Indignation and a "Disturbance In the Force"

Over this past weekend I felt an increase in my sense of indignation regarding what I consider to be fear mongering, perpetuation misinformation, and outright lying--to name a few--by individuals and organizations that fight against LGBT rights, including same-sex marriage. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has been among these, and I found myself particularly focusing on the arguments they made during the push for California's Proposition 8. All of this seemed to reach a near "disturbance in the Force" kind of level with my soul. I decided, Monday, to finally write a brief letter to my new bishop along with providing him copies of the disciplinary council decision from 2001 when I was officially disfellowshipped from the body of the church and a copy of the letter I sent to the last bishop I spoke with about my sexuality.

I was wondering why I felt this way; I was trying to figure out why I suddenly had these feelings and thoughts come on. At first I thought it may be a combination of my depression, continuing to work out my appropriate medication levels, following the updates from Facebook friends on the progress of the Perry v. Schwarzenegger court arguments, and having met with my Elders' Quorum President on Sunday for a standard quarterly PPI (personal priesthood interview). Perhaps it is part of all these. However, given what came out today in Perry v. Schwarzenegger I feel perhaps I somehow sensed this coming.

From PRIDE In Utah!:

Even after Pro-8 counsel fought furiously to keep them hidden, documents from within the LDS/Mormon hierarchy were ruled as valid by Judge Walker today. The first was an email detailing that the Prop 8 Campaign was “entirely under direction of the priesthood!” As the email was read it, detailed incredible details, such as the fact that the Mormon church had a “key-leader in every zip code in California,” organizing the efforts of pro-8. The document also describes plan for grassroots organizing based on church wards led by ward priests. Apparently, the LDS church had an average of 20,000 volunteers walking neighborhoods at any given time.

The 2nd document is a record of the minutes in a meeting of the LDS officials. It details that Mormons were “not to take the lead, but to work within the coalition” in order to minimize negative impact on the church. In otherwords, the documents make it clear that 2 way flow of info between the campaign and the church was regular, but church pretended to lay low. The LDS church pushed for the campaign to privde the talking points, but it would provide the volunteers.

I have been upset before about what has been revealed about the involvement of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Proposition 8. Now, however, my indignation is just at its max. It's not anger; it's not hatred. Indignation is the only word I have for it. I am blown away by the level of hypocracy and lies this shows from the institutional levels of the organization that is The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I am seriously ready to let loose on the next person to accuse the LGBT community of picking on, twisting words of, or smearing the name of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The organization seems all too ready to do that to itself, and every serious, rational accusation made has so far been confirmed--and then some. I also will have nothing to do with those who argue they are fighting not a civil policy but a moral issue. Those who choose to fight so unethically, and with such blatant hypocracy, have no right to even try standing on claims of morality.

"Gone But Not Forgotten": Sex, Intimacy, Affection

The other night I watched an Indie gay film titled Gone But Not Forgotten. Over the past few days and nights I have been thinking of the effect the movie had on me. (I will try to avoid plot spoilers.)

The story is basic enough: Drew Parker, a forest ranger, rescues mark, a man with amnesia who fell from the cliffs. Their friendship soon becomes more, but their romance is threatened as Mark's forgotten past comes back to claim him.

Other than Mark's amnesia, the plot uses very little, if any, complex or stilted plot devices. Also, being a low-budget Indie film, some quality is lacking at points and there are at least two scenes I feel the actors' deliveries were a little flat. However, I still found it all very touching and profound. I have not been able to stop thinking of how it made me feel and what I think about issues of sex, intimacy, and affection.

For starters, some of the things I found enjoyable about the film was what it lacked from most other gay cinema. There weren't any bars, dance clubs, back rooms, or "fabulously" outrageous drag queens that all too often dress the scenes. There weren't bitchy drama queens, mannish lesbians, or youth obsessed twinks filling out the cast. Other than some natural nods to the usual angst of being gay men and the final explanation of what sent Mark to the mountain, the story could easily be have been about a heterosexual couple.

