Response to a Sunday School Discussion, on Genesis 18 and 19

I sat in Sunday School for the first time in many months. We were reading about Abraham and Lot. I sat with my mother. I tensed when Sodom and Gomorrah were mentioned. The biblical account states that Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed because of their wickedness. The teacher asked (what I deem a stupid question), "What are some examples of their wickedness?" Of course, homosexuality was brought up; it was spoken of with intense disgust, almost as if it were a plague, implying that those who are LGBT are sick and in need of pity, a cure, or fiery annihilation. All I could think of were these lines from Shakespeare's "The Merchant of Venice", my own way of affirming "I AM NOT A PLAGUE! I am the same as you"--

He hath disgraced me, and
hindered me half a million; laughed at my losses,
mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my
bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine
enemies; and what's his reason? I am a Jew. Hath
not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs,
dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with
the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject
to the same diseases, healed by the same means,
warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as
a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed?
if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison
us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not
revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will
resemble you in that.

Let's not use ancient, stolid Bible stories to demonize those who we feel are different from us and then justify our actions against them.

The Sunday School lesson we should remember most? Look and you will see that we are the same: all are christened children of God, made of the same materials, housing the same biological patterns, and full of the power with which God has gifted us.

Eve's Real Curse, or Why Yes! Every Girl Should Have a Gay Boy, Part II

We still giggle about that dinner, but there are times I regret we ever taught Julyn how to spot a gay. You see, she's in the theater department at a Church-sponsored school, and -- being lovely, witty, kind, sensitive, "pleasantly plump" (can I say that, Jules?), accepting and delightful young Mormon woman she is -- she's the perfect go-to for those cute Mormon theater boys who just don't want to admit they like other cute Mormon boys; those cute Mormon boys who ask lovely, witty kind, senstive, "pleasantly plump", accepting and delightful young Mormon women out on dates; those cute Mormon boys who lead those cute Mormon girls into quasi-relationships, and then call an abrupt halt without immediate explanation; those cute Mormon boys who often eventually come out as gay to those cute Mormon girls. I admit, I was one of those cute Mormon boys, and I hated myself for it.

Perhaps that's why I feel a guilty pricking in my hard heart when Jules tells Corey and Jess and I about the boys she meets during shows and in class and then asks, with both hope and doubt in the possibitly of R-E-L-A-T-I-O-N-S-H-I-P, "Do you think he's gay? He probably is. He's got most of the signs." I feel that dagger, too, when Jules reminds Corey and I that we promised we'd tell her if we ever thought any boyfriend of hers was attracted to other men. We've opened her eyes, I guess, but I don't know if that's been a good thing. She weighs her dating prospects with a much more searching scale. Perhaps we've made it difficult for any man to pass the "Is he? Isn't he?" test. The things we told her have taught her to feel like her options of marriage-able men are even more slim. I think that thought sometimes causes her great anxiety.

Traditional Christianity teaches that the curse of Eve is pain in childbirth. I sometimes joke that the Eve's real curse was Steve, the other man in the Garden. The one who joined Eve during the big shoe sales at Gabriel's, and who listened to Eve talk about her feelings over a molten lava cake, who kept his hair well-coiffed, whose biceps looked like stone, and whose high-pitched snicker could be heard all over creation. Steve, who who baffled and intrigued and frightened Adam. The joke usually gets a big laugh, but I don't think it's so funny anymore. In fact, it makes me angry. I don't tell it much anymore.

The whole reason there is any sort of "curse" is because, as gay boys in the LDS church, we've cursed ourselves, buying into the idea that we can, or that we should, or that we will someday be cured of homosexual "tendencies" by attempting romantic relationships with our naive young sisters. We are committing a crime in lying to ourselves and to the women we fool, boys, when we think we can date and marry our "guilty question" away. That sort of self-hating dishonesty is the real sin God condemns.

I am eternally grateful that I didn't fool Jules (or myself) any more than I did when we were in high school and in between our missions. I am so happy that our friendship remains, because I know I've burned bridges with other dear girl-friends. I almost believe that the fact that I never pursued any real sort of committed relationship with Jules is because she is the young woman I love best and would keep from harm most. I hope I'm no curse to her, because she has been an incredible blessing to me.

With love to you, Jules. *HEAD-HUG!!!*

Tria Fata Performs Arvo Part's "Mozart-Adagio"

From a performance at Weber State University, Feb 18, 2010

Eve's Real Curse, or Why Yes! Every Girl Should Have a Gay Boy, Part I

Julyn has been my best girlfriend since the summer of ninth grade.  We have quite a bit of history, as best friends should.  She crushed on me in high school, and I also felt a deeply mutual affinity and affection for her (secret: I still do).  She's been the singular young woman to drop my jaw (with a shocking authenticity) by just entering a room (picture: Nic standing in the kitchen before a prom, corsage in hand, stopped mid-sentence by this gorgeous girl in pink, capped-sleeve and beaded-bodice wonder).  We've held each other in times of deep loss and effervescing joy.  She's been a constant woman in my life.  And I've been her best gay boy all along, even if neither of us were honest about it until about eighteen months ago.

The week I came out to Julyn was not a good one for her.  Another good friend of ours and her sister also had similar discussions with her.  She had just started a new job and it seems like midterms were coming up.  Three gays in two days is a lot to take in: Jules lost the job and failed a few tests.  I felt awful, but being the miracle she is, Jules got over the news, and things have been great ever since.

Except for this one time, when Corey and I did a (maybe) bad thing.  Corey, Jules and I drove to Provo to visit another of our best friends, Jessame, who was attending BYU's law school at the time.  We met Jessame at her apartment and then headed out for what Corey call's "a twenty-something's idea of a fancy dinner" at PF Chang's.  After we'd been seated, conversation took a turn to what Julyn thought would be the difficulty of finding other gay men to date in UT.  I spotted a cute waiter--tall, with dark hair and features--and flirted a little bit, getting a prompt, yet furtive glance back.

"How did you do that?!" Jules exclaimed, waving her arms, almost pushing Jessame out of the booth.

Corey and I proceeded to give Julyn the lesson in "How to Spot a Gay." I will now defer to a post of Corey's, listing a few of the things we shared with Julyn that night.

1. "Is the facial hair nicely trimmed?
2. "Does the hair stick up in any way (ie. a faux hawk)?
3. "Are the shoes pointy or at least Italian-looking?
4. "Does he have cologne in his car? Hair products?
5. "Is his butt tucked as he walks?
6. "Are his clothes exceptionally well coordinated? (ie. Does his underwear match the rest of his outfit?)
7. "V-necks?
8. 
   
   "Is there a gym membership on his key chain? Or a rewards card to any of the following: a high-end clothing store, a shoe store, a book store?"

 Jessame thought our limp-wristed demonstrations were, simply put, absolutely fabulous.  Jules, on the other hand, was less than excited.  She was shocked.  Mortified. A little panicked.


Trying to make light of a somewhat serious realization, Jules half-joke, "You mean I'm gonna end up marrying some ugly, fat, gut-laden, fart-spewing hick?!"  The pain and shock and almost-humour on Julyn's face sent a little guilt my way.  Trying to backpedal as quickly as I could, I said, "Oh, Jules, darling! Just marry a man with sisters.  That way, he'll have all the benefits of style and gentility, and you can still be his type!"


That mollified her for a while, but only until she started to count up the (possibly) gay boys she kept close.