I’ve been listening to David Archuleta’s song Hell Together, which he wrote and dedicated to his mom. Archuleta took second place in American Idol in 2008. I reviewed his memoir in this post. A talented musician, he was also a dedicated Mormon who took time off to serve a mission. The Church loved him. This charismatic and famous millennial could help with the Church’s public image problem. Then he announced he was bisexual, eventually acknowledging that he was gay. And he was going to “choose to live the gay lifestyle” by which I mean he wanted to fall in love with someone he was actually physically attracted to.
Most heterosexuals also choose to live the heterosexual lifestyle, by which I mean they want to fall in love with someone they are physically attracted to.
Archuleta left the Church. His mom initially supported the Church’s teachings about homosexuality, but eventually she left too, in support of her son. To honor her, Archuleta wrote Hell Together.
The full lyrics are here I’m going to paste in a few of them and discuss.
Bow your head
Don’t be bold
You’ll survive by
Doing what you’re told
Said love is earned
And we can’t choose
But the more you grow
You know the truth.
This stanza is summarizing what Church teachings feel like to queer people. Just be obedient and don’t visibly be different. However, pretending to be something you’re not is stressful and as people grow and mature, you start to realize that living a pretense isn’t sustainable.
Oh if they don’t like the way you’re made
Then they’re not any better
If Paradise is pressure
Oh
We’ll go to Hell together
That line: “If Paradise is pressure” encapsulates so much. We’re all supposed to want paradise, but what if we don’t? It isn’t just that obedience is hard; it’s that the reward we’re working for isn’t something we even want anymore.
You and me
That’s all we need
Blood is thicker
Than the pages
That they read
I’m afraid
Of letting go
Of the version of me
That I used to know
This reference to “the pages that they read” confines Church teachings to scripture and past teachings. This isn’t revelation; this is tradition.
And being afraid of letting go of the person you constructed? Realizing you have to get to know who you really are? It’s scary. Sometimes it’s exhilarating. Sometimes it’s terrifying. You lose a lot. You gain a lot. It’s a change; it’s a risk; it’s a personal revelation.
Crying tears in Sunday crowds
Took my hand, and we walked out
You said
If I have to live without you
I don’t wanna live forever
In someone else’s heaven
So let em close the gates
Wish we knew it sooner
Walking out with grace
Finally, we choose our own heaven, not someone else’s. The biggest regret is how long it took to reject a Paradise that says your gift to love is wrong, bad, excessive, filthy, degenerate, disgusting. I love the line “walking out with grace”, especially when set against the earlier line that “love is earned.” We take grace with us when we go, that unconditional love and acceptance.
This post is a shoutout to every parent who has stepped back from the Church to support a queer child. You have no idea how much your child loves you for what you sacrificed to love them. But I am so proud of David Archuleta’s mom, and of the W&T community members who I know have queer children and have done right by them.
Thank you.
Happy Pride Month.
Discussion prompts:
- If you’re the parent of a queer child (the entire alphabet – LGBTQIA+), what was your faith journey like? Where are you at?
- How do you handle the fact that homophobia has increased markedly in the past several years?
- If you’re the queer child, how did your parents handle it? What is your relationship with them like today?
- Have you been able to help someone who doesn’t have supportive parents?
- Any sibling stories you feel comfortable sharing?
Wheat & Tares 
When I was a kid / teenager (born 1965), the only organization that made me feel blacks / Hispanics / “Indians” were less than was The COJCOLDS. Not my sports teams, not my schools, just the Church.
When I was a young adult, the only organization that made me feel gay people were less than was the COJCOLDS and it’s branch in Provo (BYU). Not my employers, not my kids’s schools or sports teams, just the Church and its auxiliaries.
Isn’t it interesting that as some of us look back on more than 50 years of life the only organization in our lives that made us feel superior due to our race and sexuality (and gender) was the “Christian” church of which we were members?
As parents of a gay child–was hard, is hard, will almost certainly continue to be hard to do it right.
Our relationship with the church is something we have explicitly discussed with our children. They have left; we have not. We are very nuanced. Our children know that we love and support them always. Our daughter and her wife were married in our house. We have talked about legal steps they might take as gay rights are being curtailed. We have told her that if any of her friends need family, we will gladly be that family. That has actually been something that has happened from within the social circles of all our children, not just the gay daughter.