What struck me the most was the development of the relationship between Drew and Mark. If it were not for knowing the film is gay cinema, the romantic connection between the two men doesn't begin to become apparent until nearly thirty minutes into the film. That the writer and director take the time to show the men developing a friendship into a romance is something I have rarely seen in gay cinema. My experience is most of the time the relationship seems to start with sex and everything else comes later. Even when the romance becomes known there is a delay and development before any sex actually occurs. There is a real sense of a meaningful relationship developing, not just a flurry of passion and romance.

When the characters do actually have sex it is probably the only such scene I have seen in gay cinema I really feel should be called a "love scene." Most other films seem to rely on the styles and modes used in porn. While I know some who would call this particular scene pornographic, there is a definite difference in how it is handled. The montage is slow, deliberate, caring, affectionate, and really portrays two people joining together in intimacy--not just getting off together.

This is the difficulty I have with much of the portrayal and discussion of sex in both gay culture and general society. The sense of intimacy, affection, and emotional impact often seem lost. Sex seems more like an itch to be scratched. Now, I'm not pure on this either. I've had more than my share of sexual partners over the past eleven years. The vast majority of them have been out of a desire to appease my libido, and it is because of these experiences that I strongly believe sex needs to be treated as something more than a biological urge.

I often hear the argument that men are better at separating sex from love. While I'm sure there is some supporting research surveys, this does not describe me. For me, physical touch is inextricably linked to affection and intimacy. I remember in my adolescence wishing I could hug my friends to show them how I cared about them, but I didn't as such displays are not considered appropriate, especially between boys/men. One of the things I actually liked about my mission was that the Elders would actually hug each other. Although I understood why, I didn't like it when my mission president said we shouldn't be doing it so often, especially in public. My desire and need for physical affection and intimacy are such that, although it would be difficult, I would rather go without sex for the rest of my life as long as I had someone to hold, and who would hold me back.

This is what watching Gone But Not Forgotten has evoked in me: seeing such a portrayal of affection and intimacy brings up such a powerful yearning for it myself that I feel physically ill when I think about it. It is not a matter of libido; although, it is not divorced from it either. It is not about sex; although that is a natural extension and expression of what I yearn for. As Drew puts it, "I just want somebody to come home to. Somebody that wants to come home to me too. That when they walk out that door, I know that they're gonna walk back in again."

Body Image

As a preface, I want to say this entry is perhaps one of the most difficult entries I will ever write. I am a very open person, in general. I usually find myself holding back on what I feel comfortable talking. This, however, is a topic I feel much shame about, and it is because of that shame I feel I need to start addressing it more directly.

I've never been a skinny person; I've always been at least "chunky." Even in my teenage years, when I slimmed up a bit due to growth spurts and the exercise I got in marching band, I was overweight. I still remember being measured for my colorguard costume at the beginning of my senior year and my waist being thirty-nine inches. I still consider the photograph of me in my costume to be the best picture ever taken of me. When I performed my senior-year Winterguard solo for a school assembly a friend told me how someone next to him said, "He's the fat, gay guy." In elementary school kids called me "sumo" on the playground. (Although, breaking with the stereotype, I actually enjoyed dodge ball and did fairly well at it.) I also felt very self-conscious around my step-mother, who was always trying to lose those ten or twenty pounds most middle-age women have.

It is my birth mother I keep coming back to as the root of the damage that has been reinforced through almost every stage of my life. I remember her being very blunt about my weight and size. One incident that sticks out very clearly in my mind is when I was about six or seven, after my parents' divorce and she was allowed visitation under the supervision of a social worker. I don't remember exactly what my mother said. I know it was something about my size, or how I needed to lose weight. I was so upset with her I got out of my chair and kicked her in the shin. Looking back, I think this was a major incident in the social worker telling the courts it wasn't healthy for us children to be visiting our mother. Even after I was no longer keeping direct contact with her she would send me herbal diet supplements--usually nasty, bitter herbal teas.

