December 31
1964-The
Council on Religion and the Homosexual, an organization composed of gays,
lesbians, and representatives from four major denominations, held a New Year's
Eve costume ball in San Francisco. Police harassed and threatened those
attending. Four people were arrested, three of them attorneys. Though charges
were dropped, the Council published a brief detailing how police oppressed and
abused homosexuals.
1965-
The tradition of the Royal Courts in the Gay community was started when Jose
Sarria put a crown on his head and proclaimed himself by his own powers Dowager
Widow of the Emperor Norton, Empress of San Francisco and Protectress of
Mexico. Jose Sarria had entertained in drag at the North Beach Gay café called
the Black Cat in the 1950’s. At the end of each performance the
audience joined Jose Sarria in a rousing rendition of “God Save Us Nelly
Queens” Four years earlier he ran as the first openly Gay person to run for
office in San Francisco and received 6,000 votes. All
Royal Courts received their charters from organizations authorized by Jose
Sarria. Exact date of event unknown. Court System was founded in San
Francisco in 1965 by José Sarria, also known as Absolute Empress I, The
Widow Norton. Sarria, now affectionately known as "Mama" or
"Mama José" among Imperial Court members, devised the name
"Widow Norton" as a reference Joshua Norton, a much-celebrated
citizen of 19th Century San Francisco who had declared himself Emperor of the
United States and Protector of Mexico in 1859. Sarria soon became
the nexus of a fundraising group with volunteer members bearing titles of
nobility bestowed by yearly elected leaders. Around 1971, this structure was
replicated in Vancouver , Canada . In the United
States , the first court outside of San Francisco was Portland , Oregon ,
followed closely by Los Angeles . Other Imperial Courts were founded
thereafter. These empires operated and formed policies more-or-less
independently until an Imperial Court Council lead by Sarria was formed to
prevent participation by groups that were not involved strictly and solely
involved with charitable fundraising. For many years certain
chapters remained outside the recognition of the Widow Norton and the Imperial
Court Council for various reasons, particularly groups in Canada loyal
to Ted Northe, a founder of the Vancouver chapter who was known for
some time as "Empress of Canada". Eventually these chapters
reconciled their differences with Sarria's group and joined the IICS. In 1997,
Northe was among the recipients of the "José Honors Award", a
prestigious recognition granted by Sarria in a special ceremony held on that
first year it was given in Boston , Massachusetts . Each
individual court chapter (or "realm") is a separate,
legally-incorporated charitable non-profit organization that raises funds and
awareness for various charities and people in need within its realm. Each
chapter has its own board of directors and is financially responsible for its
own management. In addition to local non-profit status, many courts in the United
States have Federal 501(c) status. The Imperial Court Council is a
separately-incorporated non-profit organization created to advise individual
chapters and, when necessary, to grant or rescind recognition by the IICS as a
whole. This group also urges a degree of consistency regarding matters of
protocol via proclamations which are generally observed by all chapters. On
17 February 2007, Sarria (who turned 84 years old in December 2006) officially
passed IICS leadership to Nicole the
Great, (real name Nicole Murray-Ramirez),
former 1st Heir Apparent, in a ceremony held in Seattle , Washington .
Most chapters are Imperial Courts and are also known as "empires". A
few chapters are called "ducal court" (infrequently called a
"duchy") or "barony" (infrequently called a "baronial
court"). The term ducal court is typically used in the rare situation when
one chapter's area overlaps with the territory of an already established
chapter, as is the case with the Ducal Court of San Francisco. The term barony
is typically used when a new chapter has yet to fully realize the level of
infrastructure and successful fundraising characteristic of those chapters
deemed full-fledged Imperial Courts. Except for the titles used by the monarchs
(i.e. baroness rather than empress, etc.) baronial and ducal chapters function
in essentially the same way as those chapters headed by emperor and empresses.
Each court holds an annual coronation which is usually the chapter's largest
fundraiser and is attended by both local people and members of other chapters
from across North America . The focal point of the evening is the
actual coronation ceremony in which the new emperor and empress are crowned.
The method by which monarchs are selected varies from chapter to chapter,
ranging from selection by vote among the active membership in closed session
months before the coronation to election by all in attendance on the night of
the ceremony. The office of monarch is taken very seriously within the court
system and requires a large commitment of the holder's time and money.
Accordingly, while the presence of an "imperial couple" is the norm,
it is not uncommon for an emperor or empress to reign alone depending on the availability
of suitably dedicated and charismatic candidates with the necessary resources
to fulfil the requirements of a one year reign. In the most frequent
case, several weeks after coronation the new monarch or monarchs give out court
titles at a fundraiser called investitures. The titles given to members vary
from one chapter to another and are primarily left to the discretion of the
reigning monarch or monarchs, the fons honorum (fountain of honor) of their
chapter. Typical titles awarded are Imperial Crown Prince, Grand Duchess,
Marquess, Viscount, etc. Other appellations bestowed resemble offices or
professions within a medieval or modern noble court rather than titles of
nobility, such as "Court Jester" or "Chancellor of the
Realm" and so forth. These titles may be as serious-sounding or as
humorously campy as the monarchs wish. Titles are traditionally based upon
those used by European nobility (especially the British Peerage) but nothing
prohibits the creation of titles such as czarina, raja or sultan and these are
sometimes used as well. Noble titles are ranked according to an order of
precedence so that, for example, a member who has been created a duke takes
precedence over a member who has been made countess. The main effect of this
hierarchy involves the order that members are introduced during
"protocol", a ceremonial procedure endemic to the Imperial Court in
which titles are read by the master of ceremonies as members approach the
presiding monarchs. This bit of pageantry, which is typically reserved for
coronations and similar large events, gives Imperial Court members an
opportunity to display their titles and costumes to the assembled crowd. While
largely made up of gays and lesbians, each court is open to anyone wishing to
help raise money for charities. Gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender and
heterosexual people have all served as monarchs and court members in the
system's history. Although drag queens, transvestites and
cross-dressers are especially well-represented within the Imperial Court (collectively
comprising about 50% of the total membership), the organization also attracts
large numbers of men and women who dress in a manner traditional to their
gender. This typically means suits and tuxedos for men and dresses and gowns
for women.
Jose Sarria aka Widow Norton |
Nicole the Great |
1966-During
a raid on The Black Cat bar in Los Angeles a gay man was beaten so
severely by police that his spleen was ruptured. The police department filed
assault charges against the victim, but he was acquitted. In Los Angles a
dozen plainclothes vice officers had merged into a holiday party at the Black
Cat, a bar in the Silver Lake area. At midnight,
after the custom, there was some kissing among the patrons, where upon the
police took sudden and drastic action. Without identifying themselves the
officers first began to tear down the Christmas decorations, and then began to
manhandle patrons and employees alike. 16 persons were dragged outside and forced to lie down on the sidewalk until 5 squad cars arrived to take them away. After stating that they were officers, the police still refused to produce any proper identification, as they were legally required to do, usually replying by hitting the questioner with the butt of their guns and saying “that’s al the identification you need.” One bartender was so severely beaten as to suffer 2 broken ribs and a ruptured spleen, which later had to be removed. Much later he was held in jail for 22 hours before he was sent to County General Hospital for care. The bartender naturally was booked for assaulting an officer (a felony) and others for that or for “indecent behavior’.
1969-The Cockettes premiered their act in San
Francisco.
1970-
A BYU Security Officer confronted Steve Barker, a 23-year-old BYU student, at
his dormitory at Heleman Halls after trailing him from a Gay bar in the basement
of the Capitol Theater on 200 South in Salt Lake City. He was put on a list of suspected homosexuals at BYU.
1970- Perkey’s
Bar, a Lesbian bar opened in downtown Salt Lake City at 66 North 300
West. Was located just south of Crown Burger at North Temple and 300 west.
Allen Bergin |
1980 The
Values Institute of BYU had spent almost $150,000 in church funds trying to
produce an anti-Gay manuscript since 1977. According to President Dallin Oaks,
general authorities were getting “squeamish” over the project. Pressure
on the Institute became to great for Allen Bergin who resigned as Chair. Soon
after the manuscript project was scrapped and the institute was disbanded.
[Connell O’Donovan] Bergin had a son Michael Robert Bergin who was a member of Affirmation a support group for Gay Mormons
1981 Pam Parson, a Utah Native and head coach
of University of South Carolina women's
basketball team, Lady Gamecocks resigned. She became embroiled in a Lesbian Scandal involving Salt Lake's Lesbian Bar Puss N Boots
Pam Parson |
Add caption |
1982 Mark
Allan Coon committed suicide. He was born October 10, 1957 in Salt Lake
City to Arnold and Arlene Coon and he died December 31, 1982.
1985-23
cases of AIDS, 12 of them fatal reported in Utah deaths included 2
children.
