Debjani Chakravarty & Monica English. Sexuality & Culture. Volume 25, Issue 1. 2021.
Introduction
Religion and sexuality, especially non-normative sexualities, exist in perpetual tension and negotiation with dominant social norms and sexual scripts. Sexual script theory discusses the importance of social institutions and cultural contexts such as those provided by religion, laws, mass media etc. in influencing sexual conduct (Gagnon and Simon 2011; Wiederman 2015). Gender norms and expectations are central to tactics and tenets of religions seeking to create social control and maintain social order. In this study we explore how members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (colloquially—as well as in existing scholarship—known as Mormons/LDS) who are sexual minorities in Utah negotiate their identity and try to belong in multiple communities while existing at the intersection and margins of what is considered “normal.” We argue that while negotiating religiosity and sexuality—and hence “proper” gender roles in a heteronormative community—people follow a “spiritual script” that they create for themselves in the process of identity negotiation. This script allows for varying levels of expression, performance, and disclosure of identity depending on safety and acceptance of such identity in social spaces.
We use data from in-depth semi-structured interviews conducted in Utah with LGBTQIA (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer/questioning, intersex, and asexual/agender) individuals who identified as Mormon, or as belonging to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, to understand how such individuals negotiate their religious and gender/sexual identity. We are interested in the phenomenology of being religious while not fitting prevalent and accepted gender/sexuality norms. We draw from the notion of sexual scripts to develop the idea of a spiritual script—a plan or program that religious and/or spiritual people follow that allows them to selectively align themselves with religious/spiritual practices that are not at odds with their authentic selves and selectively disclose their identity to community members. On the one hand, individuals learn sexual script or ideas about sexual conduct from entrenched institutional norms, but on the other such scripting can be improvised, immediate, and performative (Plummer 2011).
We are interested in how sexual minorities negotiate their socio-sexual identities in the heavily Mormon religious/cultural environment of Utah. Most of our respondents currently reside in Utah county where more than eighty percent of the population are Mormon, vis-à-vis approximately sixty-two percent of the population in the state of Utah according to a Salt Lake Tribune report from July 2017 (Canham 2017). We research how religious social actors play “parts” in order to interact with others in a way that manifests their social roles (Gofman 1959). Gender roles, deeply connected to sexuality are central to such performance. Closely connected to the notion of performance and presentation of roles is the notion of performativity which understands subjects of gender and sexuality to perform their identities in the matrix of power in a manner that “do not merely exceed the bounds of cultural intelligibility, but effectively expand the boundaries of what is, in fact, culturally intelligible” (Butler 1990, p. 40).
We consider neither how/whether the organized religion classifies or categorizes our interviewees as Mormons in good standing—nor whether they ft the established expectations and experiences of LGBTQIA communities, identities, and identity politics. Phenomenology urges us to focus on lived and embodied experiences and in our research our interviewee’s experiences of how they identify and why is more important to us than prevalent socially and academically constructed discourses on religious and/or sexual/gender identities. These discourses along with existing knowledge on intersectionality, sexuality, gender identity, organized religion, and religiosity have helped us contextualize and analyze our data. However, we take our research participants’ own experience and categorization of their identities as the chief source of our understanding of how religious and gender/sexual norms codetermine intersectional identities. Phenomenological research also allows for more open-ended questions and conversations (Martinez 2000).
We explore identity-negotiation experiences of individuals who claim a belief system as their own and who identify as individuals whose sexuality and/or gender identity and expression do not ft hegemonic sex-gender norms. It should be noted that although we use LGBTQIA to delimit a reality and a dynamic community, some of our interviewees’ identities did not ft any of the identities designated by the seven letters, that is, some of them identified as pansexual, some others as demisexual—indicating the complexity and variations in how people experience themselves and their worlds. Also, none of our respondents identified as intersex.
Literature Review
Studies on simultaneous experiences of religion and sexuality often focus on the role religion plays in how people understand, negotiate, and perform sexuality. Religion is often posited as a form of social control that dictates and influences initiation and transition to sexual activity for adolescents and adults (Barkan 2006; Rostosky et al. 2004). While there is variability between religious denominations and groups, on sexual practices and sexual attitudes, for women and men personal religiosity is a predictor of more conservative sexual attitude (Ahrold et al. 2011). Majority of research that focuses on the intersection of religion (often in the form of individual and communal religiosity) and sexuality, as well as other identity categories seem to mostly be about heterosexual experiences. Many studies that focus on religiosity and sexuality are quantitative survey-based studies that establish causal relationships between religious beliefs/activities and sexual attitudes, actions, and behaviors. Quantitative studies on experiences of LGBTQIA persons of faith reveal opposing trends—that spirituality and faith adherence can have positive or negative outcomes on sexuality including sexual health and wellbeing (Wright and Stern 2016). Qualitative studies that focus on responses of religious LGBTQ adolescents reveal disconnect from faith that they are socialized in as well as sincere efforts to reconnect and maintain relationship with faith and faith communities (Dahl and Galliher 2012). Rodriguez and Follins (2012) argue that more research in the fields of psychology, religion, and sexuality is needed to understand transgender and intersex people’s religious experiences. A notion of biological gender binary seems to inform dual and complementary gender roles in religion and other social institutions. Existence and stories of queer, intersex, and non-binary persons challenge normative gender. “Western culture is now becoming increasingly informed about the presence of intersex people as they actively seek social and medical reform, as well as the reality that biologically, human sex is not a binary opposition. If the Christian church, as each of us experiences it, continues to ignore these biological realities, and persists in being the ultimate agent of the social control of bodies, it will continue to be an oppressor of intersex people…(Hiebert and Hiebert 2015, p. 41).” For patriarchal religious doctrine, sex/gender as not always fitting a binary scheme or sexuality drifting from heteronormative principles could be challenging to the core.
