Alone and Unobserved

“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.

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

[Via yes, i am and others]

I have no words for how disgusted I am at the Mormon church and its despicable hate- and fearmongering on the topic of Proposition 8, which would amend the California state constitution to take marriage rights away from same-sex couples.

During a Wednesday satellite broadcast, young Mormons were fed the same tired lies and misleading spin that have proven so effective in the “Yes on 8″ campaign*. They were also urged to to “go viral” on their online social networks and blogs. “I must admit I don’t know how all this works,” wrinkled, out-of-touch and irrelevant Mormon ‘apostle’ Russell Ballard said, “but you do.”

If Ballard knew anything about anything at all (i.e., if he were relevant), he would know that faithful Mormons have already “gone viral” with their church’s message of hate and intolerance. (He would also know better than to use the phrase “go viral.” It’s SO 2003.) But one can always do more, and try harder! Accordingly, Facebook “Yes on 8″ groups have proliferated, and half of my BYU friends’ Facebook statuses are “is following the prophet & voting Yes on Prop 8!!” (I’m wondering which of us will un-friend the other first.)

My opinion on the subject is very simple: if marriage is a religious institution (which Mormons will tell you was established in the Garden of Eden, when God married Adam and Eve), then why is the government involved in it at all? If, instead, marriage is a civil institution as far as the government is concerned, why do we give a flying fuck how a group of closed-minded religious bigots say it should be handled?

Today is National Coming Out Day in the U.S. This is an excellent opportunity to come out to someone—or everyone—around you as queer or as a queer ally—and a great way to do that is by publicly opposing Prop 8. In Ballard’s words, “I hope you will go viral. I hope you will engage.”

* See MormonsforMarriage.com for an essay-length discussion and refutation of the principle arguments against same-sex marriage used by Mormon leaders and the Yes on 8 campaign.

I spent the past two days at the Pride Festival in Salt Lake, getting sunburnt and stuffing myself with greasy State-Fair-type food. Saturday I just kind of mooched around, listening to music and surveying the booths. I watched the Righteously Outrageous Twirling Corps (ROTC) of Salt Lake perform (righteously outrageous, naturally), followed by a group called Cavedoll (off-pitch, but enthusiastic), and lastly Meshell Ndegeocello (groovy/funky).

Cavedoll

Meshell Ndegeocello

Yesterday morning I watched the Pride parade with Craig (which is when a great deal of the sun-burning happened, for both of us). Some of the floats were fun, but somehow huge gaps appeared between each of the participating groups, which meant we had to stand in the hot sun for several minutes at a time twiddling our thumbs before the next float filled with half-naked go-go dancers showed up. SO HARD TO BEAR, THIS WAITING.

Craig and Me

“Yes, you too can be a lesbian!! Inquire within.”

After the parade, we went to the Festival and hung out with two gay BYU students as well as with Scot and Rob (of UtahCog), their twin boys and various relatives and friends of their family. (I need to learn how to take photos when people are facing me. I’m working on it.)

Alan and Scot

Rob, Scot and Brian

Right before we left, I stopped by the “Gay Latter-day Saint” booth and stuck another pin in the Catania, Italy mission with my name on it.

Anz. Tibbitts
Catania, Italy

Utah Pride 2008 Flickr set

Last night I saw Kung Fu Panda in the theater (fun, but nothing special) and Atonement at home on DVD (OMG AMAZING THERE ARE NO WORDS). And then I went to sleep, ready to go back to work this morning.

I’ve had this week off of work, and, as it turned out, I mostly took the week off from blogging, too. Sorry! In any case, nothing especially exciting happened: I did a lot of reading, a lot of working out, a lot of eating nutritious, filling foods, and a lot of sleeping.

Today I picked up my new glasses, and got a new, larger labret stud. I’ll post pictures as soon as I can take one that doesn’t make me look like a complete schlub.