1988- Utah
AIDS Project closed its doors due to loss of community confidence, leadership
and lack of money. The Salt Lake AIDS Foundation becomes the Utah AIDS Foundation under Ben Barr.
1990- The
Royal Court of the Golden Spike Empire hosted The Evening of White Magic held
at the Airport Hilton in the Lanai Room.
Connell O'Donovan |
1991 University of Utah adds
sexual orientation to its ant-discrimination policy Connell Rocky O’Donovan is
instrumental in making sure sexual orientation was included in the policy along with LGSU Presidents Kevin Warren and Angela Nutt
1992-Transsexual Brandon Teena
was murdered along with two friends who had taken him in after he was raped by
the same men who killed them. Though he reported the rape and identified the
men, the Sheriff's department took no action. Subject of the film Boys Don’t
Cry
1993- the
Utah AIDS Foundation served nearly 500 HIV/AIDS clients; delivered
approximately 4,000 hot meals to homebound clients; and distributed more than
65,000 pounds of food and personal-care items in its work for support,
assistance and prevention education for the community. During 1993, 247 cases
of AIDS in Utah were confirmed and 103 died of the disease in 1993
1994, 150
cases of AIDS were diagnosed with 97 deaths from the disease by years end.
1995, 158
cases of AIDS were diagnosed in Utah with 130 deaths from the disease
during the year making 1995 the most deadly of all years.
1996- David
Nelson disbanded the Gay and Lesbian Utah Democrats following internal
acrimony. Nelson came under fire from within GLUD after criticizing 2nd
Congressional District Candidate Ross Anderson. Anderson had said
that while he supported allowing same-sex unions he himself could not advocate
it if elected to Congress. (SL Tribune B4-6 Nov 1996)
David Nelson |
1996,
187 cases of AIDS were diagnosed with 80 deaths from the disease.
1997 120
cases of AIDS were diagnosed with 33 deaths during the year.
1997 A List of Community businesses and Organizations for 1997
- Gay Bars and Bath Houses- Radio City Lounge 147 South State, The Sun- A Private Club 702 West and 2nd South, The Deerhunter at 636 South 3rd West, The Trapp 102 South 600 West, Paper Moon 3424 South State, Barb Wire 400 West 500 South, The Brass Rail 103 27th Street Ogden, Club 14 1414 West 200 South Gay Friendly Bars- Bricks 569 West 200 South, Fusion 740 South 300 West, Shooterz 1225 Wilmington Ave., Sugar House, Confetti 909 East 2100 South Sugar House
- Gay Clubs and Support Groups- The Wasatch Leather Men Motorcycle Club, Gay/ Lesbian/ Bisexual Alliance, Gay and Lesbian Parenting Group, The Legacy Foundation of Provo, Moab Area/Southeast Utah Support Group, Rocky Mountain Dragons, Gay/Married Support Group, Support Group for Gay/Lesbian Parents, Utah Partner Association, Wasatch Bears, Coming Out Support Group, Girth and Mirth of Utah, Men’s Sack Lunch Break, Prime Time,
- Gay Community Service Organizations The Gay Help Line 533-0927, The Royal Court of the Golden Spike Empire, Gay and Lesbian Community Council of Utah, The Anti-Violence Project, Barony of Northern Utah, Kindly Gifts by Stitch and Bitch, Outreach, Utah Stonewall Center Gay Youth Organizations- Cache Valley Lesbian and Gay Youth Group, The Utah Gay and Lesbian Youth Group,
- Gay Spiritual Support Groups- Wasatch Affirmation, Reconciliation, Unitarian’s Interweave, Episcopal Oasis Family
- Support Groups- People Who Care, P-FLAG, Family Fellowship,
- Gay Recreational Groups- The Salt Lake Men’s Chorus, Utah Gay Rodeo Association, Alternative Gardening Club, Gay Volleyball, Good Time Bowling League, The Lesbian and Gay Chorus of Salt Lake City, The Queer Aquatic Club, Frontrunners Utah
- Lesbian Organizations- The First Thursday’s Women Group, Ogden’s Women’s Group, Women’s Support Group, Women’s BBBs,
- Gay Religious Organizations Sacred Light of Christ Metropolitan Community Church The Restoration Church of Jesus Christ, Bridgerland Metropolitan Community Church, Sacred Faeries, The Goddess Circle, Eucharist Catholic Church, Metropolitan Community Church of Ogden
- Workplace Organizations Lesbian and Straight Teacher’s Network, Salt Lake County Gay, Lesbian and Bisexual Employee Association, US West Eagles, Gay and Lesbian Law Alliance, American Express Globe, Gay Officers Action League, Lesbian, Bisexual and Gay Affirmative Psychotherapist Network
- Bisexual Support Organizations- Bisexual Support, Bisexual Forum,
- Gay Health Resources- Utah AIDS Foundation, Cocaine Anonymous, Fruits of Sobriety, The People With AIDS Coalition, HIV 101, People With AIDS Caregivers Group,
- Gay Political Organizations- Utah Coalition of Gay, Lesbian and Bisexual Union Activists and Supporters, Utah Log Cabin Club, National Organization For Women Lesbian Task Force, Utah Democratic Gay and Lesbian Caucus, Utah Human Rights Coalition,
- Gay Media - KRCL’s Concerning Gays and Lesbians, The Pillar, The Xchange, Kathy’s List, GayUT, Pillar On Line,
- Student Organizations- U of U Lesbian and Gay Student Union, Delta Lambda Sappho Union of Weber State University, Straight, Gay, Lesbian, and Bisexual Student Alliance of SLCC, Gay Straight Alliance of East High,
31 December 2000 The Salt Lake Tribune Page:
A13 Mary Callis talks about a Web site
at the Gay and Lesbian Center of Utah. Watching are, from left to right,
Rebecca McCuen, Deanna Millias and youth leader Amy Ruttinger. Teens and young
adults often rely on the center for support and friendship they can't find
elsewhere. The Salt Lake Tribune When
Teens Come Out Rejection, harrassment eased by support at community
centers BY HEATHER MAY THE SALT LAKE TRIBUNE Amy Ruttinger knows
what it's like to be the odd one out, the small, quiet one with a big
secret. Now, at 19, Ruttinger spends
many evenings at the Gay and Lesbian Center of Utah, where books on gay and
lesbian life line the wall and people can surf the Internet or watch a video as
they sip "mocca java," the Homo Brew of the Day. Throughout the evenings, teen-agers drop by
to find her, give her a hug, ask how she is doing. "This," says Ruttinger,
surrounded by about a dozen teens, "is my family. I'm at home right
now." Ruttinger, leader of one of the center's youth groups, is part
mother, part sister and all friend to her charges, who range in number from
five to 25, depending on the night. She is often the first person they go to
when they are being harassed at work, fighting with friends or just want to
talk. For many gay teen-agers, community centers are often the only places they
feel at home, whether or not they are out to their families, churches or
schoolmates. When they do come out,
teens say, and statistics confirm, many are rejected. They are ostracized,
kicked out of the house, sent to therapy, harassed. Ruttinger knows all about
that. She came out to her family three years ago. While several relatives
accepted her, one hit and kicked her and another believed she was possessed by
the devil. At school, friends she had known since second grade snubbed her in
the hallways; other classmates threatened to harm her and her friends. The rejection turned Ruttinger's thoughts to
suicide, but she found other family to get her through. Like "Uncle"
Jim and "Aunt" Cody, a gay couple who have been together for nine
years. She sought their comfort when she came out to her biological family and
now visits them once or twice a week -- more often than some of her blood
relatives. "I meet all her
girlfriends," says Aunt Cody, having a smoke on his porch under white
icicle lights and a Christmas wind sock and teasing her for looking like a boy
in his big blue coat. Ruttinger hopes young people can go to her like she goes
to Cody. She wants to help them avoid becoming the gay youth stereotype: strung
out on drugs and alcohol, promiscuous and suicidal. "I've seen them get
into sex, whore themselves off," she says. "When you don't have a
role model, you're going to have to do what you think is right, which turns out
to be wrong in the end. "You're
told for years not to have sex with 'him,' she says. "You're not told
[what to do] about your girlfriend." On a recent night at the "gay
Denny's" restaurant, nicknamed because gay teens hang out there after they
have been clubbing, Ruttinger dishes out advice to one boy between spoonfuls of
clam chowder. Matt, a 17-year-old from American Fork, asks her about the club
she started at Cottonwood
High School for gay and
lesbian students. She points her spoon at him and says she will help him get
one started. Later he asks her, "Is it true gay people are more likely to
drop out of school and smoke?" Ruttinger slides closer to Matt and drops
her forkful of salad. "I'm not hungry right now, I'm serious," she
says. "I can say what I've seen. A majority of mine [friends] have dropped
out. . . . You want to know why I
started smoking? To handle my depression." Later, Matt will say, "I
view [Amy] as a sister figure. One of those people who's just open, you can
express yourself to."