We know that our daughter would prefer that we leave, but she says she respects our choice to stay just as we respect her choice to leave.
One of the clearest answers to prayer I have ever gotten (actual words addressed to me) told me that my responsibility was to make sure our daughter always knows she is loved and always knows she is a valued member of our family. I can do that. That part is actually easy.
For years one of my kids behaved in ways that made us wonder where he was on the gender spectrum. He’s never been particularly interested in anyone romantically. I left the church partly because I realized that if my kids weren’t in heaven I didn’t want to go there either. If the Celestial Kingdom is so exclusive that it makes Augusta National look downright populist, then no thank you!
Also, anyone with more than 5 kids and grandkids, the chances are high that at least one will be LGBTQIA. I couldn’t look at a child and say I love this organization that ostracizes you, and I also love you. Some people, like my wife, seem to be able to emotionally differentiate enough to embrace both the LDS and the LGBTQIA, but I’m not one.
“If you’re the parent of a queer child (the entire alphabet – LGBTQIA+), what was your faith journey like? Where are you at?”
The reasons I left the church could fill a novel. Yet the low-hanging fruit most people associate with my leaving the church is supporting my rainbow child. I guess it’s nice for people to put us in a simple box, and lucky my rainbow child doesn’t care, but it’s just the part people can see even though it’s not even close to the entire reason.
“How do you handle the fact that homophobia has increased markedly in the past several years?”
I’m so glad I live in California. It’s still not perfect for queer people here, but there are few places with such a supportive community to all kinds of wonderful people.
If a prophet can get a revelation detailing how to build and finance a house (see Doctrine & Covenants Section 124) then surely a prophet can get a revelation that provides an eternal model for our queer family and friends. Their inability to tap the powers of heaven on behalf of millions of God’s children is really sad. Perhaps that is what they mean when they talk about the ongoing restoration. I dunno.
One of the main reasons I left the church is because one of my kids, even at a very young age, was just not interested in performing gender in the expected way. I didn’t (and still don’t) know who they will love or how they will experience gender, but I knew then that I just could not treat my own children the way the church, even at its best, wanted me to treat gay kids. And even if none of my kids are, how could I then participate in treating other kids (or former kids) that way?
Much respect to those who stay though. Part of my story was also that being a Mormon was never at the heart of my identity, which made leaving far less painful than it would be for others, so I don’t fault folks who take the nuanced path.
To answer question #1 (sorry it’s so long):
I always hated the box I felt like the church was forcing me into as a girl. The church was much of my community, but I could not relate to my fellow YW who were baby-mad and wanted to get married ASAP. In retrospect, my formative years were spent in “appease” mode (do what you need to to get along because its not worth fighting).
I chose a very liberal, out of state, university to get away from the expectations of family, and was able to start to figure out who I am and what my boundaries are. After graduation, I moved to a city far away from my family.
Got married in my mid-20s because it never occurred to me that I didn’t have to, and I thought I’d found someone who checked all the right boxes. Was overwhelmed trying to survive marriage and motherhood, but consciously chose a more open parenting style: rejecting gendered expectations for activities and appearances, presenting marriage as just one of many options, saying “your partner” instead of assuming a husband or wife, making sure they knew I love them no matter what, always being willing to discuss any topic they brought up without judging, etc. Started to figure out how to gently push back against elements of church culture and our local culture (we’re in the South) in ways that didn’t lead to the other person completely discounting everything I say.
Then, when my kids were still primary age, something happened to a friend and her family that pretty much destroyed my faith in local church leaders as anything more than folks doing their best while still retaining, and even embracing, their particular biases and blind spots. Even to the point of harming other people without remorse. In the midst of dealing with that, I found the Bloggernacle and was relieved to find I wasn’t the only person bothered by the sexism in the temple and infused into the culture of the church, among other things.
A few years later, the POX happened and I started to examine my belief in the general church leaders. Handed in my temple recommend because I could not sustain anyone who could treat children as political footballs. Eventually decided I didn’t ever want it back, and stopped wearing garments. I also stopped giving any money to the church unless I knew how it would be used (e.g., camp fundraisers).
Then my youngest came out as bi. I am incredibly grateful that it didn’t really change anything in our relationship because of all the little steps I’d taken along the way.
