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Verfasser: Hexe Datum: Dienstag, den 23. August 2005, um 6:40 Uhr Betrifft: Schwule Mormonen
Mormons on a mission
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is one of the most powerful forces working to defeat gay equality. And openly gay and lesbian Mormons are the most powerful force working to change their churchBy Lisa Neff
From The Advocate, April 12, 2005
Struggling with his gay sexual orientation several years ago, Aaron Cloward sought help from the leaders of his local Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He didnât get any. âThe last [Mormon] bishop I talked to said, âYou are rejecting Christ. You are on the pathway to hell,â â says Cloward. âThe way that makes you feelââ
He considered suicide.
âI walked home and got my boxes of Benadryl,â remembers Cloward, now a 28-year-old surgical technician who lives in Salt Lake City. âFortunately I had the presence of mind to call my mom. She came over and held me as I cried myself to sleep. It made me take a step back and look at the church with a critical eye.â
Cloward, who served on a church mission to Southern California, quickly left behind the church and its antigay doctrine, which says that its followers can go forward in the religion only if they do not act on their same-sex attraction. He started a support group in Salt Lake City called Gay LDS Young Adults in the hope of helping other gay and lesbian Mormons find comfort and acceptance as they struggle with the churchâs teachings and long-held traditions.
Last year, Cloward stood on a downtown Salt Lake City street corner during Utahâs battle over a constitutional amendment banning gay marriage. He handed out fliers and carried picket signs urging passersby to vote contrary to the church and defeat the amendment. âPeople will say, âNo, no, the church doesnât tell me how to vote,â â says Cloward. âBut I will say that in church I did hear the message: âThese are the values we stand for. Vote accordingly.â â
What has become clear to Cloward and tens of thousands of other GLBT Mormons is the harsh fact that although they may have left the church, the church wonât stop meddling in their lives. While the Roman Catholic Church and the Southern Baptist Convention have grabbed the most headlines with calls to âsave traditional marriage,â the Mormon Church has quietly become one of the most powerful forces opposing any changes that offer gays and lesbians equality under the law. Not only does it lean heavily on its members to deny their homosexuality and to vote for candidates and ballot measures opposing equality, itâs thought to be spending millions of dollars to support antigay initiatives and politicians.
The church becomes more powerful every year. With about 5.5 million members in the United States and nearly 12 million worldwide, the Mormon Church is one of the worldâs fastest-growing denominationsâand one of the wealthiest. Some estimates put its net worth at close to $30 billion, although church leaders dispute that figure.
The LDS Church is a formidable opponent of gay equality. Itâs also quite a force to reckon with if youâre young and queer and growing up Mormon.
The lives of many gay and lesbian Mormons indeed reflect the emotional messiness portrayed in the 2003 indie movie Latter Days. In that film, 19-year-old Aaron âElderâ Davis is sent to Southern Californiaâas was Clowardâon a proselytizing mission, a service expected of all young male (and some female) Mormons. On his own for the first time, Aaron begins to realize heâs gay and falls in love with a hunky West Hollywood gay man named Christian. After they spend one night together, Aaron freaks out and flees home to his aghast family, including an LDS-bishop father who recommends âreparative therapyâ for his wayward son. âGod hates homos,â one of the other missionaries declares.
When John Hales, 33, of Manti, Utah, served as a missionary in Winnipeg, Canada, in the early 1990s, he had already been struggling with his same-sex attractions for some time. âI thought it was a spiritual weakness,â he says. I thought, I can overcome this as soon as I find the right woman.â He worked hard to conquer his âweaknessâ and planned to devote his life and career to teaching church ways. âWhen I realized that if I did marry, I wouldnât be able to fulfill a womanâs needs emotionally, thatâs when I made the decision to come out,â he says. âIt was one thing to sacrifice my own desires or happiness, but I realized it wouldnât be fair to a mate.â
Hales, now a journalist, was born into the church, his familyâs ancestry dating back to hard-living pioneer times and the dawn of the Latter-day Saints.
