Alone and Unobserved

Something I constantly wonder: how could anyone meet me (let alone know me for any length of time) and not know I’m gay?

Really what this is about is my perennial wish to never have to tell family members, or former Mormon acquaintances, or old roommates, that I’m gay. Because it’s always awkward. They start reviewing every interaction they’ve ever had with me (I can see them doing it in their heads!) and the straight guys feel weird because what if I thought dirty thoughts about them! and everyone feels betrayed and on and on and on. Basically, I want to feel certain that anyone who knew me before I came out of the closet already knew and therefore already knows and therefore doesn’t need me to tell them.

Bleh. Whatever! Surely there’s no one left who doesn’t know. Right?

I don’t know how many times I’ve told my deconversion story, in whole or in part, on this blog or elsewhere, but my impression has been—for years at this point; yes, I’ve been an ex-Mormon atheist for that long now and it blows my mind—that the fundamental seed of my apostasy, the moment I first broke from the faith, was when I was about twenty-two and finally began to accept myself as a gay man.

In fact, I’ve found myself defending this position several times, when people have implicitly and explicitly accused me of leaving Mormonism so I could go “sin” and “be gay.” I’ve been forced to say repeatedly that my being okay with being gay, as the first point of doctrine I disagreed with my church on, was a (perhaps the) deciding factor, the first step in my journey away from religion, but wasn’t the REASON I ended up leaving. After all, I pointed out, there are any number of practicing Mormons who are also okay with gays or with being gay and they haven’t felt the need to leave. I left the Mormon church because I disagreed with virtually every point of doctrine, including the existence of deity.

I realized today that I’ve been fundamentally wrong this whole time. Not about Mormonism being full of shit, or about the existence of deity, or about religion being a net negative in today’s world, but about when I felt the first disconnect with religion.

It all comes back to patriarchy. You see, I was a feminist long before I realized I was a gay man. I was a feminist in the making before I started kindergarten. Why? Because when I was a kid I wanted to be a girl. When I was REALLY young I very nearly thought I was a girl. I had no interest in the “boy” things other boys were obsessed with—I wanted a Barbie and a My Little Pony and a Rainbow Brite and pretty dresses and I wanted to be a princess AND a sorceress AND an enchantress and forget that moron He-Man, I wanted to be SHE-RA.

I identified strongly with my mom over my dad, and, especially when I was super-little I had trouble accepting that my (one-year-older) sister and I were not functionally the same person. (I mean, we did everything together, and we always would, right?) So when I found out what the Mormon patriarchy expected of young women, I took it very personally.

My mom had her own visible struggles with patriarchy as well. She told us how her father was a Scoutmaster when she was a tween and she fought long and hard for the right of going on campouts with him and her brothers without success, and I watched her do her best to turn the local Young Women’s camping program into something resembling an actual outdoors exploration course.

It upset me that my mom, who was so smart and capable and (let’s face it) ambitious, especially when compared with my go-with-the-flow dad, was expected to accept a background role and take orders from all the stupid MEN around her just because she was a woman. My mom tried to be philosophical about her lot; denying her natural gifts was God’s way of teaching her to be patient, and a better person, and what-the-fuck-ever-else, but I didn’t, couldn’t buy it.

Polygamy bothered me for a similar reason. Why had men been “given” (yes, that’s right—GIVEN) more than one wife, but women were only allowed to marry one man?

Why were there so few independent females in the scriptures, which were otherwise crowded with independent men? Why were there vanishingly few female prophets?

I’m sad to say I learned fairly quickly that voicing concerns about this got me labeled as weird and girly, and I learned even quicker that these were “bad” things to be. As I got older and became more convinced that I actually was male I found myself participating in the patriarchy, both overtly by becoming a deacon at age twelve just like all the other guys, and by laughing uncomfortably at my friends’ sexist jokes. But I was still never comfortable with the whole thing, just like I was never entirely comfortable being male.

