Rants of a "Politically Incorrect" LGBT Person - Part 2

A subtitle to this mini-series of blogposts could be: "Things I want to say but don't always feel safe to say."  And also, sometimes it doesn't feel appropriate.  I try to be a decent guy.  I don't want to rain on someone else' parade either.  But hopefully this resonates with other fellow gay people (or however you describe your experience) who don't feel like they fit the "mold" of a gay person.

I recently saw a post about LGBT oppression in anticipation of the summer Pride month(s) once again.  It's a difficult time for me.  But here are some things I want to say:

"Oh yes I understand the oppression, especially as a partner-seeking gay person who believes in an orthodox Christian sexual ethic...

"...as long as same-sex marriage is legal (which I'm fine with on various levels) and Pride is celebrated all throughout the year...celibate gay Christians are even more oppressed.  And then there are those who are in heterosexual marriages as well!  And no.  Don't try to tell me that Pride encompasses all of us (perhaps there isn't even a way to encompass all of us...and that's valid).  I shouldn't have to do a bunch of mental gymnastics to believe that I'm included in official modern Pride events.

"...no, I do not get to be lumped in with some 'heteronormative, straight Christian majority' box.  Nope!  Don't don't do that."

It is possible to feel oppressed even in the LGBT community.  I often feel out-shouted by voices that, not only try to convince members of the Church that they should (or should have) supported same-sex marriage, but that the Church itself should change their core doctrines.  Even the Church currently places "LGBT+" people into a box of "those who believe differently than we do."  That's a perpetuation that I don't like.

You know how around Mother's Day each year, when there's a group of people that bring up women who don't have children?  Although I understand, it kind of bothers me sometimes, and there's certainly not something like that for Father's Day.  Men have the seeds of fatherhood too.  But ironically, I'm finding myself succumbing to the same temptations in regards to Pride.  I want to make sure people know that although it claims to be all about "LGBT people," some queer folk still lie outside the scope.

And you know what?  I don't even know the "why" behind all these feelings of conflict.  Some people feel it necessary to jump in and define them for me, like I'm still living in denial and refuse to accept my sexuality, like I'm secretly a homophobic bigot and I'm just like the rest of those "straight, Christian, homophobic bigots."  Or there's the suggestion that, "If you don't like Pride, then don't go."

It's all more complex than that.  Parts of Pride are for me, yet I don't have the fortitude to go and select out what I like and don't like.  It's too hard.  Some of it is jealousy.  Yes, sometimes I get jealous of people.  I would love to have the confidence to strut down the street topless.  I would love to hold hands with a guy friend and walk in a public place.  Some of my frustrations are about the fact that we even need a Pride parade to express that kind of affection for one another.  Yes, the origin of Pride is part of where the world...and the Church...is today.  We all have a certain common LGBT history.

Yet there are other things, especially in Utah, that are painful.  People might not know the conflict I feel when I see an "=" sign in the name of same-sex marriage, whereas I have different feelings about what equality even is.  There are also organizations that I really struggle with.   They proudly wave the flag of "LGBT-friendly," but I wonder if they'd be friendly with me and how I see the world.  I respect their existence.  I understand that they're life-saving for some people.  I'm not going to deter anyone away from them (in fact I've even recommended them to some people).  But some of their attitudes towards the Church and people in it drive me up a wall.  It's not like I don't understand either.  Still,  I have my feelings too.  Then there are the signs that say, "love is love," or "God loves gays."  OF COURSE LOVE is LOVE!  And of course God loves gays!  There's nothing in current church discourse that tells me otherwise!  The Church has gay people in it serving in callings, in the temples, in the Tabernacle Choir, etc.  But of course, my defense is never "good enough" because of the standards regarding marriage and chastity.  That warrants an "anti-gay" accusation, but never mind who we actually have in the Church.  Some people, in or out of the gay community, are still surprised when they find out we exist.

