The first version of results regarding the LGBT Mormon Survey has been released.
Contains explanations about the charts released in the prelim results.
Please click here:
Version 1 of LDS SSA study newsletter now available
(Previous reference: Prelim Results of LGBT Mormon Survey )
Showing posts with label queer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label queer. Show all posts
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Prelim Results of LGBT Mormon Survey
UPDATE (Jan 7, 2012): Version 1 of LDS SSA study newsletter now available
Some preliminary results are in for the Utah State University conducted LGBT Mormon Survey.
Please click here:
Preliminary Results of LDS-SSA Survey Now Available
(Previous reference: LGBT Mormon Survey)
Some preliminary results are in for the Utah State University conducted LGBT Mormon Survey.
Please click here:
Preliminary Results of LDS-SSA Survey Now Available
(Previous reference: LGBT Mormon Survey)
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
LGBT Mormon Survey
UPDATE (Nov, 9, 2011): Preliminary Results of LDS-SSA Survey Now Available
UPDATE: Survey is closed.
Utah State University is conducting a survey for all Mormons or former Mormons who identify as Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual or Transgender.
Click next to read the consent form and more about the person(s) conducting the Survey.
I completed the survey myself and I found it to be, well, rather cathartic. There are lots of open ended questions and plenty of space to write out experiences, stories and explanations. Of all the surveys I've take in the past which have attempted to research this subject, I feel like this one is was well thought out as opposed to many in the past that felt like they were written by "religious" high school kids or church institutions.
Anyway, if you identify as LGBT Mormons/Ex-Mormons, or even if you don't, as it says in the consent document that it's for non LGBT Mormons as well, I highly recommend it so that you can tell your version of the story in relation to this matter.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Differences Are Normal
Back in September of 2009, I made a smugly moralistic little post called, "My Two Dates".
The point of that post was to talk about a little event where I got asked if I would be interested in joining a couple for a little threesome action. I talked about how I learned a valuable lesson about misjudging people. And then at the end of it, in an attempt to whitewash the fact that I was still a judgmental prick, I said that I was not interested in hooking up with them. But I never really said why. And to be honest, at the time, I wasn't really all that sure myself. I did give some lame-ass excuse about how it would bring up some emotional baggage; as if I had any clue what I was talking about.
Well, truth be told, 6 months later, I found myself chained to the wall of their play room having a good time. This happened twice, on consecutive weekends.
Now, here are the reasons why I'm bringing all this up: 1) my conscience is getting the better of me. Since I had originally said I wasn't interested in doing something only to turn around and do it, I felt like I had some explaining to do. Not that anyone would have known either way, or that I needed to justify myself, I just needed to be honest. 2) I've finally come to terms with the core reason I was uninterested in hooking up in the first place and I've finally been able to put it all into words. That is to say, I sort of knew what it was I had been working out back then, but I hadn't fully understood until now what it was all about. 3) I feel rather smugly moralistic about it all, which, oddly enough, is what's motivating me to write this in the first place.
In the 6 months that followed our initial meeting back in August of 2009, I had managed to get over my fears and initial reservations for avoiding them. Many of my fears had mostly to do with just plain old self-esteem and insecurity. But my reservations or rather, my stated noninterest was rooted in the mindset of looking for my "One True Love". A belief that had been culled from the many, downright useless, beliefs regarding the purposes of sex, intimacy and relationships, which were all framed within the context of traditional religious ideals, namely, the Mormon kind. So, naturally, play time with a couple who have been together for 15 years wasn't going to get me into a relationship of that kind. Although, it could develop into some other kind of relationship, not that this one was, but whether it happened or not, it was not the goal anyway, I was simply not interested in doing anything unless it fit within the set of "values" that I been accustom to. So, I was willing to pass up an opportunity for some serious adult oriented fun.
I had grown up around the idea of the traditional Mormon polygamist family and I knew about Polyandry from studying all the many forms of BDSM relationship dynamics that embraced it. So, back in 2007 when I was first coming out, I was prepared to admit to my mom at the time, that I could not say that such arrangements would never happen and that I could see myself living in a nontraditional dynamic in the future. It was an attempt to plant a seed in her mind that the rules have changed; the expectations of normality must be adjusted. There is no "one right way" of defining a family. To my surprise, she added to that by telling me her understanding of family, which included even more combinations that I had never imagined. She was already ahead of the game.
However, I still held back. I still had my doubts if such things really were for me or not. I realized in the end that I was still in love with the idea of the perfect, white-picketed, fenced-in, nuclear family, that I had grown up to believe was the only way that was truly acceptable in society or at least in Mormon cultural society. To make matters worse, the gay marriage debate was raging in the media and I found myself caught up in the whirlwind, trying to prove to the world that gay people were normal, that they were just like everyone else. But, it was like going back into the closet all over again. I had a hard time figuring out how I was going to get the queer world that made sense to me, fit in with what everyone else expected the gay world should be. I wanted the freedom to live an honest life but not make others uncomfortable. I don't know how I was going to do that. I was trying to have it both ways. And in the end, the big question that I was not asking was, "why do I still try to garner their acceptance anyway?"
In all of this, the core issue to embrace was, if I'm going to live honestly and with any modicum of dignity and self-respect, I will stop trying so hard to live by their "rules". I am gay, but more than that, I am queer. There is no way I'm going to fit within the "rules" of the prevailing religious society's notion of the traditional, patriarchal family, no matter what I do. So, essentially, I get to decide what constitutes the "purpose" of sex within the context of my relationships and I get to decide what constitutes my own family. Whether it's comprised of a same-sex couple who fosters or adopts children, or whether it's comprised of several same-sex adults who all share partnership roles, or a partner and those that make up the "extended" family. There could even be a hierarchy just like in the traditional or historical sense but with different names, titles, and meanings. It doesn't matter. I get to define what family, friends and sex are within the context of my own values that work for me. And today there are millions out there, gay and non-gay, who happily and joyfully do just that.
So, as it stands, the gay marriage debate will continue, obviously, as many people will be seeking to be part of that normalcy and continue to fight for it. And that's OK. But I'm no longer interested in fighting. Because, truth be told, it's all a bunch of crap! It's not to say that I don't support it or I won't be part of it someday, I may get married, but in the end, I don't believe, considering the way I view and choose to live my life, that my family, whatever form it takes, will ever be treated with any sort of respect whether I'm married or not. Because the basic fact is, we, as queer folk, are not normal. We are different.