Another thing I’ve often said is that I was a “true believer” back before I started explicitly questioning Mormon doctrine when I was in my early twenties. But I’ve been wrong about that, too. I certainly tried hard enough to be a true believer—doing everything I could think of to convince myself and everyone else that I believed. Hypnotizing myself into suppressing my doubts. Testifying to others with passion, zeal and throbbing sincerity that I not only believed, I knew that the Mormon church was the true church of Jesus Christ on the earth.

But the seed had already been planted. The seed of feminism, of fairness, of this isn’t right, this can’t possibly be right, because it contradicts everything that makes sense. And once I took that next step of acknowledging that I was gay, and accepting myself for who I was, it couldn’t be held back any longer. Because if I was gay, then not fitting into the straight male paradigm was completely irrelevant! I could be as girly or as feminine as I liked. Everything else in my ex-religious journey, I’m convinced, followed from there.

The Mormon church, like almost every other existing religious sect, is fundamentally patriarchal. It is anti-feminist, anti-fairness. Anti-sense. Not just because its doctrines are not true, but in its philosophy, organization, culture and outlook. It pains me to say this, because so many people I love and value are still part of it, and have defended and will continue to defend its destructiveness to me and to others. I just hope that if enough people point out the reality of religion and Mormonism that we can make a difference in the future of girls, women, boys and men everywhere.

It’s always tiresome when a former Mormon acquaintance finds out I’m a heathen gay atheist and tries to argue with me about it—as if I hadn’t spent YEARS agonizing over my choices. (And as if they weren’t years too late at this point.) Come on. Give me some credit and assume I’m an adult and that I didn’t decide to throw away the religious doctrines and practices I grew up with and believed in firmly for twenty-odd years on some immature whim.

Or, if your own belief is so fragile you can’t accept the idea that someone might reject your religion after logical study and reasoned exploration, at least do me the favor of trying to conceal that fact from me, as frankly it’s a condescending and offensive attitude. And in return I’ll do my best to pretend I don’t think you’re a credulous idiot who hasn’t subjected your faith to critical examination.

And then maybe if we can’t be friends at least we won’t part ways as enemies.

When we see a man kissing another man, the preconceived associations in the hidden brain tell most Americans that this is not what men do. Of course, we can quickly shush our hidden brain and act blasé. But when we are juggling many things, when we are under pressure, or when we are simply busy doing something else, it becomes difficult to suppress the automatic associations of the hidden brain. At such times, the hidden brain’s rapid conclusions about the world become especially powerful. If we are asked to make a judgment about these men in some other context—their job performance, for example—we may get the feeling they are not quite right for the job without knowing how we leaped to that conclusion.

When I say “we” have automatic biases about gay people, I really do mean everyone—straight people and gay people. Just as black children tend to have positive associations with white faces rather than black faces, gay people can unconsciously harbor the same associations as straight people. This should not be cause for surprise: Gays usually see many more straight families than gay families in real life, on TV, and in books. If the hidden brain learns through repetition, why would the unconscious associations of gay people be much different from the unconscious associations of straight people?
(Shankar Vedantam, The Hidden Brain: How Our Unconscious Minds Elect Presidents, Control Markets, Wage Wars, and Save Our Lives, p. 74)

We have a long, long way to go.

“Why not just shut the he!! up about your sexual proclivity and become productive members of society.” (online comment on a recent news article about marriage equality)

Gays and gay-rights activists hear it all the time. “Why do you talk about your sexual preference all the time? You guys are sex-obsessed. You don’t hear us [heterosexuals] talking about that stuff!”

There are two responses to that: heterosexuals exhibit their sexual preference constantly, all the time, but don’t notice it; and in other cases, heterosexuals don’t need to make their sexual preference clear because theirs is the default/assumed orientation. American society (like most/all societies the world over) is deeply, fundamentally heteronormative. As with other kinds of privilege and bias, it is invisible to the majority, and may even be invisible to many in the homosexual minority. But think about it for a minute.