One thing I haven’t done yet this week is shopping. So tonight I raided the fridge and threw together a salad of spinach, quinoa and baked tofu, with a dressing made of salad oil, soy sauce, vinegar and a pinch of vegetarian soup base. I grated some pepper and pecorino cheese over the top and voilà! A healthy dish that was pretty okay!

This weekend is the Pride Festival in Salt Lake. I am charging my camera battery as I type, in order to be prepared for the wild and outrageous fun I’m sure to have Saturday and Sunday.

Last week, the California Supreme Court struck down the state’s ban on same-sex marriage. This is an especially wonderful moment for me, because, in a way, it undoes whatever damage I did by helping fight for Proposition 22 in 2000. That’s right: I, a gay man, campaigned to pass a referendum designed to keep gay couples from marrying in the State of California. In my defense, I was young, very Mormon, very self-hating, and about to leave for two years on a Mormon mission. Our church leaders were urging us to join the fight, and I was happy to oblige.

During the strongest push for the referendum, I attended a debate on the issue at the local community college. The “No on 22″ side was represented by a very gay man (boo!) and the “Yes on 22″ folks were represented by Bonnie Park, a fellow Mormon and school-board member who had achieved some notoriety in the ’90s as the proponent of “Sex Respect,” an abstinence-only sex-ed program (yay!). I remember raising my hand a few times and asking that misguided gay man some tough questions, and feeling superior when he wasn’t able to say more than “Gay marriage is already against the law! Why a referendum to ban it?”

Looking back, I’m ashamed at how I put him on the spot. Maybe he should have been more prepared (after all, in my conservative Southern California community, he should have expected tough questions) but he also had a point: Bonnie Park and her allies (including me) were striking out, not at gay marriage—which was already against the law—but at “the gays” and “the gay agenda.” And now conservatives are rallying again, around the same standard: gays want special rights, they have an agenda, they’re promiscuous, they’re filthy, their relationships don’t last, don’t matter, don’t count.

Conservatives don’t respect sex. They fear it. They are deeply, desperately afraid of it. They fear any deviation from the norms they have ordered their lives by, because if those norms are arbitrary then their entire lives have been a lie. But I refuse to coddle them and their childish refusal to see the truth. Sex is something every person has to confront, and part of being a grown-up is coming to terms with one’s sexuality and deciding how to express it. It is time the conservatives grew up. It is time for this nation to grow up.

Part of growing up is accepting the truth, and the truth is this: Gay people are here. Gay people matter. And gay relationships count.

I was reading a post on my friend David’s blog about the the current legal controversy in Greece over the use of the word “Lesbian” in the name of gay rights group Homosexual and Lesbian Community of Greece (OLKE). After discussing the implications of the injunction the Lesbians are seeking against the lesbians, David ends with this delightful quote from the Guardian article:

“Thank God Sappho was born on Lesbos, not Rhodes,” says Sandra, on holiday from Leeds with a group of friends to celebrate her 60th birthday. “Or we would be stuck being known as Rhodesians.”

This led me quite naturally to thoughts of my mother.

While she is neither lesbian, a Lesbian or a Rhodesian, she did live in Malawi, a former British colony greatly affected by Cecil Rhodes and his imperialistic ambitions. Her friend Cheryl moved there with her family for a few years so Cheryl’s father could help set up a system of standardized tests to replace the old, culturally biased exams imported from Britain. Afraid of being “the only white girl in Malawi,” Cheryl asked my mother to keep her company, which my mom was only too happy to do.

I grew up hearing stories about the expatriate high school they attended, the friends they made, the servants they had and the food they ate. She took the British O-Levels and failed most of them (as she had had only a few months to prepare), but she was the only female to pass the physics and chemistry O-Levels in Malawi that year, and she achieved the highest score in the country on the maths. She went on to complete a year of college at the University of Malawi.