31 December 2000 The Salt Lake Tribune Page: A15 Two
Spirits' Respected in Indian Tradition Indians Have Tradition of Respect for
Gays Attitudes emphasize spiritual qualities morethan sexual orientation BY BOB
MIMS Outside of her friends in the
Navajo Indian Reservation town of Chinle , Ariz. , few know the
striking 5-foot-9 woman is biologically male. Indeed, she once parlayed her
shoulder-length, walnut and blond hair
and olive complexion into a modeling career in Phoenix before moving back to her native
redrock canyons. Now, she works as a caseworker for the Navajo AIDS Network,
helping others who have tested positive for the HIV virus. "Call me by my
disc jockey name, 'Darian Phyve,' " she requests, noting that while most
of her fellow Navajos are tolerant of gay and transgendered people, a few are
not. The 28-year-old transgendered DJ, who works private parties in her off
hours, considers herself a "Two Spirit," which in American Indian lore
is a person born with male and female personalities. In her case, the feminine
spirit is stronger; she cannot recall when it was not. It is a view
fundamentally different from that in
Western white civilization's Judeo-Christian roots -- that homosexuality is sinful. Instead, many Indians have traditions
of same-sex acceptance and incorporation of gays into tribal life. Tribal
attitudes toward homosexuality were seldom simply based on sexual orientation,
but involved both physical and spiritual attributes, according to Richley
Crapo, a professor of anthropology at Utah State University and student of Great Basin
Native American culture. Many tribes recognize three genders: male, female and
Two Spirits -- biological males, females or hermaphrodites able to fill both
male and female roles. "These distinctive Two Spirit roles usually
included some religious responsibilities, such as christening babies, treating
women for infertility with religious rituals and conducting funeral
rituals," Crapo said. In some tribes, Two Spirit status was extended to
females who had adopted male characteristics along with same-sex preferences,
and vice versa for males. Thus same-sex couples would have masculine and
feminine partners. "Two Spirit
persons were not stigmatized. In fact, they were generally thought of as having
a very high status," Crapo said. "Individuals with same-sex
orientation . . . would have found a very comfortable place in most North
American Indian tribes." Respecting Difference: In the Dine' tongue of the
Navajo, Two Spirits are known as "na'dleh" -- literally, "one
that changes." The term, in turn, has roots in one of the tribe's oldest
legends, the "Separation of the Sexes" story, said Donald Denetdeal,
chairman of the Center for Dine' Studies in Tsaile, Ariz. "At this point
in the oral narratives there came a time when all the men were over to one side
and lived in a certain geographical area and all the women lived in a different
area, too," Denetdeal said. "[It was] a time period . . . with men
having sexual relations with other men and women with women." The
na'dleh in both camps voluntarily
assumed sexual roles of the opposite sex. "These people were respected.
That respect continues today," Denetdeal said. "Navajos do not
promote homosexuality, but in the event there is one who might be a homosexual,
they are not looked down upon or treated as bad people . . . but as special
people due respect. "We are taught
as we are growing up that if we should run into a homosexual . . . we are not
to make fun of them, laugh about them or harass them in any way, shape or
form," he said. That attitude made Phyve's "coming out" much
easier. "It's how your soul
perceives who you are," she said. "We occupy an inaccurate biological
body while our dominant spirit, our mentality and being, are of another
individual and sex. "I've known my feelings sexually as far back as I
remember, even 2-3 years old. I was allowed to express myself freely with my
family, and over time it sort of grew on them.
. . . They cherish me as an individual who is an intricate part of the
family." Spiritual Powers: In the
language of the Utes, a gay man is "tozusuhzooch," loosely translated
as "A male who is not quite a male." However, that vague term in no
way implied confusion or rejection over acceptance of Two Spirits into the
tribal community. "These were special people with certain [spiritual]
powers," explained Venita Taveapont, a Ute social-services worker and
tribal cultural expert. "They were men who dressed and lived as women.
They did bead work and tanned hides, and they were generally the best in the
tribe at that." Traditional tozusuhzooch
were revered, but also expected to live alone. "People would go to
them to have them bless their children with Indian names. Sometimes, they were
looked upon as healers," Taveapont said. Larry Cesspooch, a Ute
traditional spiritual leader, said his tribe has its own story to explain
same-sex orientation origins. "As embryos, we were women before we were
men, before we grew penises. So, we believe we have male and female sides. [In
the case of homosexuals] even though you may have a male body, the female side
has taken over," he said. Much of that respect remains, though tolerance
is not what it once was, Cesspooch and Taveapont agree. The tozusuhzooch tradition is
remembered, but modern Ute gays are defined more often by their sexual
proclivities than the spiritual attributes of the past. "Nowadays, the roles have changed
some," Taveapont said. "They
have adopted the white man's way of being homosexual rather than how it used to
be. Today, they do not have as much respect as they used to; they are more of a
novelty."
31 December 2000 The Salt Lake Tribune Page: A14 Megan
Peters, center, performs with Gearl Jam at one of their every-other-Thursday
gigs at Salt Lake City 's
Dead Goat Saloon. Though not specifically a gay band, the group provides a
gay-friendly environment and tends to attract gay listeners among their varied
audiences. Gearl Jam Is Not Quite a Band Singer-songwriter support group draws
eclectic audiences to Dead Goat gigs BY SEAN P. MEANS Don't call Gearl Jam a "gay band."
For starters, it's not a band. Bands rehearse more often. What Gearl Jam is,
says founding member Trace Wyrand, is "a singer-songwriter
collective" whose regular members -- Wyrand, Leraine Horstmanshoff,
Kathryn Warner and Megan Peters -- take turns singing their own songs. The
others provide backup, musically and emotionally, in a free-form performance
that lives up to the "jam" part of their name. Yes, three of the four women are lesbian
(Peters is, as she puts it, the "token breeder"), and a substantial
portion of the 3-year-old group's fan base is also gay. But sexual orientation
is not what pulls Gearl Jam and its fans together. It's the music. "I don't
think any of us are necessarily coming from a place where first we're gay,
therefore [gay audiences] will come see us," says Wyrand, 39. "I don't know if it's about being gay,
or being singer-songwriters, or being women," says Peters, 36. To which
Warner, 43, responds, "It's because we're good." Considering that camaraderie, and the
close-knit nature of Utah 's
musician and gay communities, Peters jokes, "It's amazing none of us have
slept with each other." Each woman has her own performing career -- Peters
and Warner perform solo, Wyrand and Horstmanshoff play in the band Lovesuckers,
and Wyrand plays in other bands and was in the now-defunct local headliner My
Sister Jane. But when they perform together in their every-other-Thursday gig
at Salt Lake City 's
Dead Goat Saloon, one can feel the "all for one and one for all" vibe. Wyrand may lead off with a bluesy
rockabilly song, and Peters will sing harmony while Horstmanshoff beats a drum.
Then Horstmanshoff, a world traveler who emphasizes percussion, will do a
jazzier, more rhythmic tune. The songs Warner and Peters sing lean more toward
folk and soul. "I want them to sound good, and I want to sound really
good, too," Warner says. "Whatever I do on their music, I want to do
really, really well, to enhance it in any possible way that I can." Peters
calls the Dead Goat "a good listening space," as compared to singles
bars (Horstmanshoff lists the lesbian Paper Moon and the straight Green Street
Social Club in the same breath in that context) where the patrons just want loud
music for dancing. It was at Green
Street that
Gearl Jam was born. Peters had her weekly Thursday night gig there one night
three years ago, just hours after having a benign lump removed from her breast.
"I couldn't hold my guitar up to my chest," Peters says. Wyrand and
Horstmanshoff joined in a jam session and stayed on; Warner joined a year and a
half ago. Some of the songs, like the love ballads sung in the second person,
do not reveal a sexual preference. (Warner says her song "There's a Light,"
inspired by the good spirits she encountered during Salt Lake's Gay Pride Day,
gets compliments from church-going folk who interpret it as a song about
Jesus.) Horstmanshoff's "Bring the Grind," with the pulsating lyric
"Sweat rolls down her bare breast," is more up front. Then again,
when the foursome starts jamming on cover tunes -- starting with Warner belting
out Donna Summer's "Hot Stuff" -- it's the straight gal, Peters, who
sings America's "Sister Goldenhair" without changing the lyrics
("I ain't ready for the altar, but I do believe there's times / when a
woman sure can be a friend of mine"). Like the music, the Gearl Jam
audience is not so easy to characterize. On one Thursday, the 30-plus fans who
braved Utah 's
unusual mid-November chill included several straight couples, a group of
beer-drinking guys, two quartets of women, and Horstmanshoff's 70ish parents
(who also are her roadies). Nearly everyone is listening intently; by the end
of the first set, two of the women are swing-dancing. "A majority of my [solo] audience and
Gearl Jam's audience have either been gay, lesbian, or gay-friendly or
embracing," Peters says. Gearl Jam
tries to return the favor, by performing benefits for organizations from the Utah
AIDS Foundation to the Rape Recovery Network, and by being a welcoming voice
for gay audiences. "A lot of people need a gay-friendly environment,
especially if people are going out as couples and want to express their
affection for one another," Wyrand says. "I think we do provide
that."