If you are heterosexual, you may have had to make a decision about when to tell people you are married/seeing someone. But if you are homosexual, talking about your significant other to people who don’t know you are gay is coming out. (In some places, such as the wonderful state I live in, it can get you fired or evicted. For instance.) Ditto to putting photos of your family on your desk at work or bringing your significant other to social functions.

If you are heterosexual, you grew up listening to stories and music that reaffirmed your sexual orientation again and again. If you are homosexual, you almost certainly did not. Love songs are overwhelmingly about heterosexual love. So are fairy tales. So are romance novels, and the love stories in films, and the love stories/marriages in religious texts.

If you are heterosexual, you have never worried about whether it’s safe to hold hands with your significant other in public because of his/her gender. If you are homosexual, that may be all you could think about the first time you went out on a date.

If you are heterosexual, your parents probably have the same sexual orientation you do. In fact, almost everyone you’ve known since you were a baby has had that same sexual orientation. If you are homosexual, this is almost certainly not the case.

If you are heterosexual, you probably have never been asked when you chose to be that way, or been told/had it implied that your sexual orientation is a choice and/or a sin. (If you have, it was probably a gay person ironically turning the tables on you.)

If you are heterosexual, you’ve probably never had to “come out” about your sexual orientation. If you have, those situation are probably few and far between (say, at a predominately gay party). If you are homosexual and you want to be out, you must constantly come out.

Gay people will always be a minority, wild-eyed religious/conservative rhetoric notwithstanding, which means that society will always be mostly heterosexual. But that doesn’t mean society needs to be heteronormative and heterosexist. And the way to try to achieve a mostly-heterosexual-but-not-heteronormative society is if gay people and gay allies make themselves known and make themselves heard.

Happy LGBT Pride Month. Come out as gay or as a gay ally today. Speak out. Make a difference.

Latest in the popular series “Things Patrons Do and Say that Annoy the Shit out of Me” is an episode that happened last night.

Presumptuous Patron: I have a pronunciation question for you.
Me: In which language?
PP: English. First, though—are you gay?
Me: …yes.
PP: I thought so. I work with a wonderful gay man. He’s happily partnered, though, so you can’t have him. [Cracks up at her own wit.]
Me: Oookay…
PP: When he is doing business, the way he pronounces his words, his preference isn’t obvious. When he talks with other gay men it is, but not at work.
Me: Um…
PP: Sometimes, when you talk, the way you pronounce things, your preference is really obvious.
Me: You know what? I’m not comfortable with this discussion.
PP: Well, do you want your preference to be obvious?
Me: I’m not comfortable with this discussion.
PP: All I’m saying is…
Me: I’m not comfortable with this discussion. [I walk away.]
PP: [Called after me] I didn’t mean to offend or make you angry!

This patron apparently had good intentions. She only meant to be helpful, after all! And of course she couldn’t know my history of repression, the years of trying and failing to pass as straight, to be straight, and how I finally came out of the closet and learned to accept myself for who I am. In short, she doesn’t know me—which is exactly why she shouldn’t have brought up the subject at all.

An hour later, I was watching the wonderful new Gus van Sant movie, MILK, in which Harvey Milk calls for all American gays and lesbians to come out of the closet, to stop hiding who they are, to make their presence known. The film is truly excellent, and timely as well: Milk’s main fight was against Prop 6, a referendum that would have allowed schools to fire gay teachers as well as those who supported gays or gay rights. Prop 6 failed, against all odds. Three weeks ago, we lost the fight against California’s Prop 8, in which a lot of the same rhetoric about “protecting the children” and “recruiting” and “teaching homosexuality in schools” returned to haunt us. Milk’s example is inspiring, and the movie reminds us never to stop fighting.

My name is Sean Tibbitts, and I am here to recruit you!

At my birthday party last night—YES, IT WAS AWESOME—I got into a conversation with a friend about belief, atheism, and leaving Mormonism. Both of us have resigned from the Mormon church, and both of us have had to break that news to our parents, and we compared stories of how our mothers had reacted to the news.