A little while later, my middle child came out as nonbinary. Didn’t really change anything other than the pronouns I use to refer to them, again because of the work I’d already done on myself. I didn’t realize it at the time, but the love and support I gave them without hesitation are a big part of why they are still here, as it eased enough of the self-destructive urges they’d been feeling to make it possible to get help. They are still figuring out who they are and their place in this world and I am honored to be included in that journey.
All along my journey, I have been blessed to be around people who helped me learn and grow. The amazing people I hung out with in college who showed me that the world is much bigger than I’d been taught. My cousin’s incredibly brave ex who still attended family reunions post-transition despite being dead-named and/or shunned by members of that family, and who later gave me important information and suggestions that enabled me to more fully support my middle child. Even the folks who have led me to examine why the things they were saying made me so uncomfortable.
Faith-wise, I attend church and accept those callings where I feel I can do some good, but would most accurately be described as agnostic (I believe in something bigger than this world that I call God, but also believe we understand very little about what that even means). I disagree with lots, but do what I can to push back in classes and conversations. Attending helps me be a better person, as it reminds me of the humanity and goodness in everyone. I feel called to do what I can to improve my sphere of influence, what I call being a little purple pansy based on an old primary song I haven’t heard in decades. There are some very uncomfortable moments, though, when I don’t feel safe speaking up and instead just get out of the class or conversation as quickly as I can. The church is also important to my spouse and I’m not sure our marriage would survive me leaving completely. I give my tithe to groups I believe are actually helping people and building community.
Since their early teens, I’ve encouraged my kids to decide their own path and relationship with the church. Only one attends at all, and not frequently. I still let them know what’s going on and let them make their own choices. Our current bishop has not enforced the trans rules with another member of the ward, but we’ve been notified of boundary changes coming up so leadership roulette is in the near future. I’m not looking forward to figuring everything out again in a new ward.
My son is trans. Even before he came out publicly he didn’t like church much. He’d usually come to sacrament meeting with us, and would often just walk home for the second hour. After he came out, he was invited to the YM classes and activities, with explicit approval from both our bishop and stake president. He didn’t often go, but he did sometimes. Nearly two years ago he was effectively kicked out of church participation, which in some ways was just easier for him, I think. He wasn’t welcome, so why would he go. We’ve had conversations about how he feels about the rest of us still attending, and he’s ok with it. I’m proud of the way he defends the church from ridiculous claims, while criticizing the church for it’s real actions. He’s experienced the kindness of many members, and recognizes that their love for him is informed by their faith, while also holding the church accountable for it’s deep flaws.
I attend weekly, but my relationship with the church is vastly different than it used to be. I had become increasingly progressive for at least a decade prior to having any ideas that my son was trans, but having the church tell you that your family doesn’t belong here anymore really brought a lot of focus to my feelings. I could provide a list of things I still do and things I have stopped doing, but the real point is that I have reclaimed authority over my own life that I had ceded to the church. I find value in being in the ward and stake choir, and I can now admit that I find no value in fasting. I no longer believe the church to be “true” like I once did. I view apostles as (usually) nice old men that may have occasional flashes of revelation. I believe in God and Christ, but I ran out of a testimony of “knowing” some time ago. I enjoy the Gospels, and I still find King Benjamin to be some of the best scripture around, whether Benjamin ever really existed or not. I’m very aware that I’m trying to balance along a narrow ridge that most people don’t seem to have been able to navigate long term. I suspect that my development along this path was hastened by having a trans kid, but I’m not sure how much it has really changed the overall destination, whatever that may be.
I’m a lot less confident about a lot of religious things these days, and I’m also ok with that. For now I am living with the ambiguity rather than patting myself on the back that I have all the answers.
I always encouraged my kids to join the GSA at school (gay-straight alliance) because it’s so important to stand up for people. One of our pediatricians was also a gay man, which was interesting when an older ward member tried to argue with me about my pro-LGBTQ stance, conflating being gay with pedophilia and claiming that I wouldn’t let my kids go to a gay doctor. It just was not even something I ever worried about. I only found out he was gay when I coincidentally befriended his husband a few years later.