There is nothing wrong with being different. But, spending any more time trying to convince a religious society that can't abide difference is a complete waste of my life. And that is what most of the gay marriage political debating has been about, gay couples having to put up their best possible face to show the world just how normal they really are. This for me means compromising my self-expression, my integrity, my sanity, to appease those that can't or won't embrace what they don't understand. I'm not going to waste my time hiding and I'm done trying to change their minds.
We, queers, must make our own rules and live by them. And it's not by the norms of an authoritarian religious society that we are to be comparing ourselves. If we allow that, we are falling into the expectations of those who have never questioned why their normal familial traditions make them so bloody miserable. And we might as well be miserable right along with them. Sure, they will judge us by their standards, there is no way of getting around it, but they are in the wrong when they do. They are the ultimate hypocrites if they think their normality is applicable to us. And we are wrong if we try to get them to think our difference is not different.
The great automatons that comprise most of the religiously bound human race are lost in a sea of sameness. A lack of perspective and creativity in thought and reason, they have failed to embrace diversity, thus they have failed to embrace what's important. And sadly, they are trapped there, consumed by fear of things they are also afraid to understand.
I know I keep reiterating this but I want it made clear! It's not my place to fit within their reality, to erase my differences so that they can think I'm normal. The responsibility actually lies on them to broaden, allow and embrace the differences into their definition of normal. They mistakenly believe that to do that, they would have to compromise their core values, which they say they shouldn't have to do. Just like how I'm saying I shouldn't have to compromise mine for them. But what they must understand is that I'm not compelling them to live my life the way they are compelling me to live theirs. My core values are values I impose upon myself whereas their core values are values they want imposed on others.
I've been foolish in thinking I could measure up to their expectations because they seek and impose an unattainable perfection. And as they continue to do so, their definition of normal narrows, which makes their definition of perfection narrow. Thus, any possible embracement of difference becomes impossible. I've also been foolish in expecting them to look beyond their fears. I know how hard it is for them. I also know that they must make the effort on their own if they ever want to look beyond those fears. No one can do it for them! But I can't wait forever.
In essence, what I'm saying is, my search for acceptance from the Mormons has been put to rest. My ship has sailed. If they want to leave that "Great and Spacious Building" to get across the river now, they'll have to build one themselves. They have been given the tools, materials and the plans; all they need is the desire. Once they do, I'll be here ready to receive them.
The point of that post was to talk about a little event where I got asked if I would be interested in joining a couple for a little threesome action. I talked about how I learned a valuable lesson about misjudging people. And then at the end of it, in an attempt to whitewash the fact that I was still a judgmental prick, I said that I was not interested in hooking up with them. But I never really said why. And to be honest, at the time, I wasn't really all that sure myself. I did give some lame-ass excuse about how it would bring up some emotional baggage; as if I had any clue what I was talking about.
Well, truth be told, 6 months later, I found myself chained to the wall of their play room having a good time. This happened twice, on consecutive weekends.
Now, here are the reasons why I'm bringing all this up: 1) my conscience is getting the better of me. Since I had originally said I wasn't interested in doing something only to turn around and do it, I felt like I had some explaining to do. Not that anyone would have known either way, or that I needed to justify myself, I just needed to be honest. 2) I've finally come to terms with the core reason I was uninterested in hooking up in the first place and I've finally been able to put it all into words. That is to say, I sort of knew what it was I had been working out back then, but I hadn't fully understood until now what it was all about. 3) I feel rather smugly moralistic about it all, which, oddly enough, is what's motivating me to write this in the first place.
In the 6 months that followed our initial meeting back in August of 2009, I had managed to get over my fears and initial reservations for avoiding them. Many of my fears had mostly to do with just plain old self-esteem and insecurity. But my reservations or rather, my stated noninterest was rooted in the mindset of looking for my "One True Love". A belief that had been culled from the many, downright useless, beliefs regarding the purposes of sex, intimacy and relationships, which were all framed within the context of traditional religious ideals, namely, the Mormon kind. So, naturally, play time with a couple who have been together for 15 years wasn't going to get me into a relationship of that kind. Although, it could develop into some other kind of relationship, not that this one was, but whether it happened or not, it was not the goal anyway, I was simply not interested in doing anything unless it fit within the set of "values" that I been accustom to. So, I was willing to pass up an opportunity for some serious adult oriented fun.
I had grown up around the idea of the traditional Mormon polygamist family and I knew about Polyandry from studying all the many forms of BDSM relationship dynamics that embraced it. So, back in 2007 when I was first coming out, I was prepared to admit to my mom at the time, that I could not say that such arrangements would never happen and that I could see myself living in a nontraditional dynamic in the future. It was an attempt to plant a seed in her mind that the rules have changed; the expectations of normality must be adjusted. There is no "one right way" of defining a family. To my surprise, she added to that by telling me her understanding of family, which included even more combinations that I had never imagined. She was already ahead of the game.
However, I still held back. I still had my doubts if such things really were for me or not. I realized in the end that I was still in love with the idea of the perfect, white-picketed, fenced-in, nuclear family, that I had grown up to believe was the only way that was truly acceptable in society or at least in Mormon cultural society. To make matters worse, the gay marriage debate was raging in the media and I found myself caught up in the whirlwind, trying to prove to the world that gay people were normal, that they were just like everyone else. But, it was like going back into the closet all over again. I had a hard time figuring out how I was going to get the queer world that made sense to me, fit in with what everyone else expected the gay world should be. I wanted the freedom to live an honest life but not make others uncomfortable. I don't know how I was going to do that. I was trying to have it both ways. And in the end, the big question that I was not asking was, "why do I still try to garner their acceptance anyway?"