That conversation made me remember the I wrote to my parents when I resigned, and I realized I hadn’t looked at it since I sent it three years ago, and that I only had a hazy idea of what I had actually put in it. Turns out it was pretty long and detailed! It also turns out that it does not at all resemble the kind of letter (or blog post) I would write today if someone asked me to explain why I am no longer Mormon. But I’m glad I still have it, because the guy who wrote it three years ago was in a very hard place, and that letter (as well as the earliest posts in this blog) keep me from forgetting that he existed.

And then it occurred to me that I had never posted that letter on my blog for the whole world to peruse! So here it is. (Be kind. I was only twenty-four—the merest child.)

Dear Mom and Dad,

This letter is for you. Once you’ve read it you can decide how much of it you want to share with the kids, but I wrote it to you.

I want to tell you something you may not know about me. As I was growing up, starting when I was fairly young (about five or six), I suffered from mild-to-severe depression and anxiety. This continued all through my teenage years and into my mission. On my mission the anxiety and obsessive-compulsive elements became so strong that I began to have panic attacks, and almost decided to go home multiple times. When I asked for help, I was told that a good missionary would be able to overcome such problems with prayer. Things did get better, for whatever reason, and I was able to complete my mission.

After my mission things quickly became much worse. Even though I was praying and fasting and reading my scriptures, my depression, anxiety and self-hate continued to grow stronger, to the point where I even considered suicide. I saw a therapist, but that didn’t help—in fact, it made it worse. I saw a doctor, and he prescribed medication, which did help. Unfortunately, the side effects were so intolerable that I decided I had to learn to function without drugs.

When I asked myself why I was so depressed, I realized it was because I hated myself. I really, truly did. When I asked why, I realized it was because I was torn between my own nature and the teachings of the LDS church. I told you several years ago that I was attracted to men, but I’m not sure either of you understood how pervasive and fundamental a thing that is in a person’s life. I grew up being told that I was supposed to fall in love with and marry a woman, but that was something that only puzzled and horrified me. On the other hand, the idea of falling in love with a man was completely familiar and attractive to me from an very young age. When I really thought about it, I realized that I completely disagreed with the teachings of the LDS church on this subject: I did not think that homosexuality or homosexual relationships were any less valid than heterosexuality or heterosexual relationships.

I realized that I had always been afraid to question my beliefs; in fact, a great deal of my obsessions and compulsions centered around religious matters and making sure that I never wavered in my “faith.” As I began to hold my beliefs up to the light and seriously ask myself if I still accepted them, one by one they turned out to be nothing more than determination to believe, instead of actual belief. When I questioned them honestly they vanished, instead of growing stronger as I was always told true faith will.

This went on for a while. The short of it is, I now consider myself an atheist. I no longer hold any religious beliefs whatever. I accept myself as a gay man. I no longer hate myself, and no longer suffer from serious depression or anxiety. My obsessions and compulsions are now almost gone. I see this as a positive step, and think I have a happy, fulfilling life ahead of me.

I am dating men. All the things that were lacking in my interactions with women are available to me with men—mutual attraction, love, and devotion. I am interested in gay marriage rights, and am considering becoming politically active in the push for marriage equality in America.

As I no longer believe in the LDS church, and am in fact actively opposed to many of its teachings, I am drafting an letter officially resigning my membership. I plan on sending it right after I send you this letter. I know you asked me to only write you about uplifting stuff, but I figured you would want to hear this from me rather than from someone else.

I love you, Mom and Dad, and hope you will understand. If you don’t (and I know this is hard to swallow all in one bite) think it over carefully, and then call me if you have any questions. One thing I’ve missed a lot is a close relationship with you, and I hope we can take this opportunity to be honest with each other and grow even closer. I don’t expect you to agree with my decisions, and I respect that. I hope you can respect my right to make such decisions anyway.