And yet, I was dismayed when my own kid came out that they weren’t sure they would be accepted or if we would kick them out. I couldn’t even believe that was a question. Sometimes the church’s messages (that we as parents aren’t always hearing directly) are louder than we imagine. Kids are hearing the church relentlessly villifying gay and trans people, and they see that their parents (who don’t do that) still go there. It’s not a good day when you realize that your church is a worse parent than you are. It’s not all that different than a child blaming both parents when one of them is abusive. We are supposed to protect and love our children, and we can’t do that when we turn a blind eye to how they are treated. Yes, we can encourage them to stand up for others and themselves, but they have to know that we are always going to have their back, and if the church calls that into question (which it certainly does), that’s not OK.
There was a ward member whose niece had a child who came out, and this ward member said she just felt like she should ask me for advice. At the time, none of my kids were out, although her husband had been the one I argued with about gay pediatricians. I asked what type of advice she was looking for, and she talked through it for a while. I think she started out hoping to convince her niece to stay in the church, but the more she talked, the more she realized that it probably wasn’t going to be a good place for their family, and that her role was really just to accept them and love them. I agreed and said that like it or not, given the hostility in the church toward LGBTQ people, it was very unlikely the niece’s family would stay, and as it turned out, they did not. I think this ward member just needed to talk it through with someone who wasn’t going to spout the party line. I don’t think I really provided any help to her at all. She just needed to think it through.
I issue my strongest possible condemnation to prejudice of any and all kinds. Including this kind.
Abraham Lincoln famously stated that: “The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.”
We must be strong, and we must support others in their efforts to be strong. That means we must stand up to prejudice.
JCS
Another of your numerous Abe Lincoln misquotes. This is an Earnest Hemmingway quote from A Day Farewell to Arms. And it has nothing to do with this topic. I’m starting to think you are a bot. Please enlighten us.
A Farewell to Arms
Thanks for the heartfelt comments. It’s encouraging to read about so much love in the midst of all the anti-LGBT+ propaganda and politics. The LGBT+ population are people, first and foremost, and should be treated as such. I liked Charles’ comment about how we treat kids and “former kids.” LGBT adults are former kids, and many still carry the trauma of growing up in a homophobic society and Church.
I’ve especially appreciated the comments about how Church affects the parent-child relationship. I don’t have anything to add to that discussion, just acknowledging how complex that situation is for everyone.
I suspect my youngest son is aromantic-asexual, like I am. He quit attending Church not long after he was baptized and so escaped the constant drumbeat of marriage and family. He doesn’t seem to be bothered at all by the ways he’s different than the other boys who are at least talking about girls. I’m glad he’s not going to have to overcome the same mindset that I had — that anything other than marriage and family was nothing better than a pathetic consolation prize. He’s a straightforward, content young man who doesn’t let himself get pressured into anything he doesn’t want to do (which is why his English grades are not great; at least he passed). I admire his approach to his life and identity and hope he never loses his self-confidence.
When I lie awake at 3:00 a.m. finding things to worry about, I worry about how our society assumes that unmarried men who are fascinated with computers are all closet pedophiles. Well, a good portion of those unmarried men who are fascinated with computers are aro-ace and not really interested in anyone sexually at all. Anecdotally, I’ve noticed that people within shouting distance of the autism spectrum seem to have a higher rate of asexuality. I’ve never seen any real research about that at all. I subscribe to an asexuality substack; maybe I’ll email the author and ask if there have been any studies about if rates of asexuality are more, less, or the same among people on the autism spectrum.
That reminded me of a survey I saw when I was looking for the survey I cited in my comment on my aromanticism post. Sure enough, it had what you were looking for.
According to the 2024 Aro Community Survey, 12.9% of respondents were professionally diagnosed with autism, 21.3% were self-diagnosed, 23.9% were unsure and 41.9% answered no. That’s a bit higher than the autism numbers on the aro survey if I remember correctly, but roughly in the same ballpark.
I have tried three times now to respond as a parent of LGBT children, but each time I have hit raw grief for my daughter in law, even though it has been a year now since she died. So, I scrap my attempt, because off topic.
So, I have a daughter that identifies as lesbian, and of course our daughter in law who was married to our daughter, one daughter who identifies as bi, and a roommate and sister in law to my lesbian daughter who is trans. (and estranged from her parents over it) So, we have unofficially adopted the trans roommate as ours. We have a granddaughter who identifies LGBT, but so far has not defined to us an exact identity. She has had one boy friend, but dumped him with zero emotional loss. So, even when she has a sexual relationship, well, it is very like our lesbian daughter was with men. Some times it takes some experience to realize that although there is some attraction, or friendship, it isn’t enough.