As I've discussed this history with therapists, it seems there is no wonder why I have such a deeply shamed-in negative body image. It haunts me where ever I go, coloring almost everything I do. I almost always seem to have the thought in the back of my mind wondering how many people are looking at me in judgement and/or disgust because of my weight. Intellectually, I can reason that the number is probably not that high, but emotionally it is difficult to feel people don't look at me the same way I look at myself. Our general culture is bad enough with how it enforces unrealistic body images. Just the other day I was with a friend at the grocery store and we stopped at the magazine rack. We took a moment and really looked at some of the covers and how unrealistic the models looked with all the air brushing and Photoshop work. I particularly took notice of the cover of the latest Men's Health Magazine. I was horrified at the level of computer work they did on the photo. I wonder if they even bothered with a model, or if they just generated the whole thing electronically.

It's even worse as a gay man. The culture is deeply youth obsessed and steeped in body worship. Porn stars are held up as idols and the yard stick by which to be judged. I know this is an over generalization, but it is difficult to see past it when the entrance to the dating scene is covered by signs saying "NO Fatties!"--and other qualifiers I will leave out to keep this blog reasonably family friendly. Perhaps the most shaming thing about all of this is the hypocrisy I feel with myself. While I so deeply resent being treated the way I am because of my weight, I realize my judgements and desires are much the same. I may not be at the level of some--refusing to even consider someone with a waist size of 30 or more, or requiring a large genitals to body fat ratio--but I still find myself looking at the magazine covers and not wanting to settle for less (or more, as the case may be).

I've tried to go on diets, only to be so crazed with cravings I felt like I was going through the DT's. I had times when I wished so desperately to lose weight by any means I wished I could bring myself to be bulimic. (Part of me feels weak and even more shameful for not being able to even do that.) Exercise is difficult as I really don't enjoy it for the most part. The exercise classes I have taken I usually find to be run at an energy level I just simply can't maintain.

I did find something of a release from all this shame for a time. In the fall of 2004, I read Coming Out: An Act of Love by Rob Eichberg, Ph.D. In the second chapter, Dr. Eichberg has a questionnaire asking the reader to respond to questions about how they feel about such things as being worthwhile, lovable, telling the truth, etc. Each question is to be considered in the context of the reader's childhood, adolescence, and present feelings. I took the time and care to actually sit down and write out my responses. I did it without editing what came out. In some cases I didn't realize what I wrote until after it was on the page. One response came out in a very shocking way, and I have felt so much shame for even thinking this that I have never shared it before with anyone outside of therapy.

Q: How do you feel about being lovable? Do you feel that there is anything you have to do, be, or say in order to be worthy of love?

A: I keep seeing in my mind that if I had a better body things would be different. If I wasn't so fat, if I was more muscular, if my penis was larger things would be better. Basically if I was porn star worthy my life would be good. I'd be able to find a boyfriend who really loved me. I would have a far better social life. I wouldn't be so depressed, alone, and hating myself every time I see or feel the huge stores of fat on my body. I would be able to like myself.

I remember how surprised I was at my response. I physically felt a jolt of electricity pass through my brain as I finally pulled all these issues to the surface of my consciousness. After this things began to change. It wasn't all at once. Over the next year I let go of the sense of being judged by others and much of the shame I held for myself. I stopped worrying so much about what I ate and realized I started eating better. I got into an exercise routine that worked well for me and I was able to reasonably enjoy. I even pulled together the confidence to start asking guys out on dates. By the end of 2005 I had lost forty pounds, going from 280 to 240 pounds, and went down to a size 40 waist from 48.

But it didn't last. Over the past few years I've gained the weight back and now weigh around 290 pounds and my waist size is back to 48. I get basically no exercise these days, and I can easily say I am in the worst shape of my life. Just walking a few blocks can leave me with aching legs and short of breath. I keep wondering what happened to stop and reverse the progress I made. Maybe I can blame my depression, hypothyroid, or some other things. Mostly, however, I think it was the changes in environment as I moved from place to place. When I had my epiphany and made good changes I was in places where I had the space and convenience to choose what I was going to do and how I would do it. I was also surrounded, mainly, by people I didn't feel any negative judgement from. Things began to change when I moved to a place where I felt the judgement and didn't have the space and convenience to do quite as I chose. Perhaps this is why the issue has become something that demands to be faced now. Over the past few months, and especially the past couple weeks, my situation has changed to be an environment where I feel even more restricted and judged.