In all of this, the core issue to embrace was, if I'm going to live honestly and with any modicum of dignity and self-respect, I will stop trying so hard to live by their "rules". I am gay, but more than that, I am queer. There is no way I'm going to fit within the "rules" of the prevailing religious society's notion of the traditional, patriarchal family, no matter what I do. So, essentially, I get to decide what constitutes the "purpose" of sex within the context of my relationships and I get to decide what constitutes my own family. Whether it's comprised of a same-sex couple who fosters or adopts children, or whether it's comprised of several same-sex adults who all share partnership roles, or a partner and those that make up the "extended" family. There could even be a hierarchy just like in the traditional or historical sense but with different names, titles, and meanings. It doesn't matter. I get to define what family, friends and sex are within the context of my own values that work for me. And today there are millions out there, gay and non-gay, who happily and joyfully do just that.
So, as it stands, the gay marriage debate will continue, obviously, as many people will be seeking to be part of that normalcy and continue to fight for it. And that's OK. But I'm no longer interested in fighting. Because, truth be told, it's all a bunch of crap! It's not to say that I don't support it or I won't be part of it someday, I may get married, but in the end, I don't believe, considering the way I view and choose to live my life, that my family, whatever form it takes, will ever be treated with any sort of respect whether I'm married or not. Because the basic fact is, we, as queer folk, are not normal. We are different.
There is nothing wrong with being different. But, spending any more time trying to convince a religious society that can't abide difference is a complete waste of my life. And that is what most of the gay marriage political debating has been about, gay couples having to put up their best possible face to show the world just how normal they really are. This for me means compromising my self-expression, my integrity, my sanity, to appease those that can't or won't embrace what they don't understand. I'm not going to waste my time hiding and I'm done trying to change their minds.
We, queers, must make our own rules and live by them. And it's not by the norms of an authoritarian religious society that we are to be comparing ourselves. If we allow that, we are falling into the expectations of those who have never questioned why their normal familial traditions make them so bloody miserable. And we might as well be miserable right along with them. Sure, they will judge us by their standards, there is no way of getting around it, but they are in the wrong when they do. They are the ultimate hypocrites if they think their normality is applicable to us. And we are wrong if we try to get them to think our difference is not different.
The great automatons that comprise most of the religiously bound human race are lost in a sea of sameness. A lack of perspective and creativity in thought and reason, they have failed to embrace diversity, thus they have failed to embrace what's important. And sadly, they are trapped there, consumed by fear of things they are also afraid to understand.
I know I keep reiterating this but I want it made clear! It's not my place to fit within their reality, to erase my differences so that they can think I'm normal. The responsibility actually lies on them to broaden, allow and embrace the differences into their definition of normal. They mistakenly believe that to do that, they would have to compromise their core values, which they say they shouldn't have to do. Just like how I'm saying I shouldn't have to compromise mine for them. But what they must understand is that I'm not compelling them to live my life the way they are compelling me to live theirs. My core values are values I impose upon myself whereas their core values are values they want imposed on others.
I've been foolish in thinking I could measure up to their expectations because they seek and impose an unattainable perfection. And as they continue to do so, their definition of normal narrows, which makes their definition of perfection narrow. Thus, any possible embracement of difference becomes impossible. I've also been foolish in expecting them to look beyond their fears. I know how hard it is for them. I also know that they must make the effort on their own if they ever want to look beyond those fears. No one can do it for them! But I can't wait forever.
In essence, what I'm saying is, my search for acceptance from the Mormons has been put to rest. My ship has sailed. If they want to leave that "Great and Spacious Building" to get across the river now, they'll have to build one themselves. They have been given the tools, materials and the plans; all they need is the desire. Once they do, I'll be here ready to receive them.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Gender Doesn't Make the Man
Craig posted a video. (embedded below) Please watch.
I could only express such things in limited ways to only my closest friends and family. But the way I would express them could only be described as petulant and detached. I wanted it understood that I didn't like the way things where but I didn't want people to think I was that passionate about it.
But secretly, I was very passionate, and very much troubled by the ridiculous and meaningless social rules that pitted me against my feelings. Of all the things I hated most about the world, it was the notion that our gender would dictate a right and wrong way to think, behave or just simply be.
I was one of those little queer kids who wanted to dress up in my mom's jewelry and her 6-inch pumps. When I was 5 years old, my first Halloween costume was that of a witch, with black flowing robes and the pointy hat. At that age I didn't make any distinctions between what the boys were suppose to be and the girls were suppose to be. I like what I liked, whether it was long frilly skirts, the Easy-Bake oven, or Lincoln Logs and Matchbox cars. I liked it all and I wanted it all. And up until a certain point, I was allowed to have it all, although, it was never to the extent that the lucky little boy, Dyson Kilodavis of Seattle has had.
Over time, as I got older, I started to notice that there were these set roles. Strict categories labeled "good" and "bad" depending on the gender of the individual to which those roles were being played out. And when I weighed these new rules to my own desires and actions, I started to feel like I was deeply flawed, terrible and a bad person. But, for some reason, I've been able to keep myself somewhat resolved in not totally internalizing that negativity towards myself. Even during that extreme but brief period in Jr, High and High School, I was able to resist taking on that self-loathing completely. But then, during that time, I think I had forgotten what it was I was trying to hide from anyway.
Well, I'm not going to let what society or religion dictates to me how I should be. But to be clear, this doesn't mean I'm going to go out and start cross dressing or wearing makeup. Just because it's something that is usually associated with women doesn't mean that I want it. Sometimes I think most of what the women do is shit that some men have dictated to them that they should do. No, I'm only talking strictly about what I want.
So, what it really comes down to is this: If I like it, I'm doing it. If some ignorant fool wants to give me shit about it, like the time I wore my knee-high moccasins to a macho, hetero-centrist tourist destination on the east coast, it's not my problem. Their opinions have no power over me, that is until I'm physically assaulted which is a topic I'm just not ready to deal with.
I could only express such things in limited ways to only my closest friends and family. But the way I would express them could only be described as petulant and detached. I wanted it understood that I didn't like the way things where but I didn't want people to think I was that passionate about it.
But secretly, I was very passionate, and very much troubled by the ridiculous and meaningless social rules that pitted me against my feelings. Of all the things I hated most about the world, it was the notion that our gender would dictate a right and wrong way to think, behave or just simply be.