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints operates on patriarchal principles, with strongly established gender norms and roles (Hardy 1994; Quinn 1996). Patriarchal belief systems define gender roles as different and opposite, define family units and other social institutions as heteronormative, control reproductive capacities and decisions, and create hierarchical gender roles and power arrangements that institutionalize male leadership (Siegel et al. 1995). The Mormon doctrine provides a gendered framework for personal and social lives of believers, what Sumerau et al. (2018) analyze as a “moral career” that includes expected behavioral patterns and trajectories.
Currently, men alone are vested with religious leadership as well as sacral authority—all male children are socialized to receive the priesthood and live up to attendant expectations and duties. Mormon theology fits into traditional Christian theology in some ways, and deviates in others. Despite being a patriarchal religion with fixed gender roles and gendered division of labor, the LDS faith has historically often found itself outside patriarchal heteronormative structures and gender expectations. Practice of polygamy (rejected by the mainstream LDS Church in 1890) as well as Mormon Women’s early political participation and support for women’s suffrage are instances of such deviation (Foster 1984; Ware 2019). Mormon women negotiate their gender ideology in varied ways within patriarchal religious spaces (Mihelich and Storrs 2003).
The first academic study of homosexuality in Utah that featured/analyzed the experience of Mormons was done by Mildred Berryman in 1938 after a couple of decades of data-gathering, a study she had started as her honors thesis project while attending Westminster College (Quinn 1996, p. 195). In this study Berryman attempted to understand the gender performance and expression of her non-heterosexual respondents vis-à-vis their sexuality as well as the ways her respondents negotiated their sexuality in a religiously conservative tightly knit community— often through evading “discovery” by this very community (Minton 2002, p. 31). However, within the Mormon community instances of homosociality in the form of homocultural, homotactile, homoemotional, homotromantic behaviors and dynamics occurred (Quinn 1996).
Studies on Mormon men indicate that they often ensure that their non-heterosexual orientation would not deter them from fulfilling religious expectations; there are continuous efforts to integrate faith and sexuality, religion and acceptable gender performance; however sometimes loosening ties with the church is the only way to reconcile incompatible identities (Cranney 2017; Bradshaw et al. 2015; Dehlin et al. 2015; Goodwill 2000). Mormon women experience feelings of guilt and shame related to their homosexuality or “same sex sexuality” and their religious upbringing significantly impact how they negotiate their sexual minority identity (Lefevor et al. 2019; Jacobsen 2013). Mormon women also report suicidal thoughts and conflict between their sexuality and religious community, and negative experiences with reparative therapy (Jacobsen and Wright 2014). Conversion and reparative therapy can impact how Mormon individuals understand and reframe their sexuality and can sometimes help people renegotiate their sexual identity, without changing their sexual orientation (Beckstead and Morrow 2004). Mormon non-heterosexual adults often experience minority stress predictive of depression (Crowell et al. 2015). The church believes in conventional gender roles, has condemned homosexuality as sinful, and focuses on the family as the most important socio-spiritual unit with men and women complementing each other for the purposes of procreation and salvation (Bradshaw et al. 2015; Grigoriou 2014).
The term “same-sex-attraction” is widely used in official Mormon documents/ teachings on sexuality in recent years as the church’s stance has become somewhat more inclusive and/or tolerant on the issue of non-normative sexuality that keeps Mormons from leading the ideal heteronormative life of stable family formation. Homosexuality and/or same sex attraction is not officially considered sinful, however, church teachings on https://www.mormonnewsroom.org state that: “While same-sex attraction is not a sin, it can be a challenge. While one may not have chosen to have these feelings, he or she can commit to keep God’s commandments. The parent of a child who experiences same-sex attraction or identifies as gay should choose to love and embrace that child. As a community of Church members, we should choose to create a welcoming community.” Yet, the idea of premortal, inherent gender identity that is central to Mormon doctrine alienates intersex and transgender believers (Givens 2017).
The following section explains how we use a feminist and phenomenological methodology to understand identity negotiations of religious LGBTQIA individuals that exist on a continuum of welcoming and alienating circumstances.
Methodology and Research Questions
Our aim with this research project—as scholars who inhabit some of the marginalized identities central to our research question(s)—is to understand how people existing at the intersection of marginalized sexuality and gender identities negotiate individual/communal religious identity and performance sourcing from a belief system that is heteronormative and patriarchal in terms of accepted gender roles. We believe that knowledge about multiple marginalizations raises awareness which is beneficial for a culture as well as policymaking to progress. We also believe that identities and experiences exist at the intersections of systems of oppression as well as privilege, thus neither an identity category nor a culture is homogeneous and uniform (Collins and Bilge 2016; Nash 2008).
Ours is an exploratory oral history project that captures the stories and histories of LGBTQIA Mormons living in these times of growing acceptance in some spaces and intolerance in others. As mentioned earlier, among the respondents willing to speak to us, there were no intersex individuals. One intersex person who had taken our survey initially agreed to an interview, but later declined.