Trying to Prove the Truth of My Existence

On my way up to visit family for Christmas, I was looking for a passage in Practice in Christianity by Søren Kierkegaard. (I didn't find what I was looking for; when I do I'm sure I'll blog about it.) I came across a passage about recognizing truth (or ignoring it) when it is before us:

Pilate asks Christ the question: What is truth? ... That it can occur to Pilate at that moment to question Christ in this way demonstrates precisely that he has no eye at all for truth. ... [F]or in questioning Christ in this way ... he makes the self-disclosure that Christ's life has not explained to him what truth is--but how then could Christ with words enlighten Pilate about this when that which is truth, Christ's life, has not opened Pilate's eyes to what truth is! ... The question is just as foolish ... as if someone were to ask a man with whom he was standing and talking, "May I put this question to you, do you exist?" ... And what should that man really reply? "If someone by standing and talking with me cannot be certain that I exist, then my assurances cannot be of any use, since, after all, my assurances are certainly something much inferior to my existence" (XII 187 - 188).

As I read this, a parallel struck me. It is a similar phenomenon with those who sit and argue against many things, refusing evidence and testimony against their beliefs. In particular I thought of those who deny the evidence and testimony of those who are homosexual. (I was thinking of this as I will be spending this Christmas in the company of a family member who holds to such views and opinions.) Often such people make the argument that homosexuality is a matter of psychological dysfunctions, childhood trauma, maladjustment to sexual maturation, etc. Such arguments are usually used to discredit the claims and testimony of those who are homosexual. As I remember one person putting it, "I am not considered a credible witness to my own experience."

I have looked at and experienced these kinds of judgments from communities often involved in making these kinds of arguments. From my own experience, and discussions with such people, they want to make homosexuality not exist (at least within their sphere of perceptible reality). As the infamous Utah Senator Chris Buttars said, "I don't mind gays, but I don't want them stuffing it in my throat all the time and especially in my kid's face." As I would translate it, "I say, 'I don't mind gays,' so as not to seem like a total bigot, but I don't want them to exist, let alone know of their existence." The Uganda bill to criminalize homosexuality as a capital offense goes even further. It is not just a fight to push away what they consider un-reality from their perception; it is an attempt to actively stamp it out through force. Even this fight is fueled by the argument that homosexuality is a choice, a dysfunction, a disease to be treated.

Rachel Maddow did a series of segments on her MSNBC show, The Rachel Maddow Show, about the influence of US change therapy advocates shaping the Uganda bill. As is shown, those who try to argue change therapy and the illness model of (and why I make a point of including it here) turn to--what I consider to be--charlatans, yes men, liars, and people otherwise unfit to be considered any kind of authority on the subject. As Rachel points out, these people are using "made up, fake, authoritative stuff that ... is being taken as science."

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To bring this to more of my personal life, this is why I have not been able to have any kind of meaningful contact or correspondence with the mentioned member of my family: to be so thoroughly dismissed, to have my life and existence thrown out as un-reality leaves me at a loss as to how I may be able to say anything more. In a profoundly frustrated and hurting way, I admit I most likely cannot say anything at all. I do not know how to express the pain when someone who has been so close to you in life suddenly says, "Do you exist?" Perhaps a better way to put it is they seem to say, "I know you do not exist."

In the end, and why I think the passage from Kierkegaard struck me when I read it, all we can do is exist. For such people who refuse to listen and acknowledge us as reality we cannot say anything. And perhaps this is why some of such people come around when they no longer know of homosexuality in the abstract but begin to know homosexuals in person. Like Christ (with no intention to be blasphemous with the comparison) we cannot respond with words and rhetoric. It is our lives as we live that shows them what reality is or is not.

And this brings me to the last point I will make in this entry. The fact that it is our lives, not our rhetoric, that shows reality is why I take issue with parts of gay culture (to use a broad term). We fight to show ourselves as meaningful, productive people, yet so many do not show it in how they live their lives. This is also part of why I believe in the importance of same-sex marriage rights: the gay community needs the opportunity to be held to rights and responsibilities to show themselves a worthwhile group. This is not to say it cannot be done without marriage rights. However, marriage is the institution where the issues of living in respect of love and sex--the issues of sexuality--are most directly given opportunity to be shown and proven.