I was one of those little queer kids who wanted to dress up in my mom's jewelry and her 6-inch pumps. When I was 5 years old, my first Halloween costume was that of a witch, with black flowing robes and the pointy hat. At that age I didn't make any distinctions between what the boys were suppose to be and the girls were suppose to be. I like what I liked, whether it was long frilly skirts, the Easy-Bake oven, or Lincoln Logs and Matchbox cars. I liked it all and I wanted it all. And up until a certain point, I was allowed to have it all, although, it was never to the extent that the lucky little boy, Dyson Kilodavis of Seattle has had.
Over time, as I got older, I started to notice that there were these set roles. Strict categories labeled "good" and "bad" depending on the gender of the individual to which those roles were being played out. And when I weighed these new rules to my own desires and actions, I started to feel like I was deeply flawed, terrible and a bad person. But, for some reason, I've been able to keep myself somewhat resolved in not totally internalizing that negativity towards myself. Even during that extreme but brief period in Jr, High and High School, I was able to resist taking on that self-loathing completely. But then, during that time, I think I had forgotten what it was I was trying to hide from anyway.
Well, I'm not going to let what society or religion dictates to me how I should be. But to be clear, this doesn't mean I'm going to go out and start cross dressing or wearing makeup. Just because it's something that is usually associated with women doesn't mean that I want it. Sometimes I think most of what the women do is shit that some men have dictated to them that they should do. No, I'm only talking strictly about what I want.
So, what it really comes down to is this: If I like it, I'm doing it. If some ignorant fool wants to give me shit about it, like the time I wore my knee-high moccasins to a macho, hetero-centrist tourist destination on the east coast, it's not my problem. Their opinions have no power over me, that is until I'm physically assaulted which is a topic I'm just not ready to deal with.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
My Right to Wear Spandex
The following Facebook status was entered by one of my friends:
Then a few seconds later it was followed up by:
I don't get this as a joke. I understand that it's supposed to be funny but for some reason it bugs the ever living crap out of me. Who the fuck says people have to obtain the right to wear spandex?
I understand that this is underlying a joke about our poor self-esteem issues regarding our own bodies. I can understand that, I had just completed posting pictures of me and my fat ass, trotting around on a horse minutes before. And yes, I even made a comment about how that skinny-ass horse made my fat-ass look fat. They were both self deprecating jokes, so, to be fair, since I was bothered by someone's joke, I can understand if my joke might bother someone else. (Other than my use of the words "fat" & "ass") I seriously don't intend to offend. I think.
However, I believe my joke is less likely to offend. I'm not trying to say anything about what someone chooses to wear whereas my friend is. I'm directly mocking my body despite the clothing, whereas he is directing people away from his unshapely body type by mocking spandex. Granted, I did make a comment about my riding breeches making my ass look fat. But I was actually wearing them! My friend, on the other hand, has probably never worn spandex in his life.
Spandex, made from a supper stretchy material called Lycra! A type of clothing that accentuates the human (especially male) form in lovely ways, feels great, and it's fun and practical to wear. I wear it. Granted, with my current fat ass, I don't wear in public. Or if I do, it's not visible.
Ok, I think I'm rambling now and I might be starting to talk in circles here. I just wish we weren't so judgmental to others and ourselves about our fat asses in spandex.
Now, that fat ass thing, isn't really the core issue for me though, because what's hitting me in the back of my head about all of this judgmental spandex wearing is the truth of the matter, that even if I had a skinny, sexy ass, the judgmental spandex wearing would continue and it would even be worse. Why? Because I'm a man. Simple as that! And only the "faggoty" men wear spandex. That's what I grew up hearing in my neck of the Utah Mormon cultural landscape. God I hate that word "faggoty"! OK, to be honest, I only remember hearing it once, but goddamn, it rang in my head for years!
Now, I'm not talking about the spandex common to biking; I'm talking about the spandex made famous by those big hair metal bands from the 80's. That spandex caused me to stare uncontrollably at all of the male crotches who wore it. I would secretly watch Friday Night Videos in hopes to catch a glimpse of a spandex clad, skinny ass, with a big bulge in front. I didn't care who they were or what the music was. I was just interested in the spandex and how that spandex was filled. Bonus points if the spandex had a bright colored print.
Basically, spandex was all about sex. There I've said it. Sex! Fetish! And since I was just entering into the pubescent stage at the height of the 80's hair bands, my hormones raged. The more my hormones raged, the more I wanted to see, have, feel spandex, the guiltier I felt, the more distance I would publicly put between me and my fetishes, the less likely I would ever have of wearing it. Sad, isn't it? It wasn't until well into my late 20's early 30's did I finally buy some spandex. And even then, I did it as anonymously as possible over the Internet. Talk about living in complete and utter shame!
OK, now, I didn't suddenly develop a spandex fetish during that time, I already knew I had one as young as 5 when I wore some tights for a little school play. Yes, at age 5, I had experienced an indescribable emotional thrill from wearing them. Emotional! Not sexual! So, those so-called experts who like to say we develop fetishes for things because of our misdirected sexual outlet are all idiots. There may be some truth to that, but in my experience, I haven't been successful at developing fetishes, I can only discover them!
Ok, if I go on much more with this I won't be able to post it to this blog. This was supposed to be about how someone's joke triggered a mild frustration in me that is masking a deeper seething rage. Yes, it's true, as much as I would like to think I've put my past behind me, I still have some baggage. And I've been discovering over the past few years that my baggage is mostly about sex. This has caused me some real and embarrassing problems in the physical intimacy department.
Actually, I still have symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. This may seem like a joke at this point but it's not. It has really been frustrating getting past a lot of the emotional and spiritual abuse I went through. I'm doing really well considering, but something this seemingly innocuous will pop up on occasion and really send me into a dive. I just want to fucking scream! I believe my cultish upbringing has robbed me of being able to experience fully one of the joys of being human. Why? Because somewhere along the way, a few people had some serious hang-ups about sex and wanted to make sure everyone else in the Mormon hive-mind had them as well, so they institutionalized them into church doctrine.
Erm, I wonder who they were? Anyone?
Fuck them!
[Name withheld] good to be alive and good to feel like I'm walking to a bee gee vibe... I'm staying alive..
Then a few seconds later it was followed up by:
[Name withheld]... that doesn't give me the right to wear spandex and strut however..actually..hmmm..
I don't get this as a joke. I understand that it's supposed to be funny but for some reason it bugs the ever living crap out of me. Who the fuck says people have to obtain the right to wear spandex?
