirt around having to go to church my last year at school, spending my Sundays visiting family elsewhere or spending time with Maddy. To be safe I did go in for a ‘get-to-know-you’ interview with a bishopric member of the ward I was supposed to be in. He asked me my major and my year in school. When I replied that I was a senior his eyes widened a little and I knew where the conversation was heading before he even asked his next question. Was I going on many dates? He tried to indirectly remind me that my time was running out. So much for getting to know me. More like they wanted to keep tabs on who they still had to try and pair off before they were too old to get a nice husband. My fake friendly face that I had put on to walk in there and indulge them was gone. I was infuriated by him diminishing my time at this university to a failed search for a husband. I had nothing more to say to him. I became stiff and politely wrapped up our meeting. A real smile soon returned to my face on my way out of the building as I remembered that I had a date with my favorite girl later that evening.
I graduated. I dislike it when people say that they were able to ‘escape’ or ‘make it out’ because I genuinely did learn a lot, have wonderful life-changing opportunities, and made beautiful friendships while I was there. However, I do understand that others have had very different experiences and I respect that, and my sympathies and love are with them 100%. I’m grateful for the lessons I learned, both in and out of the classroom. And I’ll never be able to describe how grateful I am that everything played out the way that it did in my life so that I could meet my perfect partner. The girl who makes my heart race and puts a smile on my face every day.
I still do believe in God. Not a God that is expecting you to check off certain boxes. I believe in a God that cares for you and loves you unconditionally. A God that is in your corner rooting for you as you try to figure this life out. A God that is excited for you to always keep growing and learning, to find your success and joy.
Another couple of weeks passed. I attended my grandmother’s funeral the day after my birthday and packed my bags, heading out that afternoon on the road to Kentucky for a summer internship. Once again I stashed any emotions away for some other day. I had stopped going to church by this point because it eased my stress on Sundays. I was doing everything else right in life. The grades, the internship, the volunteering, the jobs, the hobbies, you name it. None of these things were filling that sad pit in my heart when I would try to fall asleep every night though. So one of those nights as I was laying there on the other side of the country, half listening to a podcast to fill the silence, I texted my little brother a short coming out message. His response began with, “Hey that’s great!”, and I balled.
No one that I had come out to by then had treated it as an exciting or happy thing. Apart from my dad’s response, they had all roughly sounded like, “That’s tough but we can get through this”. Those few words from my little brother were the most meaningful by far. Like me, he didn’t necessarily see it as an arduous road ahead, or a challenge for me to overcome. He thought it was great. I felt validated. I had thought to myself so many times that it was an exciting and fun opportunity to experience life the way I had the chance to. I get that he was probably just being a 15-year-old boy saying that it’s cool and all, but I took it and ran with it. It felt like a big win.
Even with the classes, assignments, work, and extracurriculars, I found myself growing bored and anxious. I wanted to finally date a girl. Or at least see what was out there. I did something I told myself I’d never do and downloaded Tinder. How else was I supposed to do it at BYU? Ha. It was only a couple days before Maddy found me.
The rest of that year flew by. If I wasn’t tied to Provo with any of my obligations I was driving to Salt Lake to hang out with her and get to know her better, falling in love with her more and more each day.
I managed to skirt around having to go to church my last year at school, spending my Sundays visiting family elsewhere or spending time with Maddy. To be safe I did go in for a ‘get-to-know-you’ interview with a bishopric member of the ward I was supposed to be in. He asked me my major and my year in school. When I replied that I was a senior his eyes widened a little and I knew where the conversation was heading before he even asked his next question. Was I going on many dates? He tried to indirectly remind me that my time was running out. So much for getting to know me. More like they wanted to keep tabs on who they still had to try and pair off before they were too old to get a nice husband. My fake friendly face that I had put on to walk in there and indulge them was gone. I was infuriated by him diminishing my time at this university to a failed search for a husband. I had nothing more to say to him. I became stiff and politely wrapped up our meeting. A real smile soon returned to my face on my way out of the building as I remembered that I had a date with my favorite girl later that evening.
I graduated. I dislike it when people say that they were able to ‘escape’ or ‘make it out’ because I genuinely did learn a lot, have wonderful life-changing opportunities, and made beautiful friendships while I was there. However, I do understand that others have had very different experiences and I respect that, and my sympathies and love are with them 100%. I’m grateful for the lessons I learned, both in and out of the classroom. And I’ll never be able to describe how grateful I am that everything played out the way that it did in my life so that I could meet my perfect partner. The girl who makes my heart race and puts a smile on my face every day.
I still do believe in God. Not a God that is expecting you to check off certain boxes. I believe in a God that cares for you and loves you unconditionally. A God that is in your corner rooting for you as you try to figure this life out. A God that is excited for you to always keep growing and learning, to find your success and joy.
Hey Em! I loved your story! Thanks so much for sharing it. I've been wondering how you've been and have been hoping that life is treating you well. I'm so happy that you're being your true self and finding true happiness. It's definitely not easy living in the church culture with all its lists of dos and don'ts that shame you or question you for not fitting in just perfectly. Like you, I believe in a God that looks at us with more love than we could ever imagine and He's proud of us for doing our best to be true to ourselves and live our best life. No boxes to check, no molds to fit in, no shame. I'm proud of you and I'm very excited that you've found happiness, joy and love in your life. I've always wished the best for my family. Love you cousin! -- Jesica ❤
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