I will say, though, that I have had meaningful experiences during Pride month that were more personal in nature.  Two of them have been while on tour with the Tabernacle Choir at Temple Square (at which time it was called the Mormon Tabernacle Choir).  In 2015, some of us were racing around in Washington, D.C. on Segways the very day same-sex marriage was legalized nation-wide.  There were a variety of feelings to accompany that day.  However I was incredibly grateful to be with the Choir on tour.  That provided a a healthy distraction from the hell that I would otherwise be involved with on-line.  I remember the following week when we were in New York City.  Some choir friends and I were on a stroll and a boat tour around southern Manhattan.  The Empire State Building and several other buildings were lit up with rainbows in celebration of Pride as well as the landmark legislation just a few days before.  It was a pristine moment as I was with friends that I enjoyed being around.  I remember seeing two guys with rainbow tank-tops as we were walking to Hell's Kitchen (on Sunday, no less).  I just felt love for them.  That was my "Pride" day.  Granted, back then I figured the legalization of same-sex marriage would mark an "end" of some sort, and that we could finally start talking about how to thrive as gay people within the Church and associated covenants.  But meh...

Another Pride day found us in the middle of San Francisco...of all places...on our 2018 tour.  The weekend we arrived, I went over to a nearby Target to get some junk food and other necessities.  I passed a Pride section of the store and found some Love, Simon merchandise (if you're interested in something rather neutral, yet educational about what it can be like to be a gay teen...I highly recommend the film Love, Simon.  This is coming from someone who was skeptical...).  So naturally, I had to get a T-shirt.  It said, "Thx Simon" in the iconic rainbow colors.  On Pride day, I avoided the parade and went to tour Alcatraz with some friends...while a few other members of the choir went to events with some LDS-themed LGBT groups who participate in Pride events.  I unashamedly wore my Love, Simon shirt underneath my required musical missionary business casual with enough buttons open to show what I was wearing.  The point I'm trying to make is that I was with people that I loved and who I knew loved me.  We had fun together.  I felt included among them.  That's worth mentioning.  There are many ways in which I feel at home among choir members.  I was nervous about being in San Francisco on Pride Day with the Choir, out of fear that someone would say something rude about gay people, or that I'd feel conflicted the other way, with some choir members who are completely into Pride.  But my fears were unfounded.  It was a splendid day.  That was my Pride.  There's something to be said for the many wonderful members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints who cling to their faith and also cling to their love for other people.

I've also had special moments when I've been on travel for work during the summer months.  I happened to be in San Antonio with a friend on the eve of San Antonio Pride.  I walked around with one of my bros from Texas (married to a woman).  And...gasp...we held hands!  Other times I've just been alone on my travel and had my own special affirmations.

I've had people tell me before that Pride naturally includes all of these experiences.  I suppose so.  But it also helps to have people who will listen to my frustrations about Pride as well, how exclusive it can feel and the acknowledgement that there are some gay people in the world who have conflicts with to outright distaste for modern-day Pride festivals.  And again, it's even more conflicting for me in Utah, seeing other members of my church advocate for things I felt I was counseled against.  It's a difficult place to be.

Another thing "politically incorrect" is that my perspective and view of my sexuality has been shifting and it's something I'm finally starting to accept.  I'm learning that it's something more complex than being "born that way" and it's also more complex than being able to change it.  I'm learning that sexual feelings just kind of are what they are and they're not "good" or "bad," although they can be powerful motivators for a variety of things, even outside of sex.  I just see them as part of my overall emotional makeup.  Yet it's lessening in importance.  I'm learning that I do not have to be constricted to a socially constructed "gay" box.  Heck, I'm even starting to feel uncomfortable when people refer to me as "gay," but at the same time if the topic is brought up, I don't see a point in avoiding that term either.  There are some lines of thought commonly associated with "reparative therapy" that resonate with me and that I understand (yet not in the context of intentionally trying to "change" my sexual orientation).  It's been a scary thing to accept that fact.  It's even more marginalization in the gay community.  But just like everything, it's complicated.  Ask me about it sometime.

Anyway, this ended up being more about Pride than I thought it would be.  I guess something else "politically incorrect" is that I have gay friends who are avid Trump supporters and even more conservative than I am.  They exist too.

