Add the Words

On Friday night, I attended a screening of the documentary film "Add the Words". It is a potent opus that did its job, convincing me that the cause it chronicles is a worthy one. However, cautious skeptic that I am, I still have some reservations about how the equality war in Idaho is being waged.

The film begins with footage of speeches and sermons being delivered in Africa demonizing homosexual people. The violent rhetoric used is sobering as are the images of African men being publicly shamed and beaten. Those clips are quickly followed by scenes of violence occurring in Russia. An image that firmly stamped itself on my consciousness was that of a young man, presumably gay, being savagely choked in the crook of another man's arm, the crying and coughing victim struggling futilely to free himself from possible death. In those few moments, I understood two things: people really are suffering. even dying, due to hatred aimed at their sexual expression, and we in Idaho who have it somewhat better than people in Africa and Russia are trying to prevent the same scenes from playing out here. Things truly are better in Idaho, but not by much. The naked hatred vented in other parts of the world exists here but is often cloaked with a variably thin veneer of civility.

While I now more fully understand the need to put certain specific words into existing law, I am also concerned about the conduct of those striving to see the inclusion take place. I saw several things during the course of the film that could weaken the cause it champions, a cause I do not want to fail.

First, it is crucial that we who would see the words added take care not to antagonize possible allies. Surely there are other ways of helping the average citizen see their tacit complicity in the oppressive behavior of the Idaho State Senate than blocking the entrances to the halls of government for days at a time. Many of these people have just causes of their own to champion, and frustrating their efforts makes it less likely they will ally themselves with ours. Or, perhaps, it should have been made more explicit to the frustrated people trying to gain access to the Senate chambers that the obstruction they were experiencing is precisely the type of obstruction the Senate itself was imposing on the protesters. The people standing in front of doors with their hands over their mouths were more than a nuisance; they were a physical representation of the stonewalling they experienced themselves.

Second, we must also carefully consider how we respond to our opposition. In one part of the film, former Senator LeFavour stands with her hand over her mouth while a man hypocritically rages at her that she has only violence and hatred in her heart. She protests he is mistaken, but her quiet words only provoke the man to escalate his verbal tirade and it takes a state trooper to get the guy to back off. While Senator LeFavour certainly didn't do anything wrong, this episode illustrates my point. The man was using words and so was the Senator as she opposed his opinion. In essence, she was trying to fight fire with fire and it didn't work. It only gave the man openings to continue ranting and it would have been better for the Senator to remain silent. I am grateful that she, herself, did not allow her distress and anger to overcome her decorum. However, this episode begs the question: Wouldn't acts of kindness or service be a better answer to angry words? Would that not be more likely to win hearts and minds than any amount of talking we could do? There is, indeed, a time for debate, but it must be engaged in sparingly and in a timely fashion. In my own life, I have found hate can only be defeated with unconditional love, and service is that love's truest expression.

Having said that, when we must use words, we must be masters of logical argument, educating ourselves regarding flaws in logic so we can point them out in reasoning used against us and avoid using them ourselves. We must also be certain that the information we use is as correct as possible, with an awareness that any flaw will be exploited by the opposition. Anyone who has been trained in the art of debate understands this. One small instance I saw in the film is when the leader of the Add the Words campaign, a former active LDS person, stated that it was a sin to consume alcohol. Technically, a sin is something that goes against God's commandments. The Word of Wisdom that proscribes imbibing alcohol is "not given by way of commandment." Therefore, it's not technically a sin to consume alcohol, though it can keep you out of the temple. It's this kind of technicality or issue of semantics that damages credibility during a debate.

We cannot afford to become like Napoleon in George Orwell's Animal Farm lest our cause lose its moral imperative. Our words mean nothing if our behavior contradicts them.