I understand that this is underlying a joke about our poor self-esteem issues regarding our own bodies. I can understand that, I had just completed posting pictures of me and my fat ass, trotting around on a horse minutes before. And yes, I even made a comment about how that skinny-ass horse made my fat-ass look fat. They were both self deprecating jokes, so, to be fair, since I was bothered by someone's joke, I can understand if my joke might bother someone else. (Other than my use of the words "fat" & "ass") I seriously don't intend to offend. I think.
However, I believe my joke is less likely to offend. I'm not trying to say anything about what someone chooses to wear whereas my friend is. I'm directly mocking my body despite the clothing, whereas he is directing people away from his unshapely body type by mocking spandex. Granted, I did make a comment about my riding breeches making my ass look fat. But I was actually wearing them! My friend, on the other hand, has probably never worn spandex in his life.
Spandex, made from a supper stretchy material called Lycra! A type of clothing that accentuates the human (especially male) form in lovely ways, feels great, and it's fun and practical to wear. I wear it. Granted, with my current fat ass, I don't wear in public. Or if I do, it's not visible.
Ok, I think I'm rambling now and I might be starting to talk in circles here. I just wish we weren't so judgmental to others and ourselves about our fat asses in spandex.
Now, that fat ass thing, isn't really the core issue for me though, because what's hitting me in the back of my head about all of this judgmental spandex wearing is the truth of the matter, that even if I had a skinny, sexy ass, the judgmental spandex wearing would continue and it would even be worse. Why? Because I'm a man. Simple as that! And only the "faggoty" men wear spandex. That's what I grew up hearing in my neck of the Utah Mormon cultural landscape. God I hate that word "faggoty"! OK, to be honest, I only remember hearing it once, but goddamn, it rang in my head for years!
Now, I'm not talking about the spandex common to biking; I'm talking about the spandex made famous by those big hair metal bands from the 80's. That spandex caused me to stare uncontrollably at all of the male crotches who wore it. I would secretly watch Friday Night Videos in hopes to catch a glimpse of a spandex clad, skinny ass, with a big bulge in front. I didn't care who they were or what the music was. I was just interested in the spandex and how that spandex was filled. Bonus points if the spandex had a bright colored print.
Basically, spandex was all about sex. There I've said it. Sex! Fetish! And since I was just entering into the pubescent stage at the height of the 80's hair bands, my hormones raged. The more my hormones raged, the more I wanted to see, have, feel spandex, the guiltier I felt, the more distance I would publicly put between me and my fetishes, the less likely I would ever have of wearing it. Sad, isn't it? It wasn't until well into my late 20's early 30's did I finally buy some spandex. And even then, I did it as anonymously as possible over the Internet. Talk about living in complete and utter shame!
OK, now, I didn't suddenly develop a spandex fetish during that time, I already knew I had one as young as 5 when I wore some tights for a little school play. Yes, at age 5, I had experienced an indescribable emotional thrill from wearing them. Emotional! Not sexual! So, those so-called experts who like to say we develop fetishes for things because of our misdirected sexual outlet are all idiots. There may be some truth to that, but in my experience, I haven't been successful at developing fetishes, I can only discover them!
Ok, if I go on much more with this I won't be able to post it to this blog. This was supposed to be about how someone's joke triggered a mild frustration in me that is masking a deeper seething rage. Yes, it's true, as much as I would like to think I've put my past behind me, I still have some baggage. And I've been discovering over the past few years that my baggage is mostly about sex. This has caused me some real and embarrassing problems in the physical intimacy department.
Actually, I still have symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. This may seem like a joke at this point but it's not. It has really been frustrating getting past a lot of the emotional and spiritual abuse I went through. I'm doing really well considering, but something this seemingly innocuous will pop up on occasion and really send me into a dive. I just want to fucking scream! I believe my cultish upbringing has robbed me of being able to experience fully one of the joys of being human. Why? Because somewhere along the way, a few people had some serious hang-ups about sex and wanted to make sure everyone else in the Mormon hive-mind had them as well, so they institutionalized them into church doctrine.
Erm, I wonder who they were? Anyone?
Fuck them!
Monday, May 3, 2010
Where am I going?
It's happening again. I'm finding that I'm withdrawing into myself. I'm not out seeking people to talk to, despite my increased activity commenting on other's blogs; I'm not interested in a dialog. I'm just talking. Talking for the sake of wanting, needing, having something to say. And I've been saying a lot.
It seems silly to write huge comments on other's blogs when I not looking for interaction. Better to just write a big long post here that says the same thing and have it all in a concise easy to find location. I have a hard time remembering where I've posted my comments many times. Subscribing only works for a while and only if other people make comments. But, eventually, the activity dies down and it's all forgotten.
Looking in my Google reader, I am currently following 226 (and counting) blogs. Granted a few are Info/News sites and about a dozen or so of them are BDSM related, but the rest are very much the MoHo (Mormon Homosexual) blogosphere. I spend a lot of time poking into other people's lives. Mostly lurking, looking on from the outside. But I'm also moving further to the outside. Further away from the blogging community that I've currently found myself in.
I never set out to get blog listed into the infamous MoHo blogosphere, but it's there. I don't really know when it happened. I just noticed it one day. I was both honored and irritated by it at the same time. It honored me to get exposure, irritated me because it drove me to write things that would appeal to that particular audience. I felt a bit cornered. And I think it kept me from phasing out of the MoHo blogosphere arena as my ideas evolved. I don't consider myself a Mormon. I had resigned from the Mormon church the previous year before officially starting this blog.
So, as I've been commenting on other bogs I'm realizing more so now than ever before that I think very differently than most MoHo's. I don't connect with those who are still seeking acceptance with the religion and their religious family. I was never fully part of the Mormon culture growing up and I had given up even trying to be accepted by the culture long before I ever dealt with my sexuality, which then cemented the dichotomy into permanence. Ironic in that it took me years to discover and undo the habitual faking behaviors that I had developed as a coping mechanism to at least get by. Even though I wore tall black boots and long hair, I still had to conform in some things to keep the peace.
