For Coming Out Day

I came out as bisexual a little over two years ago with the intent of reminding those I went to church with that they might not always know who they hurt when they express homophobia in Sunday School or from the pulpit. I figured my life would stay pretty much the same, except I could talk about my crushes on women more openly. I'll admit that's mostly been the case.

The fact is, it's not over. It never will be. Unless I never meet another human again, I'll be coming out constantly because the default assumption will be that I'm straight. Especially at church. It can be frustrating (to say the least) to be so invested in an organization that is so often hostile (consciously or not) to queer believers, talks about us as if we're not there, and still tells us that they love and want us.

Even though I've made the decision to stay in my church, I don't want to keep it a secret. I shouldn't have to. I've dated wonderful, worthy, understanding people who haven't been deterred by it. (Guess what? Dating men doesn't make me not bisexual.) And I hope that I can help make it easier for other LGBT+ folks to feel at home in faith communities.

It's worth it to me to stay at this time, and I'm in for the long haul, but it's definitely not that way for everyone. Until it is, here's to those who've come out, and to those who can't right now.

I'm Stuck

It's been so hard to write. I spend most of my time trying to retain everything I'm learning (thanks, brain fog). It's almost impossible for me to do the academic writing, too. I'm not sure I have too much to say about anything lately, and if I do, it's dried around my hands and gotten too solid to properly shape. 

New Year, More Me

2016 was really hard. I'm responsible for part of it. In an effort to try to graduate "on time," I signed up for more classes than was healthy, and then I didn't keep up with a lot of the stuff that helps me cope with my illnesses and life. So naturally, it got hard to cope. It made me a bad student, a bad friend, and generally miserable. There's at least one instance when I should have been hospitalized, but that didn't happen. It wasn't all bad, though. I started working at the LA temple, went on an awesome vacation with my family, and spent good times with old and new friends. I'm doing better now and I'm starting to get the right support systems a more reasonable schedule in place. I know I won't graduate when I'd planned, but I'm okay with that. In 2017, I'm hoping to do more of the things that keep me healthy, sane, and more myself so I can be more helpful to others.

Hello. It's Me.

Today is my 25th birthday. But it's also 11:50, so as you read this, it's most likely that yesterday or any number of days past was my 25th birthday. It's also likely you've heard me worry for the last seven months about what getting to 25 with this collection of neurons and relationships and experiences and debts might mean. For now, I'm choosing to just be glad to be here, with whatever degree of acknowledgement necessary to the times I never thought I'd make it past 19. or 21. Or 24. I'm letting all those worries and experiences and battles with my body be like the fallen coastal redwoods I saw while on vacation with my family last week: something that needs to break down slowly so that they can nourish all of the good things growing from the same ground for years to come.

It can be hard for me to find reasons to celebrate myself, but I'm working to be gentler on myself and on creating the life I want for myself. Also, totally out of character, I did not make a plan for my birthday weeks in advance. Or even days in advance. With the day all but gone, I still don't know what to do for my birthday with anyone outside my immediate family. While I work on that, could you still do one of these things to commemorate my 25th trip around the sun*?

• Participate in the worldwide indexing event, especially if English is not your only language.
• If you live far a way from me, give me your address so I can write and mail you a letter! (Or bug me to do it if I already told you I would.)
• If you live nearby, bug me to get out of the house more. Or to have me invite you over to my place for a movie or ice cream or something. (Joining Team Mystic on Pokemon Go is not required, but is definitely a bonus.)

*There's a lot of "bug me to do this" kind of things, but I need other people to remind me to do the things I want to do more than the average 25-year-old, but I am accepting that I am not an average 25-year-old, even in the ways that frustrate me. I'm really bad at asking for the time I need to give you the attention and love I want to. Reminding me that you actually want that love and attention helps a lot from where I am in the early stages of 25.

Can You Imagine?

I remember memorizing Doctrine & Covenants 64:9-11 as a sophomore in high school for my early morning seminary class. Forgiveness as a Christian virtue made sense and I more or less left it there until I came across it in a recent rereading (I'll include verse 8 and my own emphasis): 

"My disciples, in days of old, sought occasion against one another and forgave not one another in their hearts; and for this evil they were afflicted and sorely chastened. Wherefore, I say unto you, that ye ought to forgive one another; for he that forgiveth not his brother his trespasses standeth condemned before the Lord; for there remaineth in him the greater sin. I, the Lord, will forgive whom I will forgive, but of you it is required to forgive all men. And ye ought to say in your hearts—let God judge between me and thee, and reward thee according to thy deeds."