Finally, we cannot be victims. In saying this, I am not laying blame on those who have been bashed, fired, denied housing, shamed, etc. I am not saying the social and physical persecution only exists because people bring it on themselves. What I am saying is I have seen an eagerness to assume any adversity faced has bigotry at its root. I have also seen a haste to saint or martyr very complex human beings whose lives have ended by the hands of others or by their own, a status that strips them of their humanity and obscures the full truth of their lives and deaths. This is usually done to bypass rationality, directly appeal to the emotions, and illustrate the need to end persecution through tougher laws, but in reality that tactic weakens our position substantially. The most egregious example of this in the film is the invocation of Matthew Shepard's brutal murder. Enough evidence has come to light to potently suggest Mr. Shepard was murdered more because of his drug dealing than his sexuality. This does not negate the horror of his death, but it does cast doubt on the credibility of those who raised a foundation in his name, labeled his death a hate crime, and hold him out as the poster child for LGBT violence everywhere. The truth will either set you free or bind you depending on whether you accept it or deny it.

Similar simplification occurred in the portrayals of the two local teens who completed suicide. I was acquainted with one of them, and while I do not doubt he was persecuted for his sexuality, he also was known for a tendency to play fast and loose with the truth. This made him unpopular with many people in the gay community, yet these same people have no problem now holding him up as a victim and a face to rally behind.  "It's for the children!" is a cheap tactic used by both sides of this debate to incite people to turn on their tear ducts, abandon reason, and head for their pitchforks and torches. It is vitally important to refrain from making emotional appeals like these and adhere to rational discussion of the facts, however inconvenient, because failing to do so is an exploitable weakness that the opposition eagerly calls us on.

This is truly a human rights issue,  but due to the many people who think we should live in a theocracy, we are often forced to bear the burden of proof regarding the moral rightness of our cause. We must use supportable, well-presented facts to establish that this is a civil rights issue and set aside purely religious objections. Furthermore, we need to change those hearts and minds with the very Christ-like love they say they enshrine.

Joining Up

This post was started on May 20, 2014 and finished today, July 15, 2014.

Today I declared a party affiliation for the first time in twenty-plus years of voting.

I wrestled with this decision for months while I watched the political clouds gather before today's storm. It wasn't so much a question of which party to declare but whether or not I was violating my commitment to truth if I followed through with the course of action I was considering.

In the end, I sold out to power. If my vote was to have any potency at all to direct the course of things affecting me, I had to identify myself as a Republican. Frankly, it was worth it. The people I was most afraid of didn't win and the people who did win are people under whose rule I can live.

Even though I fear we're all headed for a big crash, I have to do what I can within the limits of my integrity to prevent it. Those limits were just redefined a little this time.

"...with Liberty and Justice for All..."

On May 20th, during the Republican primary, the citizens of Pocatello will vote on retention of an ordinance that was enacted last year protecting them from discrimination in housing, employment, and public accommodations based on gender identity and sexual orientation. This issue has been very divisive in the community and will continue to be so after the vote for at least a generation. A "yes" vote repeals the ordinance and a "no" vote retains it.

I don't believe in excessive legislation of any kind. People should be left to govern their own actions as much as possible and receive whatever consequences occur due to those actions. There are, however, instances where punitive laws are needed to ensure the basic health and safety of the members of society. Pocatello's non-discrimination ordinance doesn't really qualify since it does nothing to punish murder or mayhem, but I'm voting to retain it anyway for the following reasons:

1. The ordinance is applicable to all of Pocatello's citizens and, contrary to the strong views of many, does not offer special protections for any one group of people, therefore retaining the ordinance does not create an imbalance of justice in favor of any group of people. Any citizen who feels they have been unjustly denied employment, housing, or use of public facilities due to their sexual orientation or gender identity has recourse to this law. A gay landlord cannot refuse to rent to a tenant because they are straight. A transgendered employer cannot refuse to hire an individual who has retained the physical gender expression of their birth.
   It is important to understand this point because there are proponents on both sides of the debate who misrepresent the facts. Nowhere in the language of the ordinance are LGBT people mentioned. They are not once singled out for special protections. The language is inclusive of all inhabitants of Pocatello. I think I've made my point.
2. Because of the confusion addressed in the first point, Pocatello's ordinance has become inseparably associated with LGBT people. It should be retained not just because of its ability to protect people but because of what it would mean should it be repealed. At this point, repealing the ordinance would be a clear signal that it's not only okay to be blatantly discriminatory, but that it's encouraged. Pocatello would come to be seen as a place that welcomes bigotry and hatred, be it straight, gay, or whatever.
3. This leads to my 3rd point. Unfortunately, this debate has also become an issue of image. Most large businesses would not even consider locating in Pocatello if the ordinance is repealed. We can't afford to alienate their interest if we want to thrive as a town.