Our leading research question is: how do people negotiate their religious and sexual/gender identities as Mormons in Utah? This space specificity underscores our research as culturally specific, and about identities existing in a cultural milieu that creates advantages as well as disadvantages. Our focus is more sociological and phenomenological rather than psychological, and following this logic, we focus on common experiential themes. This research project acquired Utah Valley University’s IRB authorization (IRB Approval #01,679).
We utilized in-depth semi-structured interviewing in the feminist and phenomenological methodological tradition to gather our data. We interviewed a total of eighteen people, drawn from a list of initial survey that that asked people about their religious and gender/sexual identities, age, residence (state/county), where they grew up (state/county). The survey link was sent over email and social media messaging to LGBT Student Services and LGBT student clubs of local Utah universities and Utah-based LGBT Advocacy groups; survey links were also posted on online local classified sites. The final interviewees were people who responded to our invitation for an interview—we invited twenty-eight people and interviewed eighteen individuals who were able to make it. Interviewee ages ranged from nineteen to fifty-five years; sixteen respondents were White, one African American, and one Asian. This demographic, while chosen based on respondent availability and willingness, is representative of Utah’s racial demography (U.S. Census Bureau 2019). Everyone identified as LGBTQIA (as a collective identity/community position) and Mormon/ LDS and discussed specifics of their identity experience during the interview. We had initially planned for a one-hour interview per participant; actual interview times ranged from forty-two to ninety-eight minutes. While we had an interview guide, our interviews were in-depth and semi-structured, and resembled free flowing conversations. Our interviewing incorporated sensitivity and reflexivity: we asked participants if they would add a crucial question to the interview that we missed; we ended the interviews by asking what motivated the participants to come and talk to us. “Reflexivity goes to the heart of the in-depth interview; it is a process whereby the researcher is sensitive to the important ‘situational’ dynamics that exist between the researcher and the researched that can affect the creation of knowledge” (HesseBiber 2014, p. 201). We transcribed and coded the interviews—and achieved intercoder reliability.
A feminist approach to research involves focus on social relationships and power hierarchies, on marginalized standpoints, and on consciousness-raising so that knowledge is socially useful while keeping an eye on the socially constructed and power-laden nature of knowledge, academic labor, identities, and values such as objectivity (Fonow and Cook 2005; Stanley 1990) A feminist methodology also helps interrogate subjects and discourses of oppression and marginalization— revealing how systems of ecclesiastical, economic, and epistemic power perpetuate such marginalization, for instance of LGBTQIA peoples worldwide. Butler (2004) explains how the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) pathologizes Gender Identity Disorder (GID) by also gender to be fixed and conventional. The newer edition of DSM replaces GID with gender dysphoria and focuses more on fluidity of gender expression rather than on the distress and unhappiness experienced by individuals that deviate from conventional gender norms. Butler also explains how religious communities often embrace such scientific analysis and diagnosis wholeheartedly because these align with their worldviews. Feminist methodology uncovers relationships of power within knowledge structures and practices. We ask our participants to name, define, and discuss their religious and gender/sexual identities; explain how these intersect and whether such intersection causes conflict; who supports them (or not) in their journey, and how they negotiate existing at the intersection. Interviewees talked freely about other aspects, processes, and memories that we did not specifically ask about, and free flowing conversations yielded rich data that is often elicited from semi-structured interviews.
We adopt a phenomenological approach that makes lived experience and perception (of an issue or a problem) as central to analysis, and traces underlying values, assumptions and beliefs of the phenomena being studied, in this case—intersection of sexuality/gender roles and religion/religiosity. Phenomenology as a method can be understood as the study of structures of conscious experience (Moustakas 1994). Conscious experience consists of perception, thought, memory, imagination, emotion, desire, language, embodied action, and social activity. “Generally speaking, the application of phenomenological methodology involves stopping the natural few of our conscious awareness. Selecting an experience to focus on, suspending all of our presuppositions regarding that experience…and describing it in as full detail as possible as if we are experiencing it for the first time” (Martinez 2000, p. x). We asked our interviewees to focus on their being and experiences that result from their occupying multiple spaces and communities of support and judgement, acceptance and suspicion. As researchers, we are looking for similar experiential themes and sharing the work of interpretation and analysis with our research participants. We compared how interviewees negotiate their identity in spaces they occupy and looked for patterns of experiences and common themes. Phenomenology does not reduce research subjects to objects of study, neither subject them to our preconceived notions. We are using the framework of sexual script to analyze experiences of gender and sexual performativity—understanding gender and sexuality to be fixed and fluid depending on the circumstances of those who exist at the margins of identities. “Phenomenology can offer a resource for queer studies insofar as it emphasizes the importance of lived experiences, the intentionality of consciousness, the significance of nearness or what is ready-to-hand, and the role of repeated and habitual actions in shaping bodies and worlds” (Ahmed 2006, p. 2).
In the following section we discuss the themes that recur in our interviews with religious gender/sexual minorities as they discuss their lived experience—and trace common patterns of experience.
“I Could See the Writing on The Wall!” Three Experiential Themes
The themes that were more prominent in the course of our interviews reveal patterns of spiritual script that LGBTQIA people deploy in order to be accepted in communities where they are at best somewhat accepted and at worst, suspect. Our respondents were chosen on the basis of their self-identification as Mormon/LDS and LGBTQIA but we also asked them to describe how they identify (see italicized descriptions). The themes isolated and discussed here are: simultaneity and coconstitution of identities; spiritual script and other identity negotiation techniques; alienation experienced as LGBTQIA as a formative experience.