My family has been supportive for the most part but, by the time I got to dealing with my sexuality, I had essentially stopped caring about their acceptance anyway. Well, except for my mom, but she's the one who help me accept my homosexuality so her acceptance quickly became a moot point.
So, I don't really feel like I'm understood or accepted in the MoHo community because my experiences have been unlike what most are dealing with. And my spiritual journey, which does not involve Christianity, seems to be too esoteric (if not outright disturbing) for many. I've always felt like I've been on a different road and my adventure into the MoHo community was essentially a brief intersection. It's just I've sort of lingered here for a bit watching the action when I really should have just kept on driving.
It's not just the blogs; I'm also on various MoHo Yahoo groups too. I've become too liberal for them too. I've become even too liberal for Affirmation: Gay and Lesbian Mormons. I used to think they were too liberal.
Perhaps, I'm over generalizing people. I'm still connected to the MoHo world because I'm still very much a product of the Mormon culture from which this all has its roots. I'm just on a completely different road "out of here" than what it seems most people are traveling.
But I do keep reading them. I keep following them. Why?
I'm looking for people who are on the same road as me. I'm hoping that I will find someone I can make the same journey with on the same road "out of here". Each person out there who writes something that provokes a thought, an emotion, even a hidden resentment in me; I hope that they could be someone whom I can share the lonely road of self discovery. But when I open up and share my perspective, blank stares ensue. Granted, whenever someone expresses their hope that the church will someday grant them a gay temple wedding, I have a blank stare of my own. I'm a hypocrite. But I'm not going to try and convince them it's a lost cause. I do remember how hopeful I felt once. It's not my place to crush other people's dreams. I'm too busy letting my self-doubt crush mine anyway.
Ugh!
But that's not all, there is also this:
I'm also spending time watching my email inbox and Facebook page, and waiting for people to talk to me. But when they do, I ignore them.
My Facebook inbox has messages waiting for me. People poking, inquiring, wanting to know what has been going on in my life. My email inbox has a few people waiting on me too. Last Sunday I finally replied to someone after ignoring him for two months. I'm sure he gave up on me. Still, I have another one that I dropped the ball on 18 months ago. 18 MONTHS! And I have it highlighted in my inbox reminding me to reply. But none of these people are the people whom I want to talk to.
If I could just get honest with myself right now and admit that I'm really waiting for a particular person to call or write to me. And at the same time, I'm dreading it.
This person whom, over the past year I've developed feelings for. We used to have long and interesting email and phone conversations. He has been the closest and most intimate contact I've ever had with a potential partner since the mid 90's. And yet, we live on opposite sides of the country across three time zones. We are 17 years apart in age and we have never met face to face. We both set a goal together to meet up and attend Folsom Street Fair in San Francisco this year, a goal that I still have no idea if I can turn in to a reality.
The last few emails I've sent where short, sort of a "hello I'm still here" type of thing. They were weeks ago. We are 'friends' on Facebook. He spends a good deal of time on there posting comments about food, cats and politics. I sometimes write flirty comments on his posts. They seem to be ignored most of the time. I fear that he will delete them. (God, I hope he doesn’t read this.)
I worry that I've developed feelings for someone that will not or cannot reciprocate. My fear is that I've let myself fall in to another desperate, one sided, needy, pathetic relationship. He's busy yes, so am I. But the amount of time he spends on Facebook has given me doubts as to his honest interest in me. Especially if he will not reciprocate even a simple flirt on Facebook, even though he has told me in past emails he thinks of me often. But, those emails were weeks and months ago.
I can't even begin to touch on the things that irritate me about him, which causes me to hate my predicament even more. Seems unfair to be going through this seeing as we've been only acquaintances for about a year.
I'm desperate, one sided, needy and pathetic, indeed!
Is this what relationship angst feels like? I don't recall ever going through this stuff in high school or college. Is that what teens and young adults experience? It this how it works?
God I've rambled on.
It seems silly to write huge comments on other's blogs when I not looking for interaction. Better to just write a big long post here that says the same thing and have it all in a concise easy to find location. I have a hard time remembering where I've posted my comments many times. Subscribing only works for a while and only if other people make comments. But, eventually, the activity dies down and it's all forgotten.
Looking in my Google reader, I am currently following 226 (and counting) blogs. Granted a few are Info/News sites and about a dozen or so of them are BDSM related, but the rest are very much the MoHo (Mormon Homosexual) blogosphere. I spend a lot of time poking into other people's lives. Mostly lurking, looking on from the outside. But I'm also moving further to the outside. Further away from the blogging community that I've currently found myself in.
I never set out to get blog listed into the infamous MoHo blogosphere, but it's there. I don't really know when it happened. I just noticed it one day. I was both honored and irritated by it at the same time. It honored me to get exposure, irritated me because it drove me to write things that would appeal to that particular audience. I felt a bit cornered. And I think it kept me from phasing out of the MoHo blogosphere arena as my ideas evolved. I don't consider myself a Mormon. I had resigned from the Mormon church the previous year before officially starting this blog.
So, as I've been commenting on other bogs I'm realizing more so now than ever before that I think very differently than most MoHo's. I don't connect with those who are still seeking acceptance with the religion and their religious family. I was never fully part of the Mormon culture growing up and I had given up even trying to be accepted by the culture long before I ever dealt with my sexuality, which then cemented the dichotomy into permanence. Ironic in that it took me years to discover and undo the habitual faking behaviors that I had developed as a coping mechanism to at least get by. Even though I wore tall black boots and long hair, I still had to conform in some things to keep the peace.
My family has been supportive for the most part but, by the time I got to dealing with my sexuality, I had essentially stopped caring about their acceptance anyway. Well, except for my mom, but she's the one who help me accept my homosexuality so her acceptance quickly became a moot point.
So, I don't really feel like I'm understood or accepted in the MoHo community because my experiences have been unlike what most are dealing with. And my spiritual journey, which does not involve Christianity, seems to be too esoteric (if not outright disturbing) for many. I've always felt like I've been on a different road and my adventure into the MoHo community was essentially a brief intersection. It's just I've sort of lingered here for a bit watching the action when I really should have just kept on driving.
It's not just the blogs; I'm also on various MoHo Yahoo groups too. I've become too liberal for them too. I've become even too liberal for Affirmation: Gay and Lesbian Mormons. I used to think they were too liberal.