Having said all this, I want it understood that I'm pretty passionate about both justice and mercy. Fairness is a big deal to me, but knowing what is fair is rarely a black or white proposition which is why broad legislation is a bad idea in most cases. For my friends supporting retention of the ordinance, I'm sorry if my support is less enthusiastic than you expect. For my friends supporting the ordinance's demise, I'm not going to apologize for my views because there's no need. If you are my friend, then we can have different views and be friends anyway.

Ringing in My Ears

A lady came into the library yesterday morning with her mother and two small children. The older of the two children was about three years old and could speak quite clearly. I know this because she quite clearly registered her distress that there were earrings in my ears. Her tiny voice projected her anxiety around the otherwise-tranquil second floor, eliciting some embarrassed "shoosh"-ing from her mother and grandmother, as well as some sharply mixed feelings from me.

In that moment, I wanted to comfort the child and let her know the sky wasn't falling. At the same time, I felt a stab of shame and a brief flood of resentment that this small child had already and obviously been taught that boys who wear ear jewelry are to be feared. Finally, I was amused by the mother's chagrin that her daughter had not yet been taught discretion to hide her prejudice.

At one time, I was much like this child. I would often tell people in the supermarket that they shouldn't have beer or cola in their shopping carts because Heavenly Father said those things were bad for us. One evening in the Idaho Falls K-Mart, I loudly registered my surprise when a smoker took pity on my whining and purchased a small toy for me from a vending machine when my parents wouldn't. "He's a nice man...and he smokes!" was my exclamation. My mortified folks thanked the man and later taught me that not all smokers were bad. I tell this story to show that I understand this little girl.

"Careful the things you say. Children will listen. Careful the things you do. Children will see...and learn." These words from Stephen Sondheim's masterwork Into the Woods regularly ring in my ears.

Parents often attempt to protect their children by teaching them things to watch out for in people. These things frequently have to do with how a person looks. Will there ever come a time when children will be taught to evaluate others based on how those others treat the people around them? 1 Samuel 16:7 says in part: "...for the Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart." How else is that heart measured if not by how it motivates us to treat others?

I hope when that little girl grows up, she gets a tattoo and dyes a blue streak in her hair. Then she'll see, as I often do, who people really are. It will ring in her ears, too.

Why I Stay

I am one of the lucky ones.

For the first five years of my life, my mother was my constant companion. I would follow her around the house and she called me her "little shadow." As I grew, I was her helper, her protector, and her confidante. She was my best friend. In many ways, it's because of her that my family ties are stronger than those of most people I know.

Early in the year 2000, I was in my first semester at ISU and living with my parents. Because my folks expected it, I attended church with them. It was the ward I had grown up in, so I fell easily into the role I'd played before I had left home to go to Ricks' College.

My bishop wanted to put me to work in the ward. One Sunday, he asked me into his office to issue me a calling. I refused, telling him I was in a relationship with a young man that had physically exceeded the bounds acceptable to the Church and was therefore not worthy. My confession led to a disciplinary council that concluded in disfellowhipment from the LDS church. At the conclusion of that meeting, I begged my mother to just let me go, as I knew it would be easier in many ways for both of us. With tear-filled eyes, she told me she would never let me go.

On that pivotal night, asking for release was the furthest extreme to which I could go.

As time went on, my family and I developed a method of discourse that protected us all from the discomfort of dealing with reality. It wasn't a perfect solution, but it was the best we could do. Years went by.