Simultaneity and Co‑constitution of Identities
For our respondents, in varying degrees, being Mormon as well as LGBTQIA is deeply personal, intimate, and integral part of their identity. This simultaneity of experience continues to shape their interactive individual and social identity. Sexuality and gender identity are central to human collective and individual existence, sociality and social relationships, as well as everyday interactions. Scholars of social and symbolic interactions discuss the notion of role-set, acknowledging the co-existence and simultaneous performance of social roles assigned to and taken on by individuals. Role-sets define identities and experiences.
All of our respondents—who claimed their gender/sexuality as well as their LDS religion/spirituality to be central to who they are—are reluctant to choose one identity over the other, or give up one identity so that they can identify as the other fully, without social and communal prejudice. This profound need to identify and be acknowledged as “both/and” is a central theme that frames gay Mormon experiences of identity negotiation. Some respondents pointed out that they might not identify as strongly with the Mormon faith anymore, but nevertheless, it is very important to who they are today. Others discussed the triumphs and tribulations of trying to be a good Mormon as well as live authentically embracing their sexuality and or gender identity.
Ammon stated: “At this point in my life, I identify as gay and gay Mormon, but not as Mormon anymore. But I think the experience of growing up as Mormon, even though I don’t identify with the church anymore, I identify with that experience. It was very influential in my life.” This simultaneity of experience— complex intermingling of identity in a way that individual identities, experiences, and labels cannot be separated at will—underscores how gender/sexuality and religion co-constitutes authenticity of identity. Religion and faith traditions often provide frameworks of gender identity and performativity, and even if someone discards what it means to be well-gendered or suitably-sexual vis-à-vis one’s faith, the initial frame of reference and performance remain present in evaluating and embracing newer discourses.
While two-thirds of our respondents expressed their dislike of the term “samesex-attracted,” the remaining participants understood same sex-attraction as a reality of their lives. The notion of same-sex-attraction as a reality of believers’ lives continues to be perceived as a challenge among many respondents. This challenge directly relates to their desire to be members of the church and to belong in a religion where their gender and sexual identity are marginalized in a way where there seems to be no space left to exist, to contribute as a church member, and continue as a good Mormon. Heidi, who is asexual feels alienated by her religion’s prescriptive gender roles. Being a religious ciswoman, she does not believe she needs to be a wife and mother for her womanhood to be validated.
Some participants discussed their identities as initially fragmented, conflicted, and divided- but accepting themselves as who they are made them “whole.” The idea of wholeness appeared in our interviews more than the issue of authenticity. While the intersection of LGBTQIA and LDS/Mormon was the chief space of identity negotiation and frameworks, we also received responses that indicate how people create their own sexual script and priorities. Jacob explained how he rationalized his bisexuality to himself as imagining himself as two persons—one of them heterosexual and acceptable, the other homosexual and should be hidden. Steven stated: “My Mormon identity isn’t as solid as my gay identity…at the beginning I just like, my Mormonism was a much bigger part of my identity than my same sex attractedness and so I just decided if I prayed hard enough, and did all that stuff then it would go away.” He decided to take on this “identity problem” on his own, because he could not find many directions from his family or religious community—not mutually exclusive groups. He decided to practice “self-mastery,” as described in a pamphlet issued by the Mormon Church titled “God loveth His children.” Steven continued to try to suppress his feelings and fantasies, but the more he denied that he was attracted towards men, the more he wanted to explore it. He accessed gay erotica online to masturbate to, while being intensely disappointed with himself. Throughout this process, he held on to the message he was receiving from his religion—that same-sex-attraction was a temporary condition, a challenge, a trial. “But it was not an identity; it was a trial, right? So, which contributed to me saying to myself ‘it’s a trial, get over it.’”
People in Steven’s situation, trying to understand themselves and their identity, trying to find prevalent information, support, discourses not only found their church lacking, but also did not find many resources from the LGBTQIA community. The information was often helpful and made “things fall into place” but they seemed to be not directed at religious people and socially conservative people. The prevalent community wisdom on the internet seemed to suggest for many of our respondents that being gay and Mormon (or gay and religious) is an aberration—that it does not make sense. Therefore, it seemed as if, from the religious community as well as the LGBTQIA community, the definitive message was that something was not right with being religious and being gender/sexual minority, simultaneously. This surprised some respondents because they expected LGBTQIA communities to be more open towards varied experiences, identities, and viewpoints. However, some found out that if they do not proclaim or perform political identities that are, as Eden puts, “left-liberal-progressive,” “criticize their religion openly, or use widely approved terminology, some LGBTQIA spaces can be unwelcoming.
For some respondents, the church’s official website on the issue, mormonandgay.lds.org, is an acknowledgement of the crucial intersection of two salient identities and aspects of people’s lives. This website during the time of our interviews was updated from mormonsandgays.org launched in 2012—intended as a resource to understand same-sex-attraction (currently the url has been changed to https://mormonandgay.churchofesuschrist.org/ after a church decision to not use the name “Mormon”). For some respondents, use of the term “same-sex attraction” is reductionist, simplistic, even harmful, because sexuality is complex; it’s not simply a matter of sexual orientation based on sex/gender, sexuality is spiritual, crucial, and certainly not a “challenge.” Nevertheless, some of our respondents believe that while “mormons and gays” conveyed an approach that underscored the otherness of the gay community, the current website, even if superficially, attempts to be inclusive.
Spiritual Script and Other Identity Negotiation Techniques
Where one’s sexuality/gender identity as well as faith questioned by others—even well-meaning others—identity performance and display can become stressful and strenuous. A prominent theme that emerged from our interviews was a range of identity negotiation techniques that people existing at the intersection employ—to be identified, acknowledged, and validated.