31 December 2000 The Salt Lake Tribune Page: A15 Richard
Teerlink and Paul Trane take a walk at Sugar House
Park . Both grew up in the
LDS Church , believing there was something
wrong with them because they are gay. "There's no shadow anymore,"
says Trane, 63. "We can talk to each other about anything and
everything." Divided Lives Find Healing After a half-century of turmoil,
two men find peace of mind with each other BY HEATHER MAY It took just about
half a century for Richard Teerlink and Paul Trane to find themselves. Finding
each other took a lot less time. Now in
their 60s, the two men grew up believing being gay was the ultimate shame, and
it became for each his biggest secret. Teerlink and Trane lived most of their lives
in the closet, marrying and raising their babies to adulthood. It wasn't until
they were both about 50 that they formally left their straight lives to forge
ones as gay men. A mutual friend introduced them eight years ago. Their first
date was to Red Butte
Gardens in Salt Lake City . It was there, in 1997, that
they exchanged gold bands in a commitment ceremony. They bought a condo
together and drew up papers allowing them to legally act on each other's
behalf. "There's no shadow anymore," says Trane, 63. "We can
talk to each other about anything and everything." Today, Teerlink and
Trane navigate two types of families: their biological ones and the one they
pieced together through friends, church and political activism. On a recent
weekend, for example, they attended one of their grandson's fifth birthday
party and left early to go a Christmas party for members of a gay, lesbian,
straight education network. Christmas stockings hang in their living room for
their grandchildren, who they see often, along with most of the seven children
they have between them. While they hate to say it, because they don't want to
hurt their children, Trane and Teerlink regret getting married. They grew up
attending The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, went on missions and
felt they had no other choice than to get married. They believed that if they
were devout enough, they would be "cured." They grew up in a time
when homosexuality was considered a mental illness and people were
institutionalized for it. The thinking was, "Some people are born without
feet, some people are born with some awful disease," Teerlink said.
"I was born a homosexual and that was my burden." Trane and Teerlink
weren't "cured" and both eventually divorced and left the LDS Church .
Once they met, they kept their
relationship quiet in some circles. Both were educators -- Trane a principal
and Teerlink a teacher -- and worked in schools on the west side of the Salt Lake
Valley . After work, they
stayed on the east side to avoid running into students and their parents,
fearing their jobs could be in jeopardy. Now that they are retired, they are
more open about their lives. They are active in the First Unitarian
Church and an
organization for gay, lesbian and straight educators. They sit on a hate-crimes
task force and help run a gay/straight alliance club for high school students. They
created that family, too. As for their biological ties, they feel blessed that
most of their family accepts them, proven by something as simple as a Christmas
card addressed to them both. "It signals, 'We acknowledge and accept the
reality that you're a couple,' " Trane said. "To us, it's a big
deal."
31 December 2000 The
Salt Lake Tribune Page: A13 Family Wrestles With the Truth, From a near-suicide to acceptance BY BOB MIMS
It was Good Friday, 1997, when the world of then-Mormon bishop David Hardy, his
wife Carlie, and their six children -- one in particular -- turned upside down
in the blood and pain of a suicide attempt. For a year, the Hardys had known
their son, Judd, was in an all-out struggle with same-sex attraction. Devout
Mormons, they had turned to their church. The counseled prayer, fasting and
immersion in scripture did not change Judd's urges; neither did visits with
counselors who practiced so-called "Reparative Therapy" techniques
aimed at "curing" him of his homosexuality. Still, for a time, they held out hope that Judd may yet go on a
church mission, marry, have children and find peace in the church. But on that
Good Friday, the couple was reluctantly concluding what they now wholeheartedly
accept: Judd was born to be gay. On that
day, Carlie Hardy's temple-recommend interview with her bishop had been
contentious. When the question-and-answer session that determines a Mormon's
worthiness to perform sacred temple rites got to the part about sustaining
church leaders' teachings, they had argued about the faith's uncompromising
rejection of homosexuality. "I was told to teach my son celibacy,"
she recalled. "Then he playfully punched me on the shoulder and said,
'See? This homosexual thing isn't that big a deal.' " When she called home
moments later, she learned that Judd, 16, had taken a pair of her scissors to
his wrist and hit an artery. "Blood was everywhere in the house,"
Carlie said. The apparent last straw for the boy had been a lesson that day at
his high school's LDS Seminary on the biblical destruction of Sodom
and Gomorrah , a
message that drove home the sinfulness of homosexuality. "That pushed me
over the edge," said Judd, now a 19-year-old drama student at New York University in an openly gay
relationship. "I felt very dirty, wrong, perverted. "I fasted, I prayed, I read my scriptures
through five times. I went through reparative therapy that taught me that if I
had not changed, it was because there was something inside me that wasn't
humble enough, that I hadn't done enough," he said. Then came the seminary
lesson and desperation. There would be no mission, no temple marriage for time
and eternity, no children, no lifelong service to the church which generations
of his family had revered. The healing,
for both Judd and his family, would be gradual and painful. Their decision to
support him, however, was swift. "That was a real wake-up call for
us," said David, who eventually
would request and receive release from his calling as an LDS bishop at the University of Utah . "We realized that we were
either going to lose our son, who had done nothing wrong, or we were going to
face reality." Convinced Judd's
depression would linger only as long as
he remained in Utah ,
the Hardys sent Judd to a private school in the gay-friendly Bay Area, where he
excelled in his studies and made new friends. There, Judd said, he learned to
"accept and not fight what was going on inside me. I was outside of this
raging conflict . . . I was able to explore this spiritual side of me."
The boy found peace in a month long
hiking trip in the Sierras. "I have a deep connection to nature. It has
become my church." Steven
Sternfeld, a professor of linguistics at the University
of Utah , found a peaceful conclusion
to his struggle to be both Jewish and gay within Judaism's tiny
Reconstructionist movement and its Chavurah B'Yachad synagogue in Salt Lake City . It has
been a long, bumpy ride. From puberty on, Sternfield was aware his sexual
orientation was toward other boys, not the girls his friends had begun to chase
with awakening ardor. "By high school I knew what was going on, but it
wasn't something I could accept," he said. "I was very pigheaded and
made a decision that if my wiring was faulty, then I just wouldn't ever turn on
the electricity. I made a decision to be celibate." It wasn't until he was a graduate student at
the University of
Southern California that
he dove into what he now describes, at 49, as "a period of just horrible
exploration of gay life in the late '70s. "It was nothing more than bar
scenes. I was thinking, 'Oh my God, this is what I turned on the electricity
for?' It was very disillusioning," Sternfeld said. A longtime female
friend suggested that marriage was the solution. Together, she said, they could
build a happy Jewish household, have children and leave the past behind. They
wed in 1982 and separated before their seventh anniversary. The couple have two daughters, now 14 and 17,
who live with their father. Someday,
Sternfeld hopes, Chavurah B'Yachad -- whose Reconstructionist Rabbinical
Association allows same-sex commitment ceremonies -- might be where he weds
again. This time, he says, it will be to Mr. Right, instead of Ms. Wrong.
31 December 2000 The Salt Lake Tribune Page: A13 The LDS
Choices: Marriage or Celibacy 'Reach out with love and understanding,'
leadership counseled BY BOB MIMS For
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, the debate over its degree of
acceptance of gays and lesbians within its ranks has always come down to two
unshakable tenets of Mormon faith: the sanctity of marriage and family and a
firm standard of moral conduct built on chastity. A section of the church's
official guide for ecclesiastical leaders, Understanding and Helping Those Who
Have Homosexual Problems, states that sexual relations are proper only between
a husband and wife. "Any other sexual contact, including fornication,
adultery, and homosexual and lesbian behavior, is sinful." Quoting the
governing First Presidency, the document warns: "Those who persist in such
practices or who influence others to do so are subject to church
discipline." The six-page booklet, published in 1992, counsels bishops,
stake presidents and their counselors to "reach out with love and
understanding to those struggling with these issues." However, it rejects
arguments that same-sex attractions cannot be overcome, or that homosexual
tendencies are inborn. "Change is possible. There are those who have
ceased their homosexual behavior and overcome such thoughts and feelings. God
has promised to help those who earnestly strive to live his commandments."