I can admit that my first thought upon reading this was from Hamilton:

Forgiveness. Can you imagine? 

At the time of that reading, it was a little easier to imagine forgiveness because I had watched a friend forgive a lot of people who hadn't done right by her. Not at all easy to imagine because of the situation, but because of the grace and love shown in such pure and immediate mercy. The idea snowballed: can I do that? Could I forgive myself for not being a good friend at that time? Could I forgive someone else for not understanding me sometimes? For not knowing something they had never been taught? For disagreeing with me in matters close to my heart? So I tried it. I tried to quietly think of old quarrels or not-quite-forgotten hurts to see what would happen if I just imagined what it would feel like to forgive those I was upset with. Keep in mind that I started small. The Spirit of the Lord must have been with me, because suddenly, the forgiveness was real. The anxiety and hurt faded, and it felt like I had more light in my soul; more space. More space for love and for creativity and progress. I liked how it felt. I liked that I could have that peace without waiting to drudge up the issue with the other person. It felt like leaving it up to God.

And so it still goes, months later. I haven't been able to get these verses (or that song) out of my head as I face a life and a time where there is so much to forgive of so many people. Doesn't it seem impossible? In some cases, it's still very hard to imagine. In other cases, it comes a little easier. I'm relieved that I don't need to know the whole story of these negative experiences right now. As I try leave more of the judgement to God, I am less burdened with the festering angry anxiety of enmity against anyone in any measure. It allows me to move forward with a little more ease than before. Maybe one day I can forgive as easily and as wholly as my sainted friend, or as the disgraced Mrs. Hamilton. I hope I can get better at this forgiveness thing, and at seeing the goodness and seeds of divinity in everyone. Until then, I'm glad that there is someone who has mastered this skill and is willing to lend a hand. 

Why I'm Coming Out Now

When I first came to terms with my bisexuality a few years ago, I made a hard decision, and I was afraid. I decided not to date women and to continue to prepare for the temple and a traditional family life because I had a testimony of Christ and His love and plan for me. But I was afraid of what would happen if I came out. I was afraid of how I might be treated at BYU-Idaho. I was afraid that I might end up in a state where I could be fired or denied housing for being out. I was afraid of how people might treat my family, and I was afraid of how the people I love would treat me. I figured that there would never be any need for me to be 100% out as long as I continued to follow the gospel of Christ as I understand it. I told a few friends and family members and tried to be careful of what parts of my life and thoughts and experiences I shared with other people. 

This weekend, with the Supreme Court decision flooding so much of the current conversation, I ached for religious gay people everywhere, and especially for gay Mormons facing church today. I felt strongly that people need to know that there are gay Mormons, and that they are all over the spectrum of comfort with their sexuality and their spirituality. It is a real conflict. Some gay Mormons stay. Some leave. Some will drift in and out of activity while they try to reconcile two essential and contradictory parts of their identity. Some come out. Some don't. Some join the church when they are already out, accepting the conflict with incredible faith in Christ. 

All of them--all of us--need the Atonement of Christ and the love and support of those who believe as we do just as much as anyone. And many of us won't get that at church today. Some of us will hear ill-intentioned and hurtful things from people they love, but can no longer feel completely safe around. Some will feel even further disconnected from the body of Christ they so long to feel at home in. 

Elder Oaks spoke on this less than a year ago, and spoke powerfully about what our attitudes should be when we speak about our thoughts and feelings about political issues 

"When the resurrected Christ found the Nephites disputing over the manner of baptism, He gave clear directions on how this ordinance should be performed. Then He taught this great principle:

‘There shall be no disputations among you, as there have hitherto been; neither shall there be disputations among you concerning the points of my doctrine, as there have hitherto been.

‘For verily, verily I say unto you, he that hath the spirit of contention is not of me, but is of the devil, who is the father of contention, and he stirreth up the hearts of men to contend with anger, one with another.

‘Behold, this is … my doctrine, that such things should be done away.’

“The Savior did not limit His warning against contention to those who were not keeping the commandment about baptism. He forbade contention by anyone. Even those who keep the commandments must not stir up the hearts of men to contend with anger. The ‘father of contention’ is the devil; the Savior is the Prince of Peace.”