Rants of a “Politically Incorrect” LGBT Person - Part 1

How do we stop racism?  Stop talking about it. I’m going to stop calling you a white man. And I’m going to ask you to stop calling me a black man.  -Morgan Freeman

OK well...some of my thoughts might fall in-line with "political correctness (like how I used 'LGBT' in my title even though I'm finding myself drifting away from seeing that as an identity)," but in the end it's just how I feel.

I do have feelings as a white man that I don't feel like I can share in many places without being attacked our countered.  There definitely are perspectives and feelings I have that seem to be "wrong," whether it has to do with LGBT stuff, race, gender, etc.  I'm trying to live according to the beliefs I hold; that each person is a divine child of God.  I'm for "equality" in that sense.  It's just that different people seem to have interpretations of what of it means.  It seems like there's a line of thought (on the left side of politics somewhere) that says, "If you don't do it this way, then you are being racist, homophobic, xenophobic, transphobic, female-phobic (if there's such a term)."  Are we "equal" by virtue of being spiritual beings?  Bleeding the same?  Worthy of love and belonging?  Or are we all to become the same with no differences whatsoever?

I was raised to see pretty much everyone as the same, or rather to look at the content of character more than external appearance or gender.  Men and women held different stewardships, but neither was more important than the other.  Yeah, I found it strange when I learned that some moms worked outside the home, but that's just because my mom stayed home...and it's because she wanted to.  I was unaware that...because I'm a man...that I had any bearing on pressuring other women to stay at home or other men to stay in the workplace.  And yet as a "white man," I'm constantly grouped in with some sort of oppressive group of men...by virtue of my gender and my skin color...it's all my fault simply because I exist.

There was a time when I looked at someone with a different shade of skin color, and I admired them.  I thought it they were beautiful!  I still try to enjoy physical differences like skin color, hair color, hair texture, etc.  I still try to appreciate them for what they are...the beautiful diversity that God created.  I can even appreciate history for what it is and feel bad for what people have gone through.

Yet now everything's been so politicized, and I'm supposed to attach a bunch of assumptions to someone's skin color or gender (including my own)...so much so that it's hard to not feel anger when see or think about skin color...this includes all the assumptions that go along with being "white."  It's said that some children learn racism from talking about racism...not being taught racism, but talking about it.  I think I might fall in the latter.  Someone close to me mentioned that she didn't think there was anything strange about playing with her Hispanic friend until her friend's mom said something about her being "lucky" that she was allowed to play with her daughter.

Wasn't it Morgan Freeman who said, "Stop talking about (racism).  I'm going to stop calling you a white man.  And I'm going to ask you to stop calling me a black man...."  Now, I'm not even that "conservative," only because skin color can be helpful in describing people, but I don't believe that it's central to who someone is.  I'll point out that Mr. Freeman also thought Black History Month was "ridiculous" and then posed the question of why there's no White History Month.  I personally see the point behind Black History Month and can appreciate it.  But I also feel like I miss out on celebrating my heritage or my skin color in the exact same ways.  To do so, however, would be an atrocity in today's political climate (yes, I've been "educated" on why there's no White History Month and why I apparently don't need to celebrate my race and ethnicity, but it doesn't mean I like it.)

Reverend Amos C. Brown, after he met with President Russell M. Nelson, said that it would be well for us to lock arms..."not as black and white, not as Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints or Baptist, but as children of God who are about loving everybody and bringing hope, happiness and good health to all of God's children."

(And are we to just write off the words of these prominent figures (who are both black) as "white supremacist" perspectives or "white fragile" perspectives?  Because I feel aligned with what they have said.  And yet those feelings have now been lumped in with "white supremacy" or "white fragility" in some supposedly "progressive" forums.  The simple ideas of "white history" or "white pride" are deemed inherently racist.  But I say racism is not in the DNA of being white or being an American.)

Now is it required that I "acknowledge my privilege" in order to "bring hope, happiness and good health to all of God's children.?"  How is self-loathing, self-shaming or even guilt for things I didn't do going to help me help other people?  Now, this is part of my unique story...discussions about privilege just bring about a bunch of uncomfortable feelings that border on self-hatred.  Maybe other people can accept "privilege" with more grace and peace than I can.  People say that the uncomfortable feelings are because of my "white privilege" and that I'm used to seeing white people in power, being the majority, etc.  But those aren't my feelings and thoughts.  Those are theirs.  I say that the uncomfortable feelings stem from the belief or expectation that my feelings aren't valid, that I can't express them...or that my feelings are already represented by a history of white male-ness, so there's no room for me to express what I feel.

