Striking the Match

Growing up in a middle class family in suburban Tucson meant that I wasn’t exposed to a lot of different lifestyles growing up. I think that was born out of circumstance more than anything. I appreciate my mission to Kentucky because I was able to see and come to know an incredibly wide variety of people. Across nationalities, cultures, religions, education levels, languages, and economic situations, I’ve got a much healthier appreciation for the many components of identity that exist outside my own. I’m able to be more compassionate as a result; I see the value in what others bring to the world.

That doesn’t mean there isn’t much more to learn, though. My exposure to the experience of transgender people has been incredibly minimal; I know so little of what trans folks go through. That’s why I’m grateful for my coworker, Catherine. She’s trans and is always very generous to share her thoughts and lived experiences. And while my association with her isn’t primarily so that I can learn how to be an ally an skip the effort of research (because that’s rude and abusive to make underrepresented folks bear that burden!), I’m so grateful these benefits sprang up naturally as we conduct our work at NAU.

Not long ago, she made mention of the sadness that exists when other people don’t recognize or believe someone’s lived experience. I don’t remember if this was in reference to what she’s been through in her own life specifically, or if it was about other marginalized groups, but I think she’s on to something. An academic on Twitter who left the LDS church to pursue a same-sex relationship has tweeted about how joy for queer people is “an act of defiance” because of the myriad forces that try to diminish or erase them and the lives they want to pursue.

People don’t thrive in shadows, no matter if it was intentionally cast to freeze them out or unintentionally created due to ignorance or misunderstanding. I’ve been so fortunate to spend so little time in societally and institutionally created darkness. I could stand to bring light to those spaces a little more earnestly than I do.

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As part of my calling, I’m touring the area with the stake presidency for all of the ward conferences that are taking place. One of the counselors who I’ve come to really like spoke in that first congregation we visited. He spoke about our divine heritage as children of God, and how that truth should trump all other components of our identities. I was pretty much on board with the narrative until a quote or two were shared about how placing too much emphasis on elements like sexual orientation can cause distraction and lead us astray.

As a person who knows several folks, including people quite close to me, who have decided to step away from the church in order to live authentically as LGBT people, I didn’t like the turn this message took. Which made it all the more stunning to me when this man asked for my feedback immediately after the meeting was over. He’s earnestly trying to understand the singles of my area so he can best serve them. Knowing he would give this same talk at least two more times in subsequent meetings, he wanted it to be the best he could be.

I sort of waffled in my feedback at first. “It was good!” I said, obviously half-heartedly. I have an abysmal poker face. He could tell I was holding back while I formulated exactly what I didn’t like.

“I’m trying to reckon with some of the quotes you used at the end,” I finally told him. There are elements of identity that don’t matter much in the long game: that I’m a car lover, my penchant for WWII historical fiction, or my incessant need to sing in the car. Strip those away, and the true stuff that my soul is made out of isn’t any different. But something as innate as sexual orientation is, in my view, something that can’t be pulled away from a person’s identity without fundamentally altering who they really are.

This stake presidency counselor was incredibly receptive to my thoughts. We had a good discussion, not only in that conversation, but again the following week at another sacrament meeting. He even ended up taking out some of those quotes that I struggled with in his next talk. I don’t take for granted that not every man in the Church would have responded to my ideas well. But it’s sad his open mindedness feels so noteworthy, because if this institution’s aim is to develop sinners into saints with the goal of exaltation on their mind, we can’t be the people who cast the shadows. We can’t spread or reinforce the darkness that so many people have to live in.

Christ is the life of the world, but he’s also the light of the world. I feel it a slight to Him and His mission to reinforce anything that's damaging to others instead of bringing solace to them. I don’t get to make doctrinal determinations; I’m not the arbiter of morality. But I also don’t get to hurt people with the way I choose to wield my privilege and power in the Church.

As I regaled my therapist with this saga yesterday he noted that the stake leadership is lucky to have someone like me in their orbit to share some constructive criticism with them. I was flattered he’d say such a thing, but also emboldened. I thought about other areas that I’ve offered feedback. Some thoughts have been received more warmly than others, but I’m treated as an adult who has worthwhile ideas. I want to offer more, make a bigger impact.

In wrapping up our session, the doc said he sees me stepping up and choosing courage at times that I ordinarily would want to demure. I talked about other areas of my life that I knew would benefit from some boldness and bravery. I know it will be hard at times, and I know I won’t be a perfect advocate, for myself or for those who need help. But the steps I’ve made so far have been meaningful in their results, but also in practicing using my voice. I want to keep striking the match, hoping it lights. I need the light and warmth, and others do too.