All of our participants are Mormon—however there are varying degrees and depth of activity, belonging, and membership in the LDS church. Participants used a range of self-descriptions that include active and inactive member, devout and doubtful, believer and questioning. What is important to note that, these terms are often used as “both-and” and not “either-or.” Some people are believers as well as questioning doctrine and/or the church’s policies on gay members, some people appreciate the church’s donations to LGBT support groups while remaining critical of its position on marriage equality. Through the process of creating and following a spiritual script, believers are able to create a distinction between their individual Mormon spirituality through a personal relationship with god and the institutionalized religion as represented by the Church.
Participants’ narratives underscore the centrality of the Mormon religion to their upbringing and socialization, identification, and worldviews. Their religious beliefs and community have been at different times, source of support and comfort as well as mistreatment and alienation. In these narratives, the theme of separation between one’s personal faith and relationship with god and between the entrenched institutionalized religion is prominent.
Many LBTQIA Mormon individuals begin to think critically about their religion often after experiencing resistance to their identity—not just gender/sexual identity but also political ideologies and views on social norms and customs—and detecting contradictions between the doctrine and position/practices of the church. One of our respondents rejected the church’s “shame-based” position on sexual minorities, while conforming to church expectations of what it means to be a good Mormon and a good person. Some of our respondents believed that they could not be Mormon if they are not in full agreement with the church on all issues. Then they started thinking about the gospel and how the church’s practices might sometimes be in mild contradiction with the gospel, and the church’s policies can be dynamic for better or worse from an inclusion and civil rights perspective. A moment of revelation came for many when they realized that they can choose to follow the truth in the LDS gospel while not following each and every policy and position taken by the church, especially on the matter of gender and sexuality.
Margie, a self-described bisexual Cafeteria LDS respondent explains:
I guess you could say I define someone who is LDS vs. someone who is Mormon very differently. So…Mormonism is a cultural religion. A religion that is influenced by culturalism. Doctrine and practices are then influenced by religion by culture and orthopraxy obviously. Versus LDS which is very doctrinal, focusing on doctrine as opposed to practice and culture. And I consider myself more LDS, I also consider myself cafeteria LDS because there are many things that I disagree with including the stances on trans issues as well as sexuality issues as well as gender issues just in general.
How respondents practice their religion brings to the forefront issues of orthodoxy and orthopraxy, individual belief and practices vis-à-vis institutionalized ones, personal existence and public performance. Believers create their own path, own praxis of being Mormon/LDS that might not fully align with institutional doctrinal recommendation and expectations.
Sondra, a pansexual cisgender Mormon woman, explains:
There are multiple books of scripture in the LDS faith and so the most recent history is called the Doctrine and Covenants. That’s like the modern history of the LDS faith starting with the founder Joseph Smith and stuff and that’s when they get into kind of the more nit-picky rules that they like to talk about. Or also in Relief Society they’ll talk about modern teachings, like what our current leader is saying. And that’s where I really struggle is kind of the more modern we get in the faith the more trouble I have.
Sondra further pointed out that her religion has some foundational principles that she believes in, but she did not agree with her tithing going towards initiatives she did not support, e.g. the Church’s backing of Proposition 8. Respondents discussed with fondness how central church activities and communities are to their formative years, the associated good memories. Ammon stated:
Though I don’t want to be a part of the church anymore, the church was a very shaping part of my identity and I think that it is important for people to know I just don’t want to be pushed away from it completely. People have this idea that if you leave the church than you are against the church and that you are trying to make everybody else leave the church and you are pushing them out and all that stuff. And I don’t feel that way; I feel totally comfortable going to my relative’s baptisms and mission farewells and supporting them doing their thing. And I just wish that they could just support me as well.
Several Respondents such as Sky, a biromantic asexual Mormon person referred to their daily and weekly religious routine that involves praying and reading scriptures. Instances of personal refection and engagement with the faith in private spaces certainly outnumbered instances of going to church (sometimes just for the sacrament meeting, very few stay for the activities and meetings that span the customary entire three hours). LGBTQIA Mormon persons seemed to prefer the privacy and safety of their homes and other inclusive communities.
For many respondents their religious community, at different times as well as simultaneously, created feelings of alienation as well as association, isolation as well as communion. How comfortable people are in being and identifying as Mormons seem to depend largely on ward environment, relationship with the Bishop—and the Bishop’s knowledge and acceptance of LGBTQIA people—and relationship with family and community who are Mormon. If the ward members are welcoming and/or not openly dismissive and hostile to sexual/gender minorities, there is a greater chance of attendance and participation. Our respondents discussed negotiating their identities as well as the space of the church so as to participate without drawing too much attention or offending other members present. For many gay members, one powerful identity negotiation technique is to not engage in romantic-sexual behaviors at all, or openly. The closet seemed to be a safer place for many in order to not be socially ostracized, excommunicated by the church, or expelled from church-run educational or professional organizations. “Dating platonically” is an approach some people use to “balance” their sexuality and faith. Eden, a gay man and devout Mormon explains that keeping one’s bishop in the know is a way to be a good gay Mormon. This involves not just coming out but confessing to intimate, personal details. For instance, Eden explains, that at one point he was out to only his bishop, who was supportive and made an analogy about how he was like an athlete not living up to his full potential (of being a good, clean Mormon person who is on track with their duties). Eden also talked about people he knew that do this: “have male friend who is gay and he has a boyfriend but they…they don’t… I mean I think his bishop is OK if they kiss, but they don’t have sex. They don’t do anything a straight Mormon couple would not be able to do without talking to their Bishop. That works for them.”