Then I met someone. It was the first time I had been that in love with anyone. He seemed like the perfect man in every way. He was handsome, educated, and well-spoken. He was also endearing, tender, and so much more even-headed than I was. We had many interests in common, yet there were also fascinating differences. I was flattered by his interest and excited to absorb all of the good things he was that I felt I wasn't.

As a returned missionary himself, I thought he understood the difficult position I was in. He let me read his coming out journal which detailed his struggles with his own family. He told me he wanted me to really know him. The intimacy of his trust was intoxicating.

I gave him my heart, transferring to him the spot my family had occupied and preparing for the rift it would cause with them. More than once I returned to his arms after visiting them, sobbing because of the pain of separation that was going on inside me. I was like an addict going through withdrawal while becoming addicted to something else.

Then suddenly, he ended the relationship. I was devastated. I couldn't eat. Sleep was fitful, and when I awoke, thoughts of him haunted my every movement and interaction. My heart leapt at every car that looked like his. I saw his face everywhere.

From something he said to me the night he left, I decided that my ties to God and family would always keep me from finding someone who loved me. I also decided that as long as I didn't love myself, no one else would either. I had a talk with my parents and told them things had to change, that I was never going to hide my life from them again.

Four months of working out, losing a lot of weight, and mentally demolishing long-cherished landmarks in my soul didn't lead me to love, but I was feeling very alive. It was a different kind of alive than I was used to. It was animal rather than spiritual. The close friends that I selected to replace my family were worried by the drastic change. I didn't care; I was never going to be hurt like that again.

Then came a week in January where I was fighting a cold. I usually follow the "feed a cold, starve a fever" mantra, so I was feeding the cold with Papa Murphy's Chicken & Garlic pizza. The creamy garlic alfredo sauce was apparently the last straw for my gall bladder because it kicked out the biggest fuss I've ever felt inside my body. The pain was excruciating. I seriously thought I was going to die.

I called my new "family" in a panic, but none of them were available to come help me. Finally, I called a cousin who lived in town. He came and sat with me for two hours while I writhed in an agonized indecision. I didn't have health insurance at the time and I didn't know for sure what was going on inside, but I finally couldn't take it anymore. My cousin drove me to the hospital. He sat with me until 5 in the morning when my parents came down from Idaho Falls. He had a lesson to teach in church at 9.

For the next couple weeks, my parents were both by my side, helping through the surgery and subsequent convalescence. They supported me as I struggled through finding a way to pay for the medical bills, and they listened to me talk about my broken heart.

It became starkly apparent to me that I'd made a grave mistake in trying to replace my family with friends. Although my friends had been sympathetic, it was my family who actually came to my aid. Since then, there are friends I've made that I know I can rely on for many things. Some of them are frustrated that I continue to grapple with the differences between me and my family, but I've learned better than to place those relationships above my family.

Like I said, I'm one of the lucky ones.

A Rolling Stone Reveals Dead Men's Bones

The cover was distasteful, reeking like a junior high bathroom. Miley Cyrus emerging from a swimming pool licking her bare shoulder, mascara bleeding from her wanton eyes. Rolling Stone was playing her game and pandering to the lowest common denominator. Then the smaller print below caught my eye. "The War on Gay Teens" it said. So instead of putting the magazine on the shelving rack, I checked it out and took it home to read. (http://www.rollingstone.com/culture/news/the-hidden-war-against-gay-teens-20131010)

On its surface, it looked like just another tired bleeding-heart liberal piece crying big crocodile tears over the plight of oppressed sexual misfits. That kind of stuff irks me because it usually just gives ammo to the haters. However, it quickly dug deeper, showing a link to tax-supported bullying and shaming in Christian schools. As I read, I got mad. Mad that people could be so hateful and devious all the while claiming that they were acting for Jesus Christ. Mad that this debate even exists.