So, to answer if I have been able to support someone who doesn’t have supportive parents, I sure hope so. But it is SO hard to comfort someone who is sobbing over the hate they are getting from their own mother. It is just not quite enough for me to tell them that I love them. Even though she knew that I loved her or she wouldn’t be on the phone with me from 1,000 miles away. But it is still small compensation.
My best friend in high school was gay, clear back in 1969-1970, so I have had lots of years to think about and be aware of LGBT issues. My first real discussions of LGBT issues were with him, even though neither of us verbally recognized to each other that for him the discussions were personal. I knew damned well we were not just talking theoretically, but about his life. But we discussed how it was inborn and that even psychologists were recognizing it as inborn and how the “conversion therapy” at BYU (which was across the street from our high school) was damaging, and how the church saying the *feelings* themselves were a sin was so lacking in accuracy as well as empathy, compassion or love. God just doesn’t condemn people for being how God made them. Which also of course applied to blacks and the priesthood. We obviously didn’t accept blaming things on what they did in the pre-existence.
But like other parents here have said, my daughter assumed we would not accept her being lesbian because the church had told her it was unacceptable.
I had a different issue professionally with the church and the assumption I would disapprove. The clients in support group talked with each other, and somehow it got out that I was Mormon. Well, one was afraid to come out to me, especially that she was in love with a straight woman that I knew. The others in support were trying to convince her that I wasn’t *that* kind of Mormon, but of course there was nothing they could hold up as proof. I didn’t know any of this behind the scenes stuff. Finally, something came up in conversation and she got this deer in the headlights look. But didn’t say anything. I waited but she was obviously having some kind of internal fight. So, I just said, “in case that look is because you are attracted to women, I would be alright with it.” Much later, I heard about the discussion among support group members. Another time another client flat out asked if I was Mormon. I had to guess why she was worried I might be, so I could assure her I was not a homophobic Mormon. Because if I had just answered her question she would have kept that part of herself in the closet. It was tricky being a counselor with a church that had a bad reputation.
For me. there were many things that weighed down that so-called shelf of testimony in regards to the Mormon church for many years. Its stance on LGBTQ+ issues were one of a handful of things that were most pressing and seemed most likely to break it. That was all before our youngest child first revealed they were queer. Even then, we stayed in as a family and our local leaders were supportive. But of course, there was POX, and then RMN, so leaving was still something we debated. Eventually my wife stopped attending for other reasons. Then my queer child came out to me as trans. He didn’t reveal that to my wife for a couple of years, when he did, we were well into the pandemic. At that point he decided to go fully public including with his leaders at church. Also by then I had been attending other churches virtually thanks to COVID making online church with most local denominations possible while in our stake at least, LDS services still weren’t being held online (or in person). With time, it became obvious to me that returning to attendance at the LDS church when that started back up again would be interpreted as retaining at least some alignment with its anti-LGBTQ rhetoric by our kids, which I definitely didn’t want to do. (Hawkgrl, I think our kids don’t usually see all the various conversations and online stuff where we are arguing against church leaders rhetoric, so they assume we must agree with it because we are going to church etc). By then the weekly ritual of going to the LDS church and fulfilling my calling had been broken by the pandemic anyway. So when it did start back up, it didn’t require any new effort on my part to just stay away permanently. Especially because my spiritual nourishment was coming from the virtual attendance at the UMC church and for awhile at the weekly (then bimonthly) Dialogue Sunday School (thanks Christian Kimball et al). So finally fully severing ties with the LDS church and it’s theology on behalf of my trans son and really all of my family just gave me a lot of spiritual peace and ended years of cognitive dissonance. But it took many years to get that point. It makes me sad how much toxic stuff my kids had to hear and absorb in the meantime. Maybe a reason that Father’s Day feels a bit like a reminder that I let my kids down.
I don’t want to out any of my kiddos that might not be 100 percent ready, but every time I listen to that song I cry like a baby. Yeah, I would very happily go to hell with any of my children. They can keep their stinkin heaven. They can keep “Think Celestial” because I sure don’t want it the way they market it.
I will fight any of my relatives or community for the safety of my children, and that includes emotional safety. I fight this fight frequently and I often fail, but suck it up buttercup. I will fight it again tomorrow. David’s mom is my example and hero. I think I will go watch that video again.
“Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.” ~Kahlil Gibran