Perhaps, I'm over generalizing people. I'm still connected to the MoHo world because I'm still very much a product of the Mormon culture from which this all has its roots. I'm just on a completely different road "out of here" than what it seems most people are traveling.
But I do keep reading them. I keep following them. Why?
I'm looking for people who are on the same road as me. I'm hoping that I will find someone I can make the same journey with on the same road "out of here". Each person out there who writes something that provokes a thought, an emotion, even a hidden resentment in me; I hope that they could be someone whom I can share the lonely road of self discovery. But when I open up and share my perspective, blank stares ensue. Granted, whenever someone expresses their hope that the church will someday grant them a gay temple wedding, I have a blank stare of my own. I'm a hypocrite. But I'm not going to try and convince them it's a lost cause. I do remember how hopeful I felt once. It's not my place to crush other people's dreams. I'm too busy letting my self-doubt crush mine anyway.
Ugh!
But that's not all, there is also this:
I'm also spending time watching my email inbox and Facebook page, and waiting for people to talk to me. But when they do, I ignore them.
My Facebook inbox has messages waiting for me. People poking, inquiring, wanting to know what has been going on in my life. My email inbox has a few people waiting on me too. Last Sunday I finally replied to someone after ignoring him for two months. I'm sure he gave up on me. Still, I have another one that I dropped the ball on 18 months ago. 18 MONTHS! And I have it highlighted in my inbox reminding me to reply. But none of these people are the people whom I want to talk to.
If I could just get honest with myself right now and admit that I'm really waiting for a particular person to call or write to me. And at the same time, I'm dreading it.
This person whom, over the past year I've developed feelings for. We used to have long and interesting email and phone conversations. He has been the closest and most intimate contact I've ever had with a potential partner since the mid 90's. And yet, we live on opposite sides of the country across three time zones. We are 17 years apart in age and we have never met face to face. We both set a goal together to meet up and attend Folsom Street Fair in San Francisco this year, a goal that I still have no idea if I can turn in to a reality.
The last few emails I've sent where short, sort of a "hello I'm still here" type of thing. They were weeks ago. We are 'friends' on Facebook. He spends a good deal of time on there posting comments about food, cats and politics. I sometimes write flirty comments on his posts. They seem to be ignored most of the time. I fear that he will delete them. (God, I hope he doesn’t read this.)
I worry that I've developed feelings for someone that will not or cannot reciprocate. My fear is that I've let myself fall in to another desperate, one sided, needy, pathetic relationship. He's busy yes, so am I. But the amount of time he spends on Facebook has given me doubts as to his honest interest in me. Especially if he will not reciprocate even a simple flirt on Facebook, even though he has told me in past emails he thinks of me often. But, those emails were weeks and months ago.
I can't even begin to touch on the things that irritate me about him, which causes me to hate my predicament even more. Seems unfair to be going through this seeing as we've been only acquaintances for about a year.
I'm desperate, one sided, needy and pathetic, indeed!
Is this what relationship angst feels like? I don't recall ever going through this stuff in high school or college. Is that what teens and young adults experience? It this how it works?
God I've rambled on.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
I am a Queer Spirit
Well it's been a few weeks since the Queer Spirit Retreat out in Utah and I've just now had a chance to take a moment and decompress the jumble of thoughts in my head.
The retreat was an amazingly positive experience for me and completely opposite of what the LDS religion could ever offer. And in a sense, because it was in September, it marked the two year reunion of my personal crisis that led me down the road of confusion, despair, apostasy, awakening, renewal, joy and peace. Now, two years later, it marks the beginning of a new and happier chapter of my life.
I'm rather amazed at just how little drama my life has anymore. It used to be that so much of my life, every little detail, every little thought, decision, action, expectation, and desire was weighted down with anxiety. Because every little thing had to be scrutinized for its value good or bad, I had to have certainty where something was going to lead me, heaven or hell, and most of the time I just couldn't get it. No longer do I feel the need to do that anymore. Now every so often when I meditate on my life, I amaze myself at just how uncomplicated it all really is when we let go of the things that we have no control over. Letting go. Letting go of beliefs that do not work for us. Letting go of needing to be right. Letting go of ego. And in letting go, what is left is pure authenticity. Honesty.
Oh, the lies we tell and believe. I look back at my life and see the trend as I was spiraling down to my own personal depths of becoming homophobic and how I didn't recognize the irrationality. My world view and personal identity was defined by lies. And those lies covered the pain. My ego was in control of my life, protecting me with lies. The ego is stupid. It doesn't know what a lie is but it wants to protect it no matter what. The ego can't know if what it's protecting is causing more harm. It just protects it with whatever we give it. And what I always gave it were lies.
When I came out to myself and finally accepted my sexuality, I found myself craving absolute honesty. I was no longer going to deceive myself or other people to protect my beliefs or theirs. And if the truth hurt, the honesty hurt, I knew I had to let go of my ego.
When I think about what it takes to be honest I still find myself struggling with it. Growing up in a religious culture that required me to deny the reality of my surroundings so that it would conform to a belief, a lie, has given me this horrible, habitual, dishonest, thinking pattern that I fight with all of the time. So many things where never to be thought, spoken, or acted upon. It all builds up and permeates other aspects of life.
We have to hide our fears and pretend to be happy. We don't want people to think the religion is making us depressed. We don't want to make the church look bad. We certainly don't want to admit to ourselves that we have compromised the things we know to be true so that we can belong to the "one true religion" in order to receive all the blessings from a god that we hope exists. We even convince ourselves that we know that "He" really does exist. Lie after lie after lie. After awhile I didn't know what was true anymore. I didn't even understand how I really felt about things. I couldn't at any moment in my life make a decision without consulting an authority. My thinking was done for me. And yet my life was in shambles.
The world terrified me. Meeting new people terrified me. I would have so much anxiety I could never look at anyone. I could never actually speak honestly. I was so ashamed of myself that I would lie or divert attention to someone else just so people wouldn't pay attention to me. I judged people. The judgments were all lies I told to myself. All lies I believed. It all lead to my own personal crisis two years ago in September where my entire world turned upside down and I spent months dancing on the edge of suicide.