Founded by Joseph Smith in upstate New York in 1830, the early LDS Church faced prejudice and persecution. Its founder and members fled westward, first to Illinois, where Smith was killed by vigilantes, then to the Utah Territory under the leadership of Brigham Young. It was a disciplined mass migration by wagon, handcart, and horseback, with the adherents eventually taking refuge in the region on the shores of the Great Salt Lake.
The long journey, the hard times, and the struggle produced a membership proud of its pioneer heritage. âI have relatives who came across the plains,â says lesbian Mormon Sara Jordan, 42, a writer and documentary filmmaker from Salt Lake City. âSo itâs in my DNA. I have direct ancestry to immigrants who came from England and the Nordic region to join the church soon after the church was established.â
Held together by filial bonds and the largest possible familiesâsomething made easier to produce by the churchâs early embrace of polygamy, a practice officially abandoned in 1890 but still practiced by many breakaway LDS sectsâthe churchâs emphasis on strong families is its core value. âItâs a wonderful world to grow up in,â says gay actor Steven Fales, 34, a Salt Lake City native. âIt is not just a religion. It is a worldview, a world community, a family.âCloward also claims âdirect pioneer ancestry.â He grew up in Mount Pleasant, the geographic center of Utah, population 2,000. Both he and Fales knew at an early age theyâd serve as missionaries. âFrom the earliest age you are indoctrinated,â Fales says. âYou grow up saving for your mission, putting pennies in a jar.â
To become missionaries, Mormon youths must prove their worthiness and undergo intensive studies in language and scripture, both the Judeo-Christian Bible and the churchâs own Book of Mormon. From the central training centerâthe U.S. facility is in Provo, Utahâyoung Mormons embark on an unpaid two-year term of service. Some 60,000 missionaries serve throughout the world, putting in long, regimented days calling on prospective converts. Missionaries travel and live in same-sex groups of two to four, but still they remain isolatedâyoung men and women in unfamiliar locations, separated from friends and family, calling home just twice a year, on Motherâs Day and Christmas.
âYou canât help but experience miracles,â says Nate Currey, who served two years as a missionary in Vilnius, Lithuania. Currey, who grew up in Denver, was a teenage convert to the LDS Church, attracted to the spirituality, the structure, and the fellowship. He struggled through adolescence and young adulthood to understand and adhere to the churchâs âlove the sinner, hate the sinâ approach to homosexuality. âI thought if I was out there [on my mission] doing my best, doing what God expected me to do, being obedient and following the rules, that this attraction would go away,â he says. âBut I saw eventually that it wouldnât.â
Currey had his first gay experience while on his mission. âItâs not something that Iâm proud of,â he says. âThatâs not the reason that I was there, and it is probably one of the true regrets that I have in my life.â Church authorities found out. Just weeks after Currey completed his missionary work and enrolled at the LDS-operated Brigham Young University, he was called before a panel of 16 church leaders who inquired in explicit detail about his homosexual activityâwith whom and how many times. âI was emotionally drainedâfried,â he says about the experience.
Ousted from the church, Currey went home to Denver to deliver his parents a triple whammy: âIâve been kicked out of the church, I withdrew from school, and, by the way, Iâm gay.â It was more traumatic for him than for his family, Currey says: For a while he couldnât pass a church without breaking into tears. As Fales puts it, Currey had âlost his smileââhis optimistic, Osmond-like LDS outlook on life.
But Currey, now 26, found a new smile. He got married last Mayâbut the union took place at Toronto City Hall, not in an LDS temple, and he married a Mormon man, not a Mormon woman. âWe just did it with a justice of the peace,â says Currey, who lives with his partner in a college town in northern Utah. âBack here we had a receptionâmy family, his family. You could feel the love. And I knew then I could be happy and have a fulfilling life in Logan, Utah.â
Currey still cherishes his Mormon identity. He expresses respect for the church, a love for its people, a belief in its God. âItâs been good for me to come back to the state where I was excommunicated, to come back to succeed, to be happy, to find a partner and have a good lifeâa super life,â he says.