Josh, a married gay man, is mindful of the boundaries when he goes to church with his husband. He is reluctant to take sacrament or behave in any manner that is seen as inappropriate. He said that he does this out of “radical empathy,” clarifying that he would do this any space that he chooses to become a part of that has rules. “…because if I were to go in any other, you know, organizations… if I was going to go to a mosque I would respect their… their grounds… if they asked me to take of my shoes I’ll take of my shoes. I am going to respect where I am because it is their sacred space… I might not understand it fully but I still have the ability to respect it.”
While mostly non-Mormon family, friends, and communities have been support networks for respondents, the role of Mormon family members, friends, and LGBTQ community members have not been insignificant. The process of slow and steady acceptance, sometimes complete, sometimes conditional from religious family and acquaintances helped LGBTQIA Mormons cope with fitting in and belonging in a heteronormative (some respondents believe homophobic is a more apt description) religious culture.
Evan and Heidi use the term “abusive relationship”—one as metaphor, and another as a true description of how they relate to the LDS church. Heidi describes how much the church was a part of their childhood, and how much they miss not being an active member and not going to church. They decided to not be as involved because they do not believe in how the church’s focus on the eternal family is currently causing rifts within families that have LGBTQ family members. Evan had previously accepted the church’s position of homosexuality and identified as “same sex attracted.” After explaining his deep ties with the church and positive experiences of being a missionary, he adds, “my relationship with the LDS church currently can be described as an abusive one, where someone you loved deeply hurts you repeatedly.” He tries to cultivate relationships based on respect rather than religion and mentions neither would he want to end relationships with Mormon family and friends, nor does he feel the need to be validated by them.
After years of performing masculinity and fulfilling expected milestones for Mormon men Ivy, a transgender woman, came out to her wife. She stopped going to the church for a while, then found a ward far away from her place where she started going by herself as herself. She could not go to her regular ward because, she states, “it’s so gendered, I mean men wear suits and women wear dresses, for the third hour they are completely separated. Men have their own class and women have their own classes and it was just too hard to go.” Eventually she was allowed to go to her regular ward where she could accompany her family, but was disbarred from attending the third hour. This emphasizes the importance of “proper” presentation of gender appearance in the LDS church, and the centrality of gendered clothing in many institutionalized belief systems. For many of our respondents, conforming to the church’s dress code was difficult. “It made my skin crawl” was a common expression used to explain yet another mode of identity negotiation—dressing “correctly.”
Ivy discusses how she started presenting her femininity at her place of work— she was employed by the LDS church and had held leadership positions within the church:
I could see the writing on the wall …I was leaving so I really wanted to see how far I could push the envelope. In Utah you well understand how most large employers are required by law that was put in place in twenty fifteen to allow gender transition and gender presentation according to identity of the employee… That law was enabled to get into place by the church and yet they claim exception as religious employer. I planned to talk with our leadership about that. I said I want to know if I transition whether I could still remain employed. I was promised that I would get an answer to that question. And yet all of a sudden things got really convoluted and I was like I need to retire. They’re going to fire me. I never got an answer to that question.
This experience of personally negotiating religious boundaries and spaces is a common LGBTQIA Mormon experience, one that is well catalogued on new media in the form of stories shared on forums, podcasts, and blogs of people that identify as Post-Mormons or Once-Mormons. Our respondents identify as Mormons, but they display various ways of being a Mormon, on their terms, in ways that minimize hurt and harm. Often, it is a difficult journey, filled with self-doubt, and doubts about current and celestial life. Elements of picking and choosing practices of daily life such as drinking/shunning coffee or alcohol seem to be the least stressful—the source of biggest stress is to be out in public religious spaces where people might know about one’s sexuality and gender identity and chose to respond with ignorance, homophobic hostility, or pity. These careful choices constitute part of a new spiritual script that LGBTQIA individuals fashion.
Ariana, a Mormon demisexual person explains how she is often “trying to… like… to stick below their (the church’s) radar, not be too rebellious, but still able to like maintain my own sense of like authenticity and being able to be like I’m still being genuine while still not also seeming disingenuous to my own friends who for a lot of them, it’s (the church) not always a welcoming place.” Thus LGBTQIA Mormon people have to manage and negotiate what Gofman terms the “front,” which is the identity people present to others. “Front, then, is the expressive equipment of a standard kind intentionally or unwittingly employed by the individual during his performance” (Gofman 1959, 13). Managing this front to ensure that LGBTQIA individuals are not offending or alienating people in their communities—family, religious and other affinity groups—involves significant emotional labor that can end up being alienating for their own selves. Many individuals mention that these struggles and internal/external conflicts have led to suicidal thoughts.
Asexual and agender participants discuss how they enjoy some passing privileges and yet are questioned about their intentions and appearance. Not presenting a specific gender identity is unacceptable in a religion where gender roles are deeply entrenched. Fiona, an asexual cisgender woman explains that even if she dedicates her life to the service of god, she is still not a good Mormon, not enough. She states:
It’s incredibly difficult because in Mormonism, they basically have the complete opposite of monasticism. Like, to be monastic is to be married. And have children… that is dedicating yourself to the service of God. Because you are procreating, you are preparing the next generation, to carry on the tradition, and the doctrine. Whereas if you are single, you’re a dead end. I mean you can be good teacher, you can be a Sunday school teacher, you can teach primary. You can be a librarian, you can do family history—everything you can do. But, it’s never going to be good enough because in the doctrine um…it is a faith that is focused on the afterlife. It’s preparing for the afterlife.