Mormons seeking to overcome same-sex orientation are urged to avoid pornography
and masturbation, end "unhealthy relationships," fast, pray, study
scripture and listen to inspirational music. And, the booklet advises, help may
be needed from "qualified therapists who understand and honor gospel
principles." That is as close as Understanding and Helping Those Who Have
Homosexual Problems comes to mentioning such groups as Evergreen International,
or the school of so-called "Reparative Therapy" it embraces. While
the LDS Church does not officially endorse
Evergreen, the group's membership is heavily Mormon and LDS Family Services
occasionally makes referrals to therapists from the group. Reparative Therapy, also known as Conversion
Therapy, insists homosexuality is a learned behavior, not truly an orientation.
What can be learned, RT enthusiasts maintain, can be unlearned; homosexuals can
be cured through counseling, prayer and support groups. The success of such
therapy is anecdotal, with no conclusive long-term research available. Most
psychologists view RT as ineffective at best and potentially dangerous to its
participants, whom they see as deluded into battling an integral part of their
natures. Courtney Moser, adviser for Utah
State University 's
Pride Alliance, went through years of "reorientation." "Every
person I know who has been through reorientation programs has come out very
messed up, very emotionally and spiritually damaged," Moser says.
"They have trouble forming any kind of relationship. And they usually hate
religion because of it." While many other conservative and evangelical
Christian denominations share the LDS Church's attempt at compassionate
rejection of homosexuality, several mainline Protestant churches -- among them
American Baptists, United Methodists, Evangelical Lutherans, Unitarian
Universalists and Episcopalians -- have adopted varying degrees of acceptance
for gay members and clergy in recent years. The debate continues among Roman
Catholics, with the Vatican
both condemning homosexual acts as sin, and allowing that homosexual
orientation can be something one is born with. While urging pastoral
understanding of gay Catholics, the church also has recommended those with
same-sex feelings consider celibacy. "I didn't choose to be gay," he
says. "In my case, I actively chose against it -- and it didn't work.
31 December 2000 The Salt Lake Tribune Page: A14 Couples to
Challenge Utah Adoption Ban Statute allows single, but not partnered, gays to
become legal parents BY GREG BURTON Two
years ago, Cristy Gleave and Roni Wilcox, her partner of five years, conceived
a child whose anonymous father was chosen for intelligence, dark hair and hazel
eyes. Years in the planning, the clinical procedure took just four minutes.
"Oh, my God," Gleave whispered in wonder. Two hours earlier, Wilcox had called her
doctor to report she was ovulating. Gleave sped home from work in Ogden , picked up Wilcox at their Salt
Lake City home and headed for University Hospital
to collect a Styrofoam cooler holding a syringe of sperm, then drove to the
doctor. "We were just so beside ourselves afterward," Wilcox recalls.
"We looked at each other and said 'We could be parents. We could actually
be parents.' " Few lesbian couples in Utah have taken a similar path to
parenthood. For Wilcox and Gleave, it was a decision made easier by a series of
judicial rulings granting adoption rights to the nonbiological parent of gay
and lesbian couples in Utah
and elsewhere. On March 22, Gleave legally adopted Yeager, a sturdy child with blond hair and big hazel eyes.
Absent the adoption, Gleave's parental rights in a custody battle or in the
instance of Wilcox's death would have been uncertain. Yeager also would have
tenuous legal standing to benefit from Gleave's estate, medical insurance
coverage or Social Security benefits. The date of Yeager's adoption is
especially critical. Eight days earlier, Gov. Mike Leavitt -- saying he believed
it best for a child to be raised by a mother and a father -- signed a law,
enacted by the Legislature, that banned adoptions by sexually involved couples
who were living together but not married. That means Yeager could be the last
legally adopted child of a nonbiological lesbian mother in Utah .
"It's heartbreaking," says Laura Milliken Gray, a Salt Lake City attorney
who has handled more than half of the state's gay adoptions. "Loving
couples come in here every day asking 'Why? Why can't we adopt?' " "What's so insane about this law,"
Gray says, "is, if you are single and gay and don't live with anyone, you
can still adopt. It's crazy." Gay
adoptions in Utah
were virtually unheard of a decade ago. Family law attorneys believe the first
adoption of a child by a gay Utah
couple occurred around 1998; as many as 30 followed. Some were "stranger
adoptions," or adoptions of a child who didn't previously live with either
parent. Others were "second parent adoptions" or step-parent
adoptions involving a child already residing with one or both parents. All
proceeded under a Utah
adoption law that stood unchallenged for 60 years. The fabric of the old law
began to fray during a battle over an administrative policy enacted by the
board of Utah 's
Division of Child and Family Service that bars same-sex couples and unmarried
heterosexual couples from state-sponsored adoptions. The ensuing fight
engendered a conservative backlash joined by Brigham
Young University
law professor Lynn Wardle, who testified in favor of Utah 's new statute. "This was a response to the problem of
stealth adoptions," Wardle says. "There were a number of judges who
were sympathetic to gay and lesbian couples. . . . That was troubling." That
is a disingenuous argument, Gray says, because Utah 's old law specifically called for
judicial review. Perhaps the most passionate plea against changing the law was
delivered by Utah 's first openly gay lawmaker,
Rep. Jackie Biskupski, D-Salt
Lake City .
"I can tell you that the lesbian some see is not me," Biskupski told
lawmakers before they voted on the bill. "The stereotypes that people use
to justify their hatred for me are not me. I am not all of those negative
things you have been taught to believe about me. I am not less than human and
therefore do not deserve to have my liberties taken away from me." Still,
the statute aligned Utah with Florida as the only
states where gay couples are prevented from adopting. Soon after, Mississippi became the
third. Only Vermont
specifically allows gay couple adoptions. Wilcox and Gleave, along with several
other Utah couples, are gearing up to
challenge Utah 's
new law, with Gray in their corner. "Gay couples who adopt are just like
straight couples who can't have children who want to adopt -- there is a real desire
there, a love and a passion for parenthood," says Gray, who reserves a
wall in her office for pictures of gay families she has helped preserve.
"There is no accident when a lesbian couple gets pregnant."
Hardy Family |
2000 The
Salt Lake Tribune Page: A13 Family Wrestles With the Truth, From a
near-suicide to acceptance BY BOB MIMS It was Good Friday, 1997, when the world
of then-Mormon bishop David Hardy, his wife Carlie, and their six children --
one in particular -- turned upside down in the blood and pain of a suicide
attempt. For a year, the Hardys had known their son, Judd, was in an all-out
struggle with same-sex attraction. Devout Mormons, they had turned to their
church. The counseled prayer, fasting and immersion in scripture did not change
Judd's urges; neither did visits with counselors who practiced so-called
"Reparative Therapy" techniques aimed at "curing" him of
his homosexuality. Still, for a time, they held out hope
that Judd may yet go on a church mission, marry, have children and find peace
in the church. But on that Good Friday, the couple was reluctantly concluding
what they now wholeheartedly accept: Judd was born to be gay. On that day,
Carlie Hardy's temple-recommend interview with her bishop had been contentious.
When the question-and-answer session that determines a Mormon's worthiness to
perform sacred temple rites got to the part about sustaining church leaders'
teachings, they had argued about the faith's uncompromising rejection of
homosexuality. "I was told to teach my son celibacy," she recalled.
"Then he playfully punched me on the shoulder and said, 'See? This
homosexual thing isn't that big a deal.' " When she called home moments
later, she learned that Judd, 16, had taken a pair of her scissors to his wrist
and hit an artery. "Blood was everywhere in the house," Carlie said.
The apparent last straw for the boy had been a lesson that day at his high
school's LDS Seminary on the biblical destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah,
a message that drove home the sinfulness of homosexuality. "That pushed me
over the edge," said Judd, now a 19-year-old drama student at New
York University in an openly gay relationship. "I felt very
dirty, wrong, perverted. "I fasted, I prayed, I read my
scriptures through five times. I went through reparative therapy that taught me
that if I had not changed, it was because there was something inside me that
wasn't humble enough, that I hadn't done enough," he said. Then
came the seminary lesson and desperation. There would be no mission, no temple
marriage for time and eternity, no children, no lifelong service to the church
which generations of his family had revered. The healing, for both Judd and his
family, would be gradual and painful. Their decision to support him, however,
was swift. "That was a real wake-up call for
us," said David, who eventually would request and receive release from his
calling as an LDS bishop at the University of Utah. "We
realized that we were either going to lose our son, who had done nothing wrong,
or we were going to face reality." Convinced Judd's depression would linger
only as long as he remained in Utah, the Hardys sent Judd to a private
school in the gay-friendly Bay Area, where he excelled in his studies and made
new friends. There, Judd said, he learned to "accept and not fight what
was going on inside me. I was outside of this raging conflict . . . I was able
to explore this spiritual side of me." The boy found peace in a
month long hiking trip in the Sierras. "I have a deep connection to
nature. It has become my church." Steven Sternfeld,
a professor of
linguistics at the University of Utah, found a
peaceful conclusion to his struggle to be both Jewish and gay within Judaism's
tiny Reconstructionist movement and its Chavurah B'Yachad synagogue in Salt
Lake City. It has been a long, bumpy ride. From puberty on, Sternfield was
aware his sexual orientation was toward other boys, not the girls his friends
had begun to chase with awakening ardor. "By high school I knew what was
going on, but it wasn't something I could accept," he said. "I was
very pigheaded and made a decision that if my wiring was faulty, then I just
wouldn't ever turn on the electricity. I made a decision to be celibate."