The LDS Church projects a powerful image of comfort, family, and mutual supportâitâs one of the chief selling points young missionaries use to win recruits to the Mormon lifestyle. A pro-LDS Web site, FamilyForever.com, promotes the churchâs belief in a family-centered afterlife with the slogan âFamilies Can Be Together Forever!â With so much riding on a warm and loving public perception, itâs easy to see why the church is hesitant to trumpet its rabid opposition to equality for gays and lesbians. Just as a panel of eldersâled by his own furiously angry fatherâconfronts Aaron in an atmosphere of secrecy in Latter Days, the church itself keeps its antigay activism largely under wraps.
While other religions have leaders who constantly preach against gay equality and warn of damnation and social collapse if theyâre opposedâsay, the Reverend Jerry Falwell or Pope John Paul IIâthe Church of Jesus Christ has 94-year-old president Gordon B. Hinckley. Also known as the churchâs chief âprophet, seer, and revelator,â since receiving messages directly from God is part of his job description, Hinckley is an unassuming, grandfatherly figure who makes the occasional appearance on such shows as CNNâs Larry King Live to try to gently dispel stereotypes about the Mormon faith.
âYou will not see Mormon [Church] leaders go in front of legislators,â says Olin Thomas, executive director of Affirmation, a growing international network of gay and lesbian Mormons. âBut they will suggest members act individually. Itâs somewhat low-key.â Massachusetts governor Mitt Romneyâwho is doing everything he can to stop his stateâs legal same-sex marriages and even opposes civil unionsârarely discusses the fact that he is a member of the LDS Church. Ditto Utahâs powerful U.S. senator Orrin Hatch.
Low-key action doesnât yield low returns. It only takes a gentle reminderâa statement from LDS headquarters, a few words at Sunday service, a church bulletinâcriticizing same-sex marriage to yield Election Day votes and big money for antigay groups. Excommunicated Mormon and LDS scholar D. Michael Quinn of Los Angeles has likened church members following LDS leadersâ instructions to an army of ants taking orders from above. âThe organizing power of the church is kind of like the military, and it has political clout far in excess of its actual size,â Quinn says.
The church began spending money to fight gay marriage in the 1990s, when Hawaii was expected to become the first state to legally wed same-sex couples. In 1998 the church invested an estimated $600,000 in the campaign to ban same-sex marriage in Hawaii as well as $500,000 in Alaska, the site of another major marriage dispute.
âThey were right up there as one of the leading funders and leading instigators of antigay attacks in Hawaii. And then there was California,â says Evan Wolfson, the founder of Freedom to Marry and, when he was with Lambda Legal, an attorney in the Hawaii lawsuit that sparked a national dialogue on marriage.
By the end of 2006 as many as 15 statesâincluding New Mexico, Arizona, Alabama, Iowa, Kansas, South Carolina, South Dakota, Texas, Virginia, Tennessee, and of course Massachusettsâare expected to debate constitutional amendments outlawing same-sex marriage. LDS spokeswoman Kim Farah tells The Advocate, âThere are no efforts under way for or against these proposed amendmentsâ and that the church was not actively involved in the 2004 ballot initiatives outlawing same-sex marriage that passed in 11 states in November.
Thatâs not strictly true. In the midst of the state ballot battles, the office of the LDS First PresidencyâHinckleyâs office, charged with relating Godâs own messagesâissued a brief statement in July 2004 about President Bushâs push for an antigay federal amendment: âThe Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints favors a constitutional amendment preserving marriage as the lawful union of a man and a woman.â Three months later, on October 19, the church issued another statement: âAs a doctrinal principle, based on sacred scripture, we affirm that marriage between a man and a woman is essential to the Creatorâs plan for the eternal destiny of his children. The powers of procreation are to be exercised only between a man and a woman lawfully wedded as husband and wife. Any other sexual relations, including those between persons of the same gender, undermine the divinely created institution of the family.â
Less than a month later, voters in Arkansas, Georgia, Kentucky, Michigan, Mississippi, Montana, North Dakota, Ohio, Oklahoma, Oregon, and Utah approved constitutional amendments banning same-sex marriage.