My mom, circa 1973

We were talking about her experiences in Malawi just last week, when my parents and sister came up for my graduation, and for the first time I realized that she had lived twice in a military police state: first in Malawi under the reign of “His Excellency the Life President Dr Hastings Kamuzu Banda” and then on her Mormon mission to Uruguay in 1973, during Juan María Bordaberry’s military dictatorship. In Banda’s repressive régime, women were required to wear skirts (no pants!) that covered their knees, an experience that probably prepared her her time at BYU during the reigns of Ernest L. Wilkinson (motto: “To the knees, please! And purge the gays!”) and Dallin H. Oaks (motto: “Love the gays! But also purge them.”).

I got the April issue of the tooleriffic magazine Details the other day. Why I have a subscription to Details is not the point (was there some kind of free promotion? and was Details really the best of the lot? the mind boggles); just accept that fact that, once a month, my mailman does his level best to wedge the magazine—glossy and homoeroticism-laden—into my minuscule mailbox. (We REALLY won’t be getting into why I also have a subscription to Complex, which occupies an enviable position between Maxim and Details in the “for the discerning douchebag” hierarchy.) Normally I don’t even open it, instead just tossing it aside like a two-pound junk mailer, but this time I did a double take. Wedged in with “The Ultimate Vegas Cautionary Tale” and “What You Need to Know before Buying Your Next Suit” was this provocative headline: “Would You Really Be Okay if Your Kid Was Gay?” Of course I had to read it.

Two fathers were interviewed for the article, with each of their contributions prefaced by progressive, open-minded credentials: “Jerry” is a “Hollywood liberal,” drives a Prius and supports Obama; “Geoff” is a New-York history professor and author. The former produces TV comedies and “might as well be the mayor of Gayberry,” because he worries if there aren’t any gay people on set; the latter “is surrounded by a veritable gay army” consisting of his friends and publishing contacts, who are “[g]ay, gay, way gay,” according to him.

What kind of progressive credentials are these? This smacks of the facetiousness with which white people argue that since they “have black friends” that makes them open-minded and accepting. A note to straight people: listing all the homosexuals you associate with makes it sound like you are completely hung up on these people’s sexual orientation. Saying they are “gay, gay, way gay” only heightens that impression.

And then we get to the way the fathers were just, like, TOTALLY uncomfortable when their sons pushed any gender boundaries. “Geoff” was disturbed when his son watched the Hannah Montana movie “with a little too much glee”; “Jerry” was worried about his son’s desire to dress as a princess at Hallowe’en, but his fears were allayed when his son attacked another child who made fun of him—apparently violence is masculine enough to outweigh dressing up as Cinderella.

What the article really highlights, more than the repressed homophobia of any particular parents, is the not-so-well-disguised homophobia of the author, or perhaps of his audience—the readers of Details magazine. Also, Hochman’s sloppy, amateurish writing.

So what does this tell us? Anyone could have guessed that readers of Details are homophobic idjits (in spite of the reverent homoeroticism splashed across every other page). But I think this illustrates a real problem: if guys who think they are progressive—or who think it’s important to be thought of as progressive—still have this kind of reaction to their gay children, what hope do the gay children of the truly closed-minded have?

I was lucky. My dad never made fun of me, even when I was dressing up in high heels and playing diva, or learning to needlepoint, or taking ballroom dance. But I never felt that he was comfortable with me, either. To be honest, though, I’m not sure how it would have been to be understood by my father, or what a straight father “understanding” his gay son would even look like. A man’s masculinity and virility are very tied up in his sons, so how can he react to a son who doesn’t conform to society’s conception of what is masculine and virile?

In a way, I suppose, this is just an extreme example of the learning curve all parents face: your children are not tiny replicas of yourself, they are developing human beings with their own personalties, thoughts and desires. You won’t always understand them. Adults have to learn to deal with babies, toddlers, teenagers, twentysomethings; fathers have to learn to communicate with their daughters, mothers with their sons; and sometimes heterosexual parents have to learn to love and accept a homosexual child. THAT IS GOD’S PLAN. Amen.