I'm willing to acknowledge that I haven't had to face some things that others have.  I also face things that others haven't.  I just feel like it's too generalizing to base it all on skin color and/or gender.  I really struggle measuring privilege by a string of criteria.  It puts us into categories, and I thought people like Martin Luther King were opposed to stuff like that.

A few years ago, the Tabernacle Choir at Temple Square sang "Lift Every Voice and Sing," what is known as the Black National Anthem.  While many people of varying shades of skin color appreciated it, it also hit some other black people in a way that caused more pain.  For them, it wasn't our song to sing, as a "predominately white choir."  I don't really know how to validate them without feeling uncomfortable myself.  So what do I do with those uncomfortable feelings?  Where do I get to express how I feel as a white man?  Where can I express how I felt being lumped into a "predominantly white choir" as if it's a bad thing?  What if I'm actually offended at being called "white?"  Yet even these feelings and frustrations of mine are characterized as "white fragility" as opposed to real, legitimate feelings that deserve to be understood.

It's possible that I just don't always have the emotional stamina to engage in conversations where I just need to listen.  Perhaps it's a social media thing.  Perhaps it matters how closely involved I am with people and whether our relationship warrants such vulnerability.

I recently joined the Inclusion and Diversity Committee (IDC) at my work.  I didn't join to be sat down and be educated as a white man or help "educate white people."  I did join to learn, of course, but also to contribute and share my own unique perspectives and ideas.  While they do care about the demographics (I proudly mark the "gay" box on our yearly employee satisfaction survey...adding to the "diversity" of the agency), they also go beyond and are more comprehensive.  They shared a video about how someone should be able to share a "politically incorrect" opinion and be heard as well.  The craft part of our industry, yes, tends to be dominated by white males.  However, they are separated by distance and some disconnection with the corporate world.  Part of our efforts include reaching out to them to let them know we want to include them as part of our agency family...and discussing ways to do that.

I was impressed when, before I joined, a member of the IDC visited our Salt Lake office and pointed out that although many in our office are of the same race, even though there are more men than women...that we are still diverse based on different experiences, backgrounds and beliefs.  Our region's leadership team, at this point, just happens to be all white males.  It's not always like that.  It's just how it is right now.  But that doesn't mean there aren't diverse perspectives.

We did have some training from an outside consultant specializing in inclusion and diversity.  Some things I learned that I hadn't considered before.  Some things I liked.  Some things actually did reference men and assumptions made about them (although it was a small minority of the material).  Other parts I really had a hard time with.  It was very "left" leaning complete with up-to-date terminology like LatinX.  We did that exercise where you put yourself in the middle and put your closest friends and coworkers around you to see if they're diverse enough by way of gender, race, LGBTQ status, etc.  What do you do?  Do I go up to a black person and ask them to be in my closest network just for the sake of diversity...even if it's not genuine?  I had other issues which may or may not be included in further posts.  But luckily I had a group of coworker friends emerge from that...yes a diverse bunch of women and men (including one Latino man)...but we all shared similar feelings about this training that we had...that we didn't agree with everything and that we felt there was a sense of "man-shaming."  I felt supported in that group.

Anyway, I'm obviously passionate about this.  I'm not against inclusion and diversity and I certainly don't consider myself a conscious racist or that I'm somehow superior to people of different colors (cause I have a color too...that thought alone is considered "politically incorrect" in some places).  I certainly don't deny the existence of racism nor my efforts to call it out when I see it.  However, in some modern "progressive" ideologies, it's hard to not feel like I'm some evil person who has to repent of simply being white and male.  Yes, I'm trying to pick up pieces and help where I can in society, but I'm sick of the assumptions that are made about my skin color and my gender.  Hopefully most of us are combatting racism, albeit in different ways.  I prefer to say that there's a messy middle ground and work with that.