âThe church is an incredibly private organization. Thereâs no annual report. Youâll never know how much money they have or where it is going,â says Michael Mitchell, executive director of Equality Utah, a gay rights group. âBut the church came out with the statement and the voters responded.â
Gay rights advocates in the new battleground states who are familiar with the churchâs tactics anticipate that LDS leaders will get involved in their fightsâperhaps, as in 2004, late and without warning.
âWe know they have been involved in initiatives in other states and that they tend to get involved later in the game,â says Steve May, a former state lawmaker and cochair of the Arizona Human Rights Fund. May is a former LDS Church member, whom the Army Reserves tried to expel because heâs gay.
Arizona lies in the Mormon Belt, which stretches across the vast American West from the Colorado Rockies to the Pacific Ocean, reaching up into the Canadian prairie provinces and down into Mexico. Itâs in this belt âespecially Utah, the big buckleâthat Mormons are most influential in U.S. politics. âThe church has significant numbers there,â says Affirmationâs Thomas. âThey can sway a close election.â
The churchâs strategy and motivation in fighting against gay and lesbian equality appears to be modeled on its campaign against the Equal Rights Amendment in the 1970s, the passage of which the church said would result in âencouragement of those who seek a unisex society, an increase in the practice of homosexual and lesbian activities, and other concepts which could alter the natural, God-given relationship of men and women.â
The church employed an effective top-down chain of command in that battle, from headquarters to church leaders in 20 states, and that remains the approach in the LDS fight to support antigay discrimination, says Mormon scholar Quinn. âThe organizing power of the church is such that it can produce incredible numbers in states, even where it only has 1% or so of the population.â
Even where its voters are far outnumbered, the church may still exercise the power of the purse. During the 2000 fight over Proposition 22, the ballot measure to outlaw same-sex marriage in California, church leaders urged members to donate money and volunteer. A letter from one church leader, Douglas L. Callister, outlined the LDS strategy: Participation was voluntary, he wrote, but âthis is a moral issue, rather than political.â Solicitation of funds, he added, should begin with more affluent members, and âmany of these members will be asked to provide telephone and other grassroots efforts near election time.â
Timothy Cavanaugh, development director for Equality California, served as finance director in the unsuccessful campaign to defeat Proposition 22. He recalls, âOn Sundays, in church bulletins and publications, it was a high priority to get Mormons to work to ensure that the ballot initiative passed. It was preached from the pulpit. And there were huge amounts of money.â
The considerable LDS effort on Proposition 22 prompted gay state legislator Mark Leno of San Francisco to call for an investigation into the churchâs tax-exempt status with the IRS.
It also proved so painful for one gay Mormon that he committed suicide. Stuart Matis, 32, shot himself in a walkway behind an LDS church building, leaving a suicide note saying, âI am now free. I am no longer in pain and I no longer hate myself. As it turns out, God never intended for me to be straight. Perhaps my death might be the catalyst for some good.â
Official church policy on homosexuality is best expressed by President Hinckley, who at a General Conference of the church in 1998 said, âPeople inquire about our position on those who consider themselves so-called gays and lesbians. My response is that we love them as sons and daughters of God. They may have certain inclinations which are powerful and which may be difficult to controlâ¦. If they do not act upon these inclinations, then they can go forward as do all other members of the church. If they violate the law of chastity and the moral standards of the church, then they are subject to the discipline of the church, just as others are.â Hinckley did not go on to explain that Godâs punishment for a sin as grievous as homosexuality would likely be fiery damnation for all eternity. That would not have been grandfatherly.
To avoid exile from the mother church on earth and hellfire in the afterlife, many gay Mormons have been encouraged by their church to undergo various forms of âex-gayâ therapy. Some join the LDS-backed Evergreen International, a program that encourages people to âturn awayâ from homosexuality; some undergo shock treatments.