She deploys humor and lighthearted self-deprecation when people ask about her marital status. Performing such lightheartedness in order to be accepted stresses her out on most days. She, as well as a few other respondents mention how they seek out a second, more inclusive religious community. Fiona states that attending a second church “helps enhance the experience because the focus of Community of Christ (the church she attends) is on the here and now which is important to me.”
Alienation Experienced as LGBTQIA as a Formative Experience
All of our respondents described at length the alienation and isolation they experienced since youth trying to understand and express their identity. The filter and frames through which they understood themselves were mostly drawn from their religious socialization process- for all but one respondent. In a heteronormative and deeply gendered culture most of our respondents while growing up felt they did not ft and pursued the notion of fitting in committedly, which stopped them from expressing their authentic selves. None of our respondents have non-heterosexual parents and parents’ sexuality is an important factor in gender socialization of children (Averett 2016). The pressure to present and perform the “proper” gender created stress not only in our transgender respondents but also cisgender and gay respondents.
The experience of discovering identity and attendant social norms is often profoundly unsettling. Some people realize they are attracted to people of the same gender, or are asexual and are overwhelmed by a sense of being broken, incomplete, wrong, challenged. Among those that accepted their identity remained closeted because of deep shame and fear—of being sinful, thus not Baptized, not obtaining priesthood, being excommunicated, and disappointing or devastating Mormon family and friends. Some people see their sexuality and/or gender identity as a temporary condition, a challenge that can be overcome. Some were in denial, especially after reviewing the church’s position on homosexuality—they did not see themselves as gay, therefore sinful, and this led to deep confusion and alienation from one’s own self.
Everyone and most notably our transgender respondents talked about the lack of information, misinformation, and misrepresentation (or no representation at all) on mainstream and Mormon media adding to their distress. Growing up in Utah in a pervasive Mormon culture meant little possibility of acceptance; so many people did not come out or come to terms with their identity until they were in their twenties. Zinnia, a transgender woman stated: “I often dreamed about just running away and starting a new life in San Francisco, because to me San Francisco was, well that’s where LGBT people lived.” Fiona explains how being “culturally invisible” takes a toll on one’s mental health; while being asexual might accord passing privileges—in a way queer or transgender individuals cannot often be privileged.
Many of our respondents were mistreated by their families and penalized by the church. There is a sense of betrayal when one comes out to family and/or confesses to a bishop and is then reprimanded, shamed, and shunned. Sondra, who described herself as currently LDS and pansexual reminisces “I had this one Sunday school teacher who kind of liked to use the gays as the bad example for everything. Like whenever there was like a hate the sin not the sinner type situation we were talking about, she would always do homosexuals.” Expressions such as “sinner,” “broken,” “wrong” abound in memories of our interviewees as they found themselves framed by the LDS church. A few respondents experienced bishop-recommended conversion therapy that caused trauma. None of our respondents felt that such therapy has any benefits.
Evan explains how he did not have a name for what he was experiencing through his teenage years—not being attracted to women and being somewhat “obsessed” with men. He decided to see a therapist right before he went for a mission. The therapist told him that he was experiencing “same-sex attraction.” He reminisces that it was a relief to know that his experiences had a name. “It was freeing to realize, and it was a more innocent time for me since I hadn’t associated any shame with it either.”
For some respondents, finding support on anonymous new media spaces such as online discussion boards and chatrooms provided information, community, and some relief. For respondents who grew up before the start and spread of new media, feelings of loneliness and alienation were intense. There was nowhere to turn and there was pervasive hopelessness. Zinnia and Joy, explained how knowing they were women confined in men’s bodies was akin to experiencing a disability—a disability that had no name. Joy narrated how she started hoping as a child that in the celestial life she will be restored to her true self, a hope that lingers with her still. She ensures that she appears male and the only people that know about her true identity are her wife, a few friends on closed Facebook support groups, and her counselor. She wishes there were social media support groups when she was growing up. Many respondents while discussing their formative years connected feelings of hopelessness and alienation to suicidal thoughts that they had—for some, a few times, for others— regularly.
Alienation often stems from a sense of disconnect to one’s own self, as well as community and society. Our respondents reported that a few times LGBTQ friendly/ serving spaces were unsafe and unwelcoming because of their bias against religion, specifically the LDS faith. Some respondents explained how they did not like the idea of gay pride and other public presence/events and that offended their LGBTQ acquaintances who are otherwise supportive. Jacob stated, “Even if I were out, I do not like the idea of a pride parade.” A few other participants who are out stated that they did not want to draw attention to themselves. Some of their LGBTQIA friends did not understand this need for quietness/privacy, and this caused misunderstandings. Priscilla, a gay woman engaged to be married talks about her experiences of occupying spaces she sees as her own. She still goes to church with her fiancée but expects to be excommunicated after her marriage. “You know, I deal with people who are not accepting of gay people, but I also deal with LGBT community is very unaccepting of the LDS people. Sometimes I’ll hang out with someone and they’ll just bash on the Mormon Church and stuff and I just don’t know how…how do you expect acceptance when you’re shutting everyone else out.”