I hope that no one reading this will continue to be the people who stir up contention and alienate those who are trying their best. I hope that everyone will react to the changing world with compassion and Christlike love and be more conscious of the impact they may have on those they care about. 

Who Is Johnny? An Adventure in Family History

Do you ever get a person stuck in your head? Someone who's never too far from your thoughts, even when you're not quite sure what their role is in your life? Maybe you'll never have a chance to reconnect with them, or may be you've never met them and have no chance to? It's terrible, isn't it?

I've been meaning for a long time to write a little about a person stuck in my head who I'm not going to meet in this life. Not many people know him, and even fewer people are alive who remember him from knowing him. Being technical doesn't feel right. My great-grand-uncle was never how you'd picture a great-uncle. Not at all. John Barkowski never saw his 22nd birthday. Today would have been his 92nd. Uncle Johnny was in the Army. He was killed in action in France on March 20, 1945--less than two months before VE Day. His mother Sophie was convinced they'd send a German's body instead of her son's, so he's buried in France. I don't know if anyone in our family has ever been able to visit his grave.

There's a lot I don't know about Johnny and his family. It's less frustrating sometimes to think about what his life might have been than to scramble to struggle to find out what his life really was, and what the lives of his family really were. It'd be easy to take the information we have, do the temple work, and leave his family there and try to move on to the next line in our tree. I haven't been able to do that. I've always been especially drawn to the Barkowskis and had an eagerness to learn as much about them as possible. It's been tough because Johnny and his siblings were the first generation born in the US. The part of Poland his parents are from is now part of Belarus.

 I meant for years to sit down with my Grandpa Russ, Johnny's nephew, and get down the stories he heard from his mother and aunts and uncles about their family, but I never got around to it before he died suddenly last March. He left us a lot of family things, but we really too busy to go through those, either. Up to this point, I hadn't seen many pictures of the Barkowskis, especially when they were young. My picture of Johnny was basically Bucky Barnes, because that's the profile he fits: a nice kid from New York City who joined the army and never made it back to the States. I can admit that I have kind of a secret wish that some of the circumstances of Captain America. Not so that I could marry Steve Rogers...well, mostly.  Wouldn't it be great to meet Uncle Johnny and learn about the family from his point of view? 

Sebastian Stan is from Eastern Europe and everything

While pondering this a while back, I finally started looking through the boxes in the garage of family stuff. There are hundreds, maybe thousands of pictures, and lots of documents and letters and cards and yearbooks--and some of Johnny's things. We have his uniform hat, his flag, and what was likely the last letter he ever wrote. I finally have a bit of a fact-based idea of who he was.

The letter's dated February/March 1945 and addressed to his sister Lottie, who had left the rest of the family in Queens and moved to Wyoming. He was on a new deployment that no one had really seen coming. "There's never a dull moment in the Army," he told her. I'll include a few other quotes.

"France, before you ask, isn't what they build it up to be, but the country itself has some beautiful scenery, something we boys pay little attention too [sic]."

 "The last time I was home, every thing was the same, except that Mom and Pop are really aging fast. I noticed that as soon as I walked in, and Mom has a bad foot. Once this war ends, Pop has mentioned that everything is goin' to rest on my back, and recently I've been thinkin' about it seriously."

"I still have hopes of comin' down to your home sometime in the near future. Keep expectin' me, or don't you believe I will? Oh yeah, don't go worryin' to [sic] much, whether or not I'll like it in Wyoming or not, 'cause I always manage to enjoy myself, one way or the other. Just let me get there, that's all I ask. Let this war come to an end first, then we'll talk about it, right?'

I wonder what Johnny would have done after the war. He mentions a "Marie" a few times in the letter. I wonder who she was, and what their relationship was like. He might have had to provide for his parents and little sister and at least one older brother who lived at home because of their poor mental health. He might have really loved Wyoming and settled out there like Lottie and Mary (another sister, my great-grandma) did. He might have spent the rest of his life in Queens like the rest of the family did. Maybe that impossible blank page of what-ifs he never got to disappoint anyone with is part his legacy as the family hero.

I see Dallin in this picture, but I see my brothers in all the old family pictures.
(Nobody else does, so I'm probably making it up)

I'm not completely alone in my quest to add more to the picture of the person stuck in my head. Some of my grandpa's cousins are still alive, and they probably don't remember Johnny personally, but they'll remember the stories. At the very least, I can feel like I already know Johnny a little when I meet him in the next life. I can almost hear him laugh at me for writing this. And for insisting on taking these pictures.