I decided I wanted to post a link to the article on my Facebook page, a place I often go to when I need to process things like this by discussing them with my friends. In looking for the online version, I found another Rolling Stone article related to this topic. This one, published in 2012, examined how the policy of one school district in Minnesota contributed to a rash of suicides among its gay teens. My anger and revulsion increased. (http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/news/one-towns-war-on-gay-teens-20120202)

This is usually the point in the story where I consider abandoning my affiliation with Christianity, often to the extent of having my name removed from the records of my natal church. It's a common reaction and subsides over a short time. It happens in the privacy of my soul and I don't say much to anyone about it. This time, though, I decided to blog through it.

People are dying, killing themselves because of modern-day Pharisees. One of my favorite passages of scripture is Matthew 23:27 where Jesus dresses down the "church" power players of his day with these words: "Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye are like unto whited sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outward, but are within full of dead men’s bones, and of all uncleanness." I can't stand injustice, and that's what I feel is going on in these schools, in our towns, in our country. People are using the stick of scripture and the cross of Christ to tread their brothers and sisters under their feet. There are times when I would love nothing more than to face all those outwardly religious people who do such hateful things and throw Christ's words right at them, reducing them to the same kind of self-loathing, guilty tears I, myself, have experienced.

But that's where MY bones are, and I can't give in to them. The only things I really want filling my insides are love for myself and those around me and the light of knowledge and truth. That's the only way to have personal peace in this turbulent world.

In those rare moments when I allow myself to be happy just as I am, it feels possible to be a whole person, free from the conflict and rage my soul usually harbors. Slowly, I'm moving on from this issue I've been hung up on since childhood, losing the need to prove anything to anyone, but it still consumes much of my thought and energy...and is taking up so much of my life, which is another blog post entirely.

What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger

After reading a post regarding a Kansas bill that seeks to "protect" religious freedom by barring gays from suing bakers for refusal to make gay wedding cakes, I needed to post a rant somewhere and this is where it goes.

This bill passed the Kanses House of Representatives, looks to easily pass in the Republican-dominated Senate, and has already been praised by the notoriously-conservative governor. I think the reason this event raised my ire is a similar bill was tried in the Idaho legislature as well, though it was withdrawn for the time being by its sponsor, Rep. Luker.

I'm tired of both sides of this issue. I'm tired of "religious conservatives" and their self-righteousness. I'm also tired of litigious gay people who think that suing some small bakery who refused to make their wedding cake is some victory for civil rights. Neither side is right. Neither side is productively moving us all to a peaceful place of existence.

To the wounded God-fearers, I ask, how long did you think lording your moral superiority over those who don't fit into your Jesus-uptopia was going to go unchallenged? How long did you think you were going to get away with grinding your fellow human beings into the ground? It's time to stop being so easily offended by things you don't agree with. It's time to stop excluding your fellow beings from things that should be enjoyed by everyone.

To those gay people who are only making things worse, I say two wrongs don't make a right. Reverse-discrimination is still discrimination. Hitting someone back when they've hit you only perpetuates the cycle of hate and violence that has been perpetrated on gay people throughout recorded history. We have the power to end it and we should do so, not by shrinking away and hiding as has been done in the past, but by being a model of humanity, love, and respect for our fellow beings. This is how we can demonstrate our strength. The question we should always ask ourselves is "How would I feel if this were done to me?" Often, we already know the answer because whatever it is HAS been done to us. That doesn't mean we should return the behavior in kind.

Yesterday, in a Facebook conversation, a friend of mine told me that sometimes there isn't any middle ground, that some people are just wrong. I hear what he is saying, but I cannot and will not subscribe to an "us against them" mentality. Whether I agree with a person or not, they are still my fellow human being, my brother or my sister. I will not make them my enemy by viewing them as such, nor let them do the same. If they try to make me their enemy, they can only do so if I agree with that perception. Frankly, this is the only way to truly neutralize enmity and has been shown to be highly effective by the few brave enough to practice it.

The title of this blog is From Where I Stand, and what is it I stand for? I stand for peace and I stand for truth, as much as can be perceived. That is the only "side" I stand on.