Some Snide Thoughts About Christmas at Church

Today, my ward had their Christmas program in Sacrament meeting and Sunday School. If I had to paint it, well, it would all be in shades of beige. Even so, I had a couple somewhat silly thoughts during the morning I want to share.

The Sacrament Meeting program started with a woman talking about all the bustle, decorations, and waiting for Santa that comes with Christmas time. She then said, "It's all too easy to forget why we celebrate this season." I came very close to muttering under my breath, "To appease the Pagans?"

In Elder's Quorum, the teacher had us go one at a time saying our names and what we did. I said, "I've been unemployed for two years, play Dungeons and Dragons, just opened an Etsy.com storefront, and deal with trying to get medical needs covered." What I had thought of saying was, "I've been unemployed for two years. On the side, I'm a raging heretic and a social gad-fly."

The Better of Equal Options

Wednesday at my group counseling session, I told the group about how I had met with my bishop and how I planned on attending church meetings so I could network with the ward for job leads. The conversation from there went easily to dealing with our LDS backgrounds and how to deal with LDS authorities, especially bishops. I talked about how I found the encounter easy to deal with as I went in with a very specific goal and topic. I wasn't there out of a sense of duty to "confess" or "repent." One member, who is active in his ward, talked about how he believes the bishop is not necessary for salvation/exaltation. I really liked how he talked about how one should only go to the bishop with problems and issues when one is inspired to do so (not shamed or guilted). The bishop, he said, is there to be a person of guidance and teaching. He is not the one who absolves our guilt or cleanses our sins.

At the end of the session we do something called "check outs." This is an opportunity for every member to articulate what they are taking away from the session and mention anything they would like to keep discussing the next time we meet. At this session, as people took their turns, I had a profound Spiritual epiphany. I don't know why it came then. Perhaps it was the discussions about dealing with going to church meetings, the position and powers of church leaders, or perhaps me talking about how I planned to attend church to network with the ward. What came to me was an answer to a question I've carried with me for over four years.

As I've written about before, back in 2005 I came to an understanding of what general path is best for me to take with my sexuality. It came from a process of prayer, fasting, and totally surrendering myself in being willing to accept whatever answer came to me. Although the answer came out clear, one thing that I have always wondered was why out of the options none of them were considered bad or wrong for me. The only difference was that one was "best" for my spiritual growth for this life and into the next. Even then, I understood the "best" was only something ever so slightly better than the others. Ever since then I've wondered why this particular option, to embrace my sexuality and even seek out a male partner, is "best." Wednesday, it just came down on me. It was one of those moments of understanding, when knowledge and understanding just comes. This option is "best" not because it will put me, per se, in some position of better spirituality or better attitude for salvation. All in all, when it comes to only me, all options were equal in what their path would do for me spiritually. The difference, where the "best" came from, was what this path will allow me to give to others. As I have felt for some time, there is a need for the gad-fly. I am not talking about being disruptive, contentious, or a nucence. What is needed is a voice of reason and moderation both in the LDS community and LGBT culture.

Going to Church and Meeting With My Bishop

Sunday, I attended my local ward meetings and met with my bishop. I did this all to see what the bishop could do to help me, if anything.

Church meetings went well. I found the ward to be very friendly and welcoming in general. People quickly noticed me as new and made sure I got to where I needed to go. Even the bishop noticed me before Sacrament Meeting started and stopped to talk to me. The only incident that was of note happened during Gospel Principles class. The topic was "The Family: A Proclamation to the World." I was tense when things started as the proclamation is often pointed to and used as a weapon against homosexuals. At the beginning of the class the usual rhetoric of "The family is under attack" was thrown out. What got to me was a comment regarding "Gender is an essential characteristic of individual premortal, mortal, and eternal identity and purpose." The man sitting next to me said he took it as a point to accept the way he was made. While I could spin that response to all kinds of things, what got me was that he was going with the same subtext of "I was born with this genitalia, therefore I must be these certain ways." Personally, I find this attitude at the center of sexism, even hetero-sexism [1].