With love,
Your son
Sean

P.S. Call me even if you don’t have any questions.

In honor of Transgender Awareness Day, I’d like to take this opportunity to come out of the closet.

I am a supporter of transgender rights. First, I support the existence of transgender people. The gender binary—where everyone is slotted into either “male” or “female” roles, with societally approved modes of expression and activities—is false. It does not describe reality, no matter how much certain religions talk about the sacred eternal nature of the gendered soul. Being transgender is not a disease, it is not a perversion, and it is not a disorder.

Second, I support the equality of transgender people. In many states and jurisdictions (including my own) it is still legal to fire transgender people from their job or evict them from their homes simply because of their gender identity or gender expression. Trangender people are many times more likely to be murdered than a cisgender person, and they are also far more likely to be poor, unemployed, depressed and homeless.

I would also like to come out in another sense: I am transgender. I do not consider myself exclusively male or exclusively female, and I never have. It’s time for me to be open about that. Some days, sometimes, I feel very masculine; some days, sometimes, I feel very feminine; and most of the time I feel pretty androgynous. Sure, I usually wear what our society deems “male” clothing, and I have a “male” haircut and hairstyle, and people use the pronouns “he,” “him” and “his” to describe me. But a lot of that is me trying to cover up who I really am: a person with a fairly fluid, non-traditional gender identity.

What is your gender identity? What are your thoughts on transgender issues? Will you come out today as an ally or as a transgendered individual?

That I’m in contact with any of my old friends is a miracle—specifically a Facebook miracle. It’s thanks to Facebook that I’m still in touch with former roommates, former BYU friends, former dance partners, former fellow grad students, former coworkers, former professors and former boyfriends, as well as cousins, aunts, online acquaintances, fellow atheists, fellow ex-Mormons, fellow gays and so on and so forth.

I’m beginning to wonder if this is really a good thing. I just lost a friend, primarily because of what each of us has posted openly online (see the comments on this post). She is a practicing, faithful Mormon who supported Prop 8 and who opposes same-sex marriage because she believes homosexual sex is a sin. In fact, like many other Mormons and many fundamentalist Christians, she doesn’t even believe homosexuality exists, per se. She has written a great deal about her views on her blog.

I, on the other hand, am a confirmed atheist ex-Mormon gay man who believes the Mormon church is a man-made organization that is characterized by bigotry, lies and self-righteousness. I believe Proposition 8 was motivated by intolerance and deception and homophobia, and that the Mormon church bears a great deal of the blame for its passing. Just last weekend I participated in a protest against the Mormon church’s opposition to gay rights and support of Prop 8. I have also made no secret of any of these things on my blog.

So she found my blog and was horrified and upset by what she found here, and I found her blog and was horrified and upset in my turn. I wrote a blog post in which I speculated cynically about the true reasons behind the Mormon church and its members’ opposition to gay marriage. She wrote a hurtful comment in response, in which she questioned my integrity and called me bitter and closed-minded. I wrote a cold rebuttal, which I closed by stating that I didn’t feel much friendship for her anymore. She agreed.

Are there some former acquaintanceships that are worth preserving, at least for nostalgia’s sake, but which are too fragile to handle the constant barrage of truth and stream-of-consciousness honesty that accompany an online relationship? Would Summer and I still consider ourselves “friends” if neither of us had a blog and neither of us was on Facebook? Is it possible to preserve a friendship by willfully refusing to know the truth about another person?

Just a few years ago, Summer’s devotion to the Mormon church and opposition to same-sex marriage would have been things we had in common, not things that drove us apart or set us at odds. People change. Our ideas of what friendship is also change.

And then there is my family. I don’t really discuss these subjects with them, but I’m Facebook friends with several of my siblings, and I’ve seen their status updates and the causes they’ve joined. And I’m sure they’ve seen my statuses and notes and causes. How is it possible to preserve a relationship, knowing what we know about each other?

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pvfexvihri8&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en&fs=1]

[Via yes, i am and others]