For many respondents who were coming into realization about their LGBTQIA selves, early heteronormative socialization conveyed messages about social norms and normalcy that created confusion, conflict, and self-loathing. For most respondents, initially, during their tweens and teens, one powerful way to negotiate identity was to not “act upon” their desires. There is a clear choice involved and many initially or permanently chose to not pay attention to their sexual/gender identities, or inwardly embrace their sexuality but never perform it.
Discussion
The themes delineated above are not just mere observations about and analyses on intersectional identities and experiences, these also can form a core of creating support systems for LGBTQIA people belonging in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. The main lesson for people and institutions who wish to support religious LGBTQIA people would be to understand that identities are usually both/ and, rather than “either/or.” Asking people to “choose” between identities is a way to diminish their humanity— identity and experiences are intersectional, rather than unidimensional. From our research’s phenomenological standpoint, the theme of naming and claiming one’s identity represents a radical notion of agency. Identity is not merely performative, but also interactive—deploying and bound by symbolic structures. Calling people by their preferred name, pronouns, and chosen identity label is a way to affirm people’s humanity. Questioning people’s faith when they belong in a faith tradition and community, or questioning why people are religious at all adds to structural as well as interpersonal oppression.
On an individual level, gender/sexual minorities who are religious are often resistant to choose one identity over another. This is not to suggest that people do not do this at all. There is prevalent research on Post-Mormons or once-religious people who abandoned or altered their religious/spiritual identity because it was difficult and stressful to negotiate two possibly contradictory identities. There is discourse on religious people who decided to accept and perform heteronormativity and hegemonic gender roles because not belonging in a religious community was difficult and stressful. Publicly available first-person narratives abound for both cases mentioned, and testimonies of Mormon individuals who are LGBTQ and following the gospel are often featured on the LDS church’s official and affiliated websites/forums.
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and other affiliated organizations have, in recent years, embraced a more tolerant stance towards sexual minorities, and yet, this stance of understanding and tolerance adds to self-doubt and ambivalence of LGBTQIA believers. The most recent change in 2019 allows children of LGBT parents to be baptized (reversing a previous policy). The church’s official doctrinal position on marriage and sexual relations between a man and a woman as explained and affirmed in Administering the Church is not going to change, as the website mormonandgay.lds.org avers—the website that communities the LDS church’s stance on homosexuality and related matters. Many of our respondents choose to stay in the closet until the church becomes fully accepting of gay people.
In about half of our respondents, there is hope that the church will become more and more accepting, while others are not so optimistic. Ivy states: “I believe that church will change its views eventually on LGBT people. Just like the church has changed its views on polygamy and just like it’s changed its views on Blacks and the priesthood. Yeah, the church evolves just like…probably not in my lifetime, but I think it will.” Some of our respondents pointed out that the church’s tolerance is decidedly ambivalent. This makes everyday identity negotiation a problem because it is impossible to know what will be tolerated when, and how. A respondent pointed out this following passage under the FAQ section of mormonandgay.lds.org: “The intensity of your attractions may not be in your control; however, you can choose how to respond. Asking the Lord what you can learn from this experience can focus your faith on an outcome you can control. Turning your life over to God is an important act of faith that brings great blessings now and even greater blessings in the world to come.”
This sense of optimism weaves itself into people’s spiritual script where everyday identity negotiation techniques, however stressful, can be seen as temporary measures. All the strategies people deploy in order to belong and be accepted, some of our respondents believe, will not be necessary soon because the Church will change.
Conclusion
One of the urgent reasons that had pushed us to study the lived realities of individuals wishing to live an authentic, normal life as a gender/sexual minority and Mormon is Utah’s high suicide rate of LGBTQ youth. As scholar/activists with lived experience of marginalization we believe that awareness is central to action. We noticed at the time of writing this paper that Utah’s Department of Health does not mention the stress associated with “fitting in” for LGBTQIA religious people as a factor associated with suicide, but they mention bullying, alcohol and drug abuse, and mental illnesses (State of Utah Health Department, n.d.). Among our participants, only one person mentioned being bullied as a stressful experience—and everyone but four mentioned having suicidal thoughts at some point without going into too many details. Personal spirituality and support from friends and family, and therapists (not conversion/reparation therapists) helped alleviate these thoughts in most people.
We learned that people hold on to their religiosity and spirituality because they see many benefits and values associated with that aspect of their identity. Living as LGBTQIA individuals negotiating identities that fall outside Utah’s dominant heteronormative culture, people often come up with ways to be religious and spiritual that might not fully align with yet be influenced by their faith. We term this mode of negotiating one’s religious and spiritual identity, “spiritual script.” In the manner of sexual script where ideas about sexuality are individual as well as institutional, the idea of “spiritual script” underscores the duality and integration of self and society in negotiating one’s identity. While discussing the partial integration of feminist scholarship/theorizing and sociology of gender, Avishai and Irby (2017, p. 670) contend that “… a sizeable proportion of this scholarship fails to engage gender theories altogether, and feminist scholarship is typically confined to niche venues. We find no evidence of a fundamental rethinking of theoretical frameworks in the sociology of religion.” Our paper attempts to bridge this gap—deploying feminist and sociological theories and methodology to understand the experience of people in the margins of religious and LGBTQIA supportive spaces.
We plan to explore the notion of “spiritual script” in future studies, and plan to engage in qualitative research that reveals histories and stories of marginalization and resilience of people that exist at the intersection of varied identities, ideologies, and systems of oppression as well as spaces of privilege. We believe that phenomenological studies can help explore stories and silences to better understand experiences of marginalized groups who are trying to negotiate their place and roles within social structures every day—trying to be safe while trying to be seen.