In response I said, "I'm not saying this to be controversial or contentious, but we need to be careful not to be overly simplistic about this [2]. I wonder if they are talking about gender or sex. Those two terms tend to get conflated. We need to be aware that many people are born with indeterminate sex [3]." My comment seemed to go over well. Many people even told me they liked my contribution to the class.

In the afternoon I met with the bishop. I told him how I hadn't attended church meetings in over two years. I told him how I had been dealing with medical issues and unemployment for two years. (Nothing about my sexuality, or even any specifics about why I hadn't been attending came up in our discussion.) I then told him the purpose of my wanting to speak with him was to see if there is anything the ward could do to help me find/afford a place to live come next month. He told me the current policy of the LDS church is not to give direct assistance in housing, with the exception of perhaps the occasional utility bill. The economic condition even effects the ability of the church to give aid. Above all that, the church only really gives direct assistance for people who are active, tithe paying, etc. I told him I understood. Even with that he continued to talk around in a few circles about how he wouldn't be able to offer anything more than perhaps a food order from the Bishop's Storehouse. As I have been approved for food stamp assistance, I told him I was not in need of that kind of assistance.

After about three loops of him telling me about how he isn't able to help, he then went to a kind of testimony about how he's glad to see me at church and how I'll be blessed if I'll continue attending because he's been so blessed for attending church meetings through his life. I told him how I felt the past couple years of being away from church activity had been necessary to keep me away from experiencing a great amount of direct harm. (My subtext, of course, being the drama and attitudes around Proposition 8.) The bishop then started into his testimony how much he has been blessed by church activity. He seemed to catch himself saying, "Your experience may not have been the same." I replied, "I wouldn't expect to be."

The entire experience of going back to church, speaking up in Sunday School, and meeting with the bishop was all surprisingly calm for me. I would be lying if I said there was no tension. I felt it. However, I kept my composure, didn't have any moment where I felt like I was going to freak out, and even felt rather empowered. Perhaps it was the anti-anxiety medication. Perhaps it was that I was there with a specific purpose and didn't need anything else, and I was ready to accept "no" as their response. Maybe it was both. In the end it felt like a kind of subtly important experience to feel in control and not really threatened.

Waiting to meet with the bishop right after me was the Ward Employment Specialist. I spoke with him for a couples minutes before he went in. I told him about my training/schooling and what kind of work I'm looking for along with what I'm not looking for. I gave him my e-mail address and phone number and he gave me his phone number along with a referral for at least a part-time job he knew about off the top of his head. It was at that point I decided I would attend church for the next while. I realized the ward is a ready made society I can network in. I know how to move and work in it, and the members, by virtue of them being members, are very willing to give basic help. I don't know if I will be bringing up any issues about my sexuality directly. I'm sure something will eventually be said, and I will not be able to ethically refrain from responding.

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1: Although some would label me as a "feminist," I prefer the term "anti-sexist." I do not believe in women or men being superior to the other. I even argue that men are also trapped and pidgeon holed by the social mores feminism fights against (see Myth of Male Power by Warren Farrell, Ph.D.). I believe, in many ways, our application of the labels "male" and "female" to traits and attributes almost arbitrary and often pointless. I also believe that much of the arguments against homosexuals is the same basis of classic sexism. All together, I use the term sexism as an umbrella whenever I believe any gender or sexual orientation is (wrongly) held as superior to others. More specific terms: feminist, masculinist, heterosexist, and homosexist.

2: One of my difficulties in dealing with religious people is the simplicity they insist on dealing with things. In the case of "The Family," they take the simple statements given in the document as the end-all discussion on the topic. While I understand the simple nature of the document, I do not accept it is the entire discussion. God and the universe are far more complex than can be contained by a single sentence.

3: Most people are unaware of the issues surrounding inter-sexed people. From what I've studied, about 1.5% of people around the world are born in some way with indeterminate sex characteristics.