It wasn't until he was a graduate student at the University of Southern
California that he dove into what he now describes, at 49, as "a
period of just horrible exploration of gay life in the late '70s. "It
was nothing more than bar scenes. I was thinking, 'Oh my God, this is what I
turned on the electricity for?' It was very disillusioning," Sternfeld
said. A longtime female friend suggested that marriage was the solution.
Together, she said, they could build a happy Jewish household, have children
and leave the past behind. They wed in 1982 and separated before their seventh
anniversary. The couple have two daughters, now 14 and
17, who live with their father. Someday, Sternfeld
hopes, Chavurah B'Yachad -- whose Reconstructionist Rabbinical Association
allows same-sex commitment ceremonies -- might be where he weds again. This
time, he says, it will be to Mr. Right, instead of Ms. Wrong.The Nation Mormon Family Values
Steven Sternfeld |
2000 Salt
Lake Tribune Page: A13 The LDS Choices: Marriage or Celibacy 'Reach out with
love and understanding,' leadership counseled BY BOB
MIMS For The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, the
debate over its degree of acceptance of gays and lesbians within its ranks has
always come down to two unshakable tenets of Mormon faith: the sanctity of marriage
and family and a firm standard of moral conduct built on chastity. A
section of the church's official guide for ecclesiastical leaders,
Understanding and Helping Those Who Have Homosexual Problems, states that
sexual relations are proper only between a husband and wife. "Any other
sexual contact, including fornication, adultery, and homosexual and lesbian
behavior, is sinful." Quoting the governing First Presidency, the document
warns: "Those who persist in such practices or who influence others to do
so are subject to church discipline." The six-page booklet, published in
1992, counsels bishops, stake presidents and their counselors to "reach
out with love and understanding to those struggling with these issues." However,
it rejects arguments that same-sex attractions cannot be overcome, or that
homosexual tendencies are inborn. "Change is possible. There are those who
have ceased their homosexual behavior and overcome such thoughts and feelings.
God has promised to help those who earnestly strive to live his
commandments." Mormons seeking to overcome same-sex orientation are urged
to avoid pornography and masturbation, end "unhealthy relationships,"
fast, pray, study scripture and listen to inspirational music. And, the booklet
advises, help may be needed from "qualified therapists who understand and
honor gospel principles." That is as close as Understanding and Helping
Those Who Have Homosexual Problems comes to mentioning such groups as Evergreen
International, or the school of so-called "Reparative Therapy" it
embraces. While the LDS Church does not
officially endorse Evergreen, the group's membership is heavily Mormon and LDS
Family Services occasionally makes referrals to therapists from the group.
Reparative Therapy, also known as Conversion Therapy, insists homosexuality is
a learned behavior, not truly an orientation. What can be learned, RT
enthusiasts maintain, can be unlearned; homosexuals can be cured through
counseling, prayer and support groups. The success of
such therapy is anecdotal, with no conclusive long-term research available.
Most psychologists view RT as ineffective at best and potentially dangerous to
its participants, whom they see as deluded into battling
an integral part of
their natures. Courtney Moser, adviser for Utah State University's
Pride Alliance, went through years of "reorientation." "I
didn't choose to be gay," he says. "In my case, I actively chose
against it -- and it didn't work. "Every person I know who has
been through reorientation programs has come out very messed up, very
emotionally and spiritually damaged," Moser says. "They have trouble
forming any kind of relationship. And they usually hate religion because of
it." While many other conservative and evangelical
Christian denominations share the LDS Church's attempt at compassionate
rejection of homosexuality, several mainline Protestant churches -- among them
American Baptists, United Methodists, Evangelical Lutherans, Unitarian
Universalists and Episcopalians -- have adopted varying degrees of acceptance
for gay members and clergy in recent years. The debate continues
among Roman Catholics, with the Vatican both condemning homosexual
acts as sin, and allowing that homosexual orientation can be something one is
born with. While urging pastoral understanding of gay Catholics, the church
also has recommended those with same-sex feelings consider celibacy.Cristy Gleave & Chris Buttars |
2000 Salt Lake Tribune
Page: A14 Couples to Challenge Utah Adoption Ban Statute allows single, but not
partnered, gays to become legal parents BY GREG BURTON Two years ago, Cristy
Gleave and Roni Wilcox, her partner of five years, conceived a child whose
anonymous father was chosen for intelligence, dark hair and hazel eyes. Years
in the planning, the clinical procedure took just four minutes. "Oh, my
God," Gleave whispered in wonder. Two hours earlier, Wilcox had called her
doctor to report she was ovulating. Gleave sped home from work in Ogden,
picked up Wilcox at their Salt Lake City home and headed for University Hospital to
collect a Styrofoam cooler holding a syringe of sperm, then drove to the
doctor. "We were just so beside ourselves afterward," Wilcox recalls.
"We looked at each other and said 'We could be parents. We could actually
be parents.' " Few lesbian couples in Utah have taken a similar
path to parenthood. For Wilcox and Gleave, it was a decision made easier by a
series of judicial rulings granting adoption rights to the nonbiological parent
of gay and lesbian couples in Utah and elsewhere. On March 22, Gleave
legally adopted Yeager, a sturdy child with blond hair and big hazel
eyes. Absent the adoption, Gleave's parental rights in a custody battle or in
the instance of Wilcox's death would have been uncertain. Yeager also would
have tenuous legal standing to benefit from Gleave's estate, medical insurance
coverage or Social Security benefits. The date of Yeager's adoption is
especially critical. Eight days earlier, Gov. Mike Leavitt -- saying he
believed it best for a child to be raised by a mother and a father -- signed a
law, enacted by the Legislature, that banned adoptions by sexually involved
couples who were living together but not married. That means Yeager could be
the last legally adopted child of a nonbiological lesbian mother in Utah.
"It's heartbreaking," says Laura Milliken Gray,a Salt Lake City attorney
who has handled more than half of the state's gay
adoptions. "Loving
couples come in here every day asking 'Why? Why can't we adopt?' "
"What's so insane about this law," Gray says, "is, if you are
single and gay and don't live with anyone, you can still adopt. It's
crazy." Gay adoptions in Utah were virtually unheard of a decade
ago. Family law attorneys believe the first adoption of a child by a gay Utah couple
occurred around 1998; as many as 30 followed. Some were "stranger
adoptions," or adoptions of a child who didn't previously live with either
parent. Others were "second parent adoptions" or step-parent
adoptions involving a child already residing with one or both parents. All
proceeded under a Utah adoption law that stood unchallenged for 60
years. The fabric of the old law began to fray during a battle over an
administrative policy enacted by the board of Utah's Division of Child and
Family Service that bars same-sex couples and unmarried heterosexual couples
from state-sponsored adoptions. The ensuing fight engendered a conservative
backlash joined by Brigham Young University law professor
Lynn Wardle, who testified in favor of Utah's new statute. "This was
a response to the problem of stealth adoptions," Wardle says. "There
were a number of judges who were sympathetic to gay and lesbian couples. . . .
That was troubling." That is a disingenuous argument, Gray says, because Utah's
old law specifically called for judicial review. Perhaps the most passionate
plea against changing the law was delivered by Utah's first openly gay
lawmaker, Rep. Jackie Biskupski, D-Salt Lake City. "I can
tell you that the lesbian some see is not me," Biskupski told lawmakers
before they voted on the bill. "The stereotypes that people use to justify
their hatred for
me are not me. I am not all of those negative things you have
been taught to believe about me. I am not less than human and therefore do not
deserve to have my liberties taken away from me." Still, the statute
aligned Utah with Florida as the only states where gay
couples are prevented from adopting. Soon after, Mississippi became
the third. Only Vermont specifically allows gay couple adoptions. Wilcox
and Gleave, along with several other Utah couples, are gearing up to
challenge Utah's new law, with Gray in their corner. "Gay couples who
adopt are just like straight couples who can't have children who want to adopt
-- there is a real desire there, a love and a passion for parenthood,"
says Gray, who reserves a wall in her office for pictures of gay families she
has helped preserve. "There is no accident when a lesbian couple gets
pregnant."