But I finally came to some closure early Saturday morning at the retreat as I noticed two individuals off in the distance standing on the stairway to the upper floor of the 2nd ranch house as I waited to watch the sunrise. I knew they saw me. But I didn't have the courage to talk to them. I still wasn't quite free of my judgmental thinking and how it had ruled my life to the point of mental breakdown. Always judging people by what I think they would be thinking about me, always afraid that they would hate me for my sexuality, queerness and just general social awkwardness. Again, all lies.
But I knew their story from the night before and I was in empathy with them. I had only faced early death as a choice. They were facing it as an inevitability. I had no right to judge anyone, especially myself. Still, that morning, I just stood there for about an hour and cried. Mostly to mourn the loss of my old life, the life that I wanted but never had or will ever have. But in the end, whether I talked to them or not, just their mere presence that morning was a major healing experience for me. And had I spoken to them that day I would have known that they would reciprocate that empathy.
After all these years, looking for my place in the world I didn't realize that I didn't need to leave Utah to find it. Well, actually, I DID need to leave Utah to discover that I didn't need to leave Utah. My community wasn't where I was located; it was the people with whom I associate with. But I was always waiting for someone to come knocking at my door to invite me. Ironically when they did I would judge them too harshly and push them away. I've gotten to that point now where I realize that if I don't go knocking I will never know what it's like to live. And if I'm going to accept someone else's effort to reach out to me I must be able to reach back and be ready to do it blindly. But most importantly, I have to stop judging people. I will never know what others are truly thinking about me anyway and in the end it doesn't matter what they think.
Two years ago I would never have even thought about doing something like this retreat. But here I am. It's really strange to admit this, but after 40 years on this planet, I finally feel like I've grown up a little.
The retreat was an amazingly positive experience for me and completely opposite of what the LDS religion could ever offer. And in a sense, because it was in September, it marked the two year reunion of my personal crisis that led me down the road of confusion, despair, apostasy, awakening, renewal, joy and peace. Now, two years later, it marks the beginning of a new and happier chapter of my life.
I'm rather amazed at just how little drama my life has anymore. It used to be that so much of my life, every little detail, every little thought, decision, action, expectation, and desire was weighted down with anxiety. Because every little thing had to be scrutinized for its value good or bad, I had to have certainty where something was going to lead me, heaven or hell, and most of the time I just couldn't get it. No longer do I feel the need to do that anymore. Now every so often when I meditate on my life, I amaze myself at just how uncomplicated it all really is when we let go of the things that we have no control over. Letting go. Letting go of beliefs that do not work for us. Letting go of needing to be right. Letting go of ego. And in letting go, what is left is pure authenticity. Honesty.
Oh, the lies we tell and believe. I look back at my life and see the trend as I was spiraling down to my own personal depths of becoming homophobic and how I didn't recognize the irrationality. My world view and personal identity was defined by lies. And those lies covered the pain. My ego was in control of my life, protecting me with lies. The ego is stupid. It doesn't know what a lie is but it wants to protect it no matter what. The ego can't know if what it's protecting is causing more harm. It just protects it with whatever we give it. And what I always gave it were lies.
When I came out to myself and finally accepted my sexuality, I found myself craving absolute honesty. I was no longer going to deceive myself or other people to protect my beliefs or theirs. And if the truth hurt, the honesty hurt, I knew I had to let go of my ego.
When I think about what it takes to be honest I still find myself struggling with it. Growing up in a religious culture that required me to deny the reality of my surroundings so that it would conform to a belief, a lie, has given me this horrible, habitual, dishonest, thinking pattern that I fight with all of the time. So many things where never to be thought, spoken, or acted upon. It all builds up and permeates other aspects of life.
We have to hide our fears and pretend to be happy. We don't want people to think the religion is making us depressed. We don't want to make the church look bad. We certainly don't want to admit to ourselves that we have compromised the things we know to be true so that we can belong to the "one true religion" in order to receive all the blessings from a god that we hope exists. We even convince ourselves that we know that "He" really does exist. Lie after lie after lie. After awhile I didn't know what was true anymore. I didn't even understand how I really felt about things. I couldn't at any moment in my life make a decision without consulting an authority. My thinking was done for me. And yet my life was in shambles.
The world terrified me. Meeting new people terrified me. I would have so much anxiety I could never look at anyone. I could never actually speak honestly. I was so ashamed of myself that I would lie or divert attention to someone else just so people wouldn't pay attention to me. I judged people. The judgments were all lies I told to myself. All lies I believed. It all lead to my own personal crisis two years ago in September where my entire world turned upside down and I spent months dancing on the edge of suicide.
But I finally came to some closure early Saturday morning at the retreat as I noticed two individuals off in the distance standing on the stairway to the upper floor of the 2nd ranch house as I waited to watch the sunrise. I knew they saw me. But I didn't have the courage to talk to them. I still wasn't quite free of my judgmental thinking and how it had ruled my life to the point of mental breakdown. Always judging people by what I think they would be thinking about me, always afraid that they would hate me for my sexuality, queerness and just general social awkwardness. Again, all lies.
But I knew their story from the night before and I was in empathy with them. I had only faced early death as a choice. They were facing it as an inevitability. I had no right to judge anyone, especially myself. Still, that morning, I just stood there for about an hour and cried. Mostly to mourn the loss of my old life, the life that I wanted but never had or will ever have. But in the end, whether I talked to them or not, just their mere presence that morning was a major healing experience for me. And had I spoken to them that day I would have known that they would reciprocate that empathy.
After all these years, looking for my place in the world I didn't realize that I didn't need to leave Utah to find it. Well, actually, I DID need to leave Utah to discover that I didn't need to leave Utah. My community wasn't where I was located; it was the people with whom I associate with. But I was always waiting for someone to come knocking at my door to invite me. Ironically when they did I would judge them too harshly and push them away. I've gotten to that point now where I realize that if I don't go knocking I will never know what it's like to live. And if I'm going to accept someone else's effort to reach out to me I must be able to reach back and be ready to do it blindly. But most importantly, I have to stop judging people. I will never know what others are truly thinking about me anyway and in the end it doesn't matter what they think.
Two years ago I would never have even thought about doing something like this retreat. But here I am. It's really strange to admit this, but after 40 years on this planet, I finally feel like I've grown up a little.
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