Such therapy did not work for Steven Fales. He struggled with being gay throughout a two-year mission to Portugal, graduation from BYU, marriage to a Mormon woman, and fathering two kids. In the end, he got divorced, was excommunicated, and, he says, âthrew God outâ of his life. He turned briefly to a life of prostitution and drugs, then to theater, writing, and performing an autobiographical one-man show titled Confessions of a Mormon Boy.
A downward spiral after coming out is not unusual. Sudden separation from the regimented and pervasive support structure the churchâs focus on the family encourages can leave gay and lesbian Mormons feeling intense isolation and shame. Many have committed suicide rather than face life outside the church. To counteract that emotional trauma, gay and lesbian Mormons have formed several pro-gay support groups, including Clowardâs Gay LDS Young Adults in Salt Lake City, Family Fellowship, and Affirmation, which has chapters throughout the country. Some in these groups seek to make peace with the church. Some seek to change the church. Many seek both.
âMy heritage is a vital part of me,â says writer and filmmaker Jordan. âI embrace that. But itâs not all of who I am. As I process what going back to church means, I know that church culture is such that, as a lesbian, I would have to leave an essential part of who I am at the door. And I wonât.â Still, she adds, âI donât believe that the Christ that I have come to know and love would ask me to make that choice.â
Affirmation leader Thomas is optimistic about the churchâs evolution. âThe Mormon Church has a long history of being a generation behind society,â Thomas says. âReally, at this point, no mainstream church is embracing gays. And the Mormon Church will be behind the mainstream churches, just as it was on the race issue. It will wait for the dust to settle.â
Utah activist Mitchell sees signs that some voters are wriggling out from under the churchâs thumb. He points out that the stateâs 2004 constitutional amendment to outlaw same-sex marriage received about 66% of the voteânot as low as the 58% in Oregon and the 59% in Michigan, but not as high as the 86% in Mississippi.
âThatâs surprising,â he says. âEveryone assumed we would lose by an 80â20 spread. But we ran a good campaign. We got our Mormon attorney general to come out against the amendment. So, while the church has been in the way, there is change.â
The most important place to fight for change may be at the very the heart of Mormonism: within each family. Aaron Clowardâs boyfriend of several years, Stephen Shroy, started attending LDS services at age 6, in Central Point, Ore., and stopped when he came out three years ago. âMy family is very LDS,â he says. âSo itâs still hard for my parentsâthough it has gotten a lot better. From their point of view, Iâve made choices that preclude me from being with them through all eternity. I used to very strongly believe that. Now I donât believe that God would keep a family apart.â
Cloward has had a somewhat easier time. âMost [of my family] are no longer active in the church for their own various reasons,â he says, adding that his mother is a lesbian and that he, in fact, had encouraged her to change her sexuality. âI thought being gay was a horrible spiritual problem, and I thought I needed to change my orientation,â Cloward says. âSo I went through the Mormon ministry for reparative therapy and reorientation [and] I was also trying to get [my mother] to change her orientation. Eventually, though, as I finally came to accept myself, I came out to her and barely got the words out before a river of tears came and I bawled like a baby.â
For some younger Mormons, coming out does not mean abandoning their heritage. Brent Brazelton, a 21-year-old English major at Wright State University in Dayton, Ohio, did missionary work in Taiwan for nine months. But he cut his service short, returning home with a tremendous sense of shame but also relief. âI realized I was no less gay than when I left,â he says. âI had come to terms with it and went home early.â His mission president, who âthreatened fire and brimstone,â was displeased, but Brazelton has been embraced by his family. After attending church for several months after returning from Taiwan, Brazelton became inactive, returning to services only on holidays, if at all.
Nevertheless, he says, Iâm culturally a Mormon. That means you donât drink, you donât smoke, and you joke about Jell-O. I still live the lifestyle, aside from my boyfriend.âThe End