Laura Gray |
Lynn Wardle |
Jackie Biskupski |
2000 Salt Lake Tribune
Page: A14 Gearl Jam Is Not Quite a Band Singer-songwriter support group draws
eclectic audiences to Dead Goat gigs BY SEAN P. MEANS Don't
call Gearl Jam a "gay band. For starters, it's not a band. Bands rehearse
more often. What Gearl Jam is, says founding member Trace Wyrand, is
"a singer-songwriter
collective" whose regular members -- Wyrand,
Leraine Horstmanshoff, Kathryn Warner and Megan Peters -- take turns singing
their own songs. The others provide backup, musically and emotionally, in a
free-form performance that lives up to the "jam" part of their name.
Yes, three of the four
women are lesbian (Peters is, as she puts it, the
"token breeder"), and a substantial portion of the 3-year-old group's
fan base is also gay. But sexual orientation is not what pulls Gearl Jam and
its fans together. It's the music. "I don't think any of us are
necessarily coming from a place where first we're gay, therefore [gay
audiences] will come see us," says Wyrand, 39. "I don't know if it's
about being gay, or being singer-songwriters, or being women," says
Peters, 36. To which Warner, 43, responds, "It's
because we're good." Considering that camaraderie, and the close-knit
nature of Utah's musician and gay communities, Peters jokes, "It's
amazing none of us have slept with each other." Each woman has her own
performing career -- Peters and Warner perform solo, Wyrand and Horstmanshoff
play in the band Lovesuckers, and Wyrand plays in other bands and was in the
now-defunct local headliner My Sister Jane. But when they perform together in
their every-other-Thursday gig at Salt Lake City's Dead Goat Saloon, one
can feel the "all for one and one for all" vibe. Wyrand
may lead off with a bluesy rockabilly song, and Peters will sing harmony while
Horstmanshoff beats a drum. Then Horstmanshoff, a world traveler who emphasizes
percussion, will do a jazzier, more rhythmic tune. The songs Warner and Peters
sing lean more toward folk and soul. "I want them to sound good, and I
want to sound really good, too," Warner says. "Whatever I do on their
music, I want to do really, really well, to enhance it in any possible way that
I can." Peters calls the Dead Goat "a good listening space," as
compared to singles bars (Horstmanshoff lists the lesbian Paper Moon and the
straight Green Street Social Club in the same breath in that context) where the
patrons just want loud music for dancing. It was at Green Street that
Gearl Jam was born. Peters had her weekly Thursday night gig there one night
three years ago, just hours after having a benign lump removed from her breast.
"I couldn't hold my guitar up to my chest," Peters says. Wyrand and
Horstmanshoff joined in a jam session and stayed on; Warner joined a year and a
half ago. Some of the songs, like the love ballads sung in the second person,
do not reveal a sexual preference. (Warner says her song "There's a
Light," inspired by the good spirits she encountered during Salt Lake's
Gay Pride Day, gets compliments from church-going folk who interpret it as a
song about Jesus.) Horstmanshoff's "Bring the Grind," with the
pulsating lyric "Sweat rolls down her bare breast," is more up front.
Then again, when the foursome starts jamming on cover tunes -- starting with
Warner belting out Donna Summer's "Hot Stuff" -- it's the straight
gal, Peters, who sings America's "Sister Goldenhair" without changing
the lyrics ("I ain't ready for the altar, but I do believe there's times /
when a woman sure can be a friend of mine"). Like the music, the Gearl Jam
audience is not so easy to characterize. On one Thursday, the 30-plus fans who
braved Utah's unusual mid-November chill included several straight
couples, a group of beer-drinking guys, two quartets of women, and
Horstmanshoff's 70ish parents (who also are her roadies). Nearly everyone is
listening intently; by the end of the first set, two of the women are
swing-dancing. "A majority of my [solo] audience
and Gearl Jam's audience have either been gay, lesbian, or gay-friendly or
embracing," Peters says. Gearl Jam tries to return the favor, by
performing benefits for organizations from the Utah AIDS Foundation to the Rape
Recovery Network, and by being a welcoming voice for gay audiences. "A lot
of people need a gay-friendly environment, especially if people are going out
as couples and want to express their affection for one another," Wyrand
says. "I think we do provide that." Gearl Jam
Leraine Hortsmansoff |
Megan Peters |
Kathryn Warner |
2000 Salt Lake Tribune
Page: A15 'Two Spirits' Respected in Indian Tradition Indians Have Tradition of
Respect for Gays Attitudes emphasize spiritual qualities more than sexual
orientation BY BOB MIMS Outside of her friends in the Navajo Indian Reservation
town of Chinle, Ariz., few know the striking 5-foot-9 woman is
biologically male. Indeed, she once parlayed her shoulder-length, walnut and
blond hair and olive complexion into a modeling career in Phoenix before
moving back to her native redrock canyons. Now, she works as a caseworker for
the Navajo AIDS Network, helping others who have tested positive for the HIV
virus. "Call me by my disc jockey name, 'Darian Phyve,' " she
requests, noting that while most of her fellow Navajos are tolerant of gay and
transgendered people, a few are not. The 28-year-old transgendered DJ, who
works private parties in her off hours, considers herself a "Two
Spirit," which in American Indian lore is a person born with male and
female personalities. In her case, the feminine spirit is stronger; she cannot
recall when it was not. It is a view fundamentally different from that in
Western white civilization's Judeo-Christian roots -- that homosexuality is
sinful. Instead, many Indians have traditions of same-sex acceptance and
incorporation of gays into tribal life. Tribal attitudes toward homosexuality
were seldom simply based on sexual orientation, but involved both physical and
spiritual attributes, according to Richley Crapo, a professor of anthropology
at Utah State University and student of Great Basin Native
American culture. Many tribes recognize three genders: male, female and Two
Spirits -- biological males, females or hermaphrodites able to fill both male
and female roles. “These distinctive Two Spirit roles usually included some religious
responsibilities, such as christening babies, treating women for infertility
with religious rituals and conducting funeral rituals," Crapo said. In
some tribes, Two Spirit status was extended to females who had adopted male
characteristics along with same-sex preferences, and vice versa for males. Thus
same-sex couples would have masculine and feminine partners. "Two Spirit
persons were not stigmatized. In fact, they were generally thought of as having
a very high status," Crapo said. "Individuals with same-sex
orientation . . . would have found a very comfortable place in most North
American Indian tribes." Respecting Difference: In the Dine' tongue of the
Navajo, Two Spirits are known as "na'dleh" -- literally, "one
that changes." The term, in turn, has roots in one of the tribe's oldest
legends, the "Separation of the Sexes" story, said Donald Denetdeal,
chairman of the Center for Dine' Studies in Tsaile, Ariz. "At
this point in the oral narratives there came a time when all the men were over
to one side and lived in a certain geographical area and all the women lived in
a different area, too," Denetdeal said. "[It was] a time period . . .
with men having sexual relations with other men and women with women." The
na'dleh in both camps voluntarily assumed sexual roles of the opposite sex.
"These people were respected. That respect continues today,"
Denetdeal said. "Navajos do not promote homosexuality, but in the event
there is one who might be a homosexual, they are not looked down upon or
treated as bad people . . . but as special people due respect. "We are
taught as we are growing up that if we should run into a homosexual . . . we
are not to make fun of them, laugh about them or harass them in any way, shape
or form," he said. That attitude made Phyve's "coming out" much
easier. "It's how your soul perceives who you are," she said.
"We occupy an inaccurate biological body while our dominant spirit, our
mentality and being, are of another individual and sex. "I've
known my feelings sexually as far back as I remember, even 2-3 years old. I was
allowed to express myself freely with my family, and over time it sort of grew
on them. . . . They cherish me as an individual who is an intricate
part of the family." Spiritual Powers: In the language of the Utes,
a gay man is "tozusuhzooch," loosely translated as "A male who
is not quite a male." However, that vague term in no way implied confusion
or rejection over acceptance of Two Spirits into the tribal community.
"These were special people with certain [spiritual] powers,"
explained Venita Taveapont, a Ute social-services worker and tribal cultural
expert. "They were men who dressed and lived as women. They did bead work
and tanned hides, and they were generally the best in the tribe at that."
Traditional tozusuhzooch were revered, but also expected to live
alone. "People would go to them to have them bless their children with
Indian names. Sometimes, they were looked upon as healers," Taveapont
said. Larry Cesspooch, a Ute traditional spiritual leader, said his tribe has
its own story to explain same-sex orientation origins. "As
embryos, we were women before we were men, before we grew penises. So, we
believe we have male and female sides. [In the case of homosexuals] even though
you may have a male body, the female side has taken over," he said. Much
of that respect remains, though tolerance is not what it once was, Cesspooch
and Taveapont agree. The tozusuhzooch tradition is remembered, but
modern Ute gays are defined more often by their sexual proclivities than the
spiritual attributes of the past. "Nowadays, the roles have
changed some," Taveapont said. "They have adopted the
white man's way of being homosexual rather than how it used to be. Today, they
do not have as much respect as they used to; they are more of a novelty."
2000 Salt
Lake Tribune Page: A13 When Teens Come Out Rejection, harrassment eased
by
support at community centers BY HEATHER MAY Amy Ruttinger knows what it's like
to be the odd one out, the small, quiet one with a big secret. Now, at 19,
Ruttinger spends many evenings at the Gay and Lesbian Center of Utah, where
books on gay and lesbian life line the wall and people can surf the Internet or
watch a video as they sip "mocca java," the Homo Brew of the Day.
Throughout the evenings, teen-agers drop by to find her, give her a hug, ask
how she is doing. "This," says Ruttinger, surrounded by about a dozen
teens, "is my family. I'm at home right now." Ruttinger, leader of
one of the center's youth groups, is part mother, part sister and all friend to
her charges, who range in number from five to 25, depending on the night. She
is often the first person they go to when they are being harassed at work,
fighting with friends or just want to talk. For many gay teen-agers, community
centers are often the only places they feel at home, whether or not they are
out to their families, churches or schoolmates. When they do come out, teens
say, and statistics confirm, many are rejected. They are ostracized, kicked out
of the house, sent to therapy, harassed. Ruttinger knows all about that. She
came out to her family three years ago. While several relatives accepted her,
one hit and kicked her and another believed she was possessed by the devil. At
school, friends she had known since second grade snubbed her in the
hallways; other classmates threatened to harm her and her friends. The rejection turned Ruttinger's thoughts to suicide, but she found other family to get her through. Like "Uncle" Jim and "Aunt" Cody, a gay couple who have been together for nine years. She sought their comfort when she came out to her biological family and now visits them once or twice a week -- more often than some of her blood relatives. "I meet all her girlfriends," says Aunt Cody, having a smoke on his porch under white icicle lights and a Christmas wind sock and teasing her for looking like a boy in his big blue coat. Ruttinger hopes young people can go to her like she goes to Cody. She wants to help them avoid becoming the gay youth stereotype: strung out on drugs and alcohol, promiscuous and suicidal. "I've seen them get into sex, whore themselves off," she says. "When you don't have a role model, you're going to have to do what you think is right, which turns out to be wrong in the end. "You're told for years not to have sex with 'him,' she says. "You're not told [what to do] about your girlfriend." On a recent night at the "gay Denny's" restaurant, nicknamed because gay teens hang out there after they have been clubbing, Ruttinger dishes out advice to one boy between spoonfuls of clam chowder. Matt, a 17-year-old from American Fork, asks her about the club she started at Cottonwood High School for gay and lesbian students. She points her spoon at him and says she will help him get one started. Later he asks her, "Is it true gay people are more likely to drop out of school and smoke?" Ruttinger slides closer to Matt and drops her forkful of salad. "I'm not hungry right now, I'm serious," she says. "I can say what I've seen. A majority of mine [friends] have dropped out. . . . You want to know why I started smoking? To handle my depression." Later, Matt will say, "I view [Amy] as a sister figure. One of those people who's just open, you can express yourself to."
Amy Ruttinger |
hallways; other classmates threatened to harm her and her friends. The rejection turned Ruttinger's thoughts to suicide, but she found other family to get her through. Like "Uncle" Jim and "Aunt" Cody, a gay couple who have been together for nine years. She sought their comfort when she came out to her biological family and now visits them once or twice a week -- more often than some of her blood relatives. "I meet all her girlfriends," says Aunt Cody, having a smoke on his porch under white icicle lights and a Christmas wind sock and teasing her for looking like a boy in his big blue coat. Ruttinger hopes young people can go to her like she goes to Cody. She wants to help them avoid becoming the gay youth stereotype: strung out on drugs and alcohol, promiscuous and suicidal. "I've seen them get into sex, whore themselves off," she says. "When you don't have a role model, you're going to have to do what you think is right, which turns out to be wrong in the end. "You're told for years not to have sex with 'him,' she says. "You're not told [what to do] about your girlfriend." On a recent night at the "gay Denny's" restaurant, nicknamed because gay teens hang out there after they have been clubbing, Ruttinger dishes out advice to one boy between spoonfuls of clam chowder. Matt, a 17-year-old from American Fork, asks her about the club she started at Cottonwood High School for gay and lesbian students. She points her spoon at him and says she will help him get one started. Later he asks her, "Is it true gay people are more likely to drop out of school and smoke?" Ruttinger slides closer to Matt and drops her forkful of salad. "I'm not hungry right now, I'm serious," she says. "I can say what I've seen. A majority of mine [friends] have dropped out. . . . You want to know why I started smoking? To handle my depression." Later, Matt will say, "I view [Amy] as a sister figure. One of those people who's just open, you can express yourself to."
Richard Teerlink |
2000 Salt
Lake Tribune Page: A15 Divided Lives Find Healing After a half-century of
turmoil, two men find peace of mind with each other BY HEATHER MAY It took just
about half a century for Richard Teerlink and Paul Trane to find themselves.
Finding each other took a lot less time. Now in their 60s, the two men grew up
believing being gay was the ultimate shame, and it became for each his biggest
secret. Teerlink and Trane lived most of their lives in the closet, marrying
and raising their babies to adulthood. It wasn't until they were both about 50
that they formally left their straight lives to forge ones as gay men. A mutual
friend introduced them eight years ago. Their first date was to Red Butte Gardens in Salt
Lake City. It was there, in 1997, that they exchanged gold bands in a
commitment ceremony. They bought a condo together and drew up papers allowing
them to legally act on each other's behalf. "There's no shadow
anymore," says Trane, 63. "We can talk to each other about anything
and everything." Today, Teerlink and Trane navigate two types of families:
their biological ones and the one they pieced together through friends, church
and political activism. On a recent weekend, for example, they attended one of
their grandson's fifth birthday party and left early to go a Christmas party
for members of a gay, lesbian, straight education network. Christmas stockings
hang in their living room for their grandchildren, who they see often, along
with most of the seven children they have between them. While they
hate to say it, because they don't want to hurt their children, Trane and
Teerlink regret getting married. They grew up attending The Church of Jesus
Christ of Latter-day Saints, went on missions and felt they had no other choice
than to get married. They believed that if they were devout enough, they would
be "cured." They grew up in a time when homosexuality was considered
a mental illness and people were institutionalized for it. The thinking was,
"Some people are born without feet, some people are born with some awful
disease," Teerlink said. "I was born a homosexual and that was my
burden." Trane and Teerlink weren't "cured" and both eventually
divorced and left the LDS Church. Once they met, they kept
their relationship quiet in some circles. Both were educators -- Trane a
principal and Teerlink a teacher -- and worked in schools on the west side of
the Salt Lake Valley. After work, they stayed on the east side
to avoid running into students and their parents, fearing their jobs could be
in jeopardy. Now that they are retired, they are more open about their lives.
They are active in the First Unitarian Church and an
organization for gay, lesbian and straight educators. They sit on a hate-crimes
task force and help run a gay/straight alliance club for high school students. They
created that family, too. As for their biological ties, they feel blessed that
most of their family accepts them, proven by something as simple as a Christmas
card addressed to them both. "It signals, 'We acknowledge and accept the
reality that you're a couple,' " Trane said. "To us, it's a big
deal." Paul Trane Richard Teerlink
Paul Trane |
2002- Save
the Date!! Tired of sitting at home watching Dick Clark ring in the New
Year? You say you DON'T like to be in a SMOKEY bar listening to the
SAME old DISCO music!!! Well, SWERVE has something for YOU!! Join us this
December 31st for our first EVER New Years Eve Black & White Ball!! Where:
Cactus & Tropical (2735 S. 200 E.) When: 7:30 pm to
1:00 am What: An elegant evening will be had by all!! Lisa
Dengg will highlight the evening of Live Jazz beginning at 9 pm. Open
bar featuring superb wines, beers and select Champagne will be
provided. A light buffet of cheeses, fruits, breads and meat will be
available for your evening snack delight! We'll even have some tasty
CHOCOLATE treats for all! Cost for the event is $25.00 for individuals and
$40.00 for duo's! tickets can be purchased at Blue Chaos Salon (3300 S. 1100 E)
and check At the GLCCU Coffee Shop. Special Note: Proceeds go to the Reach Out
and Read Program @ Oquirrh-View Clinic! Kings English Book
store has also agreed to give folks a 10% discount on children's books if you
want to donate a book that evening as well!!! SWERVE is an affiliated program
of the GLCCU!!
2004 Dear
USHS Board Members and Friends, I am excited and pleased to announce that Ben
Williams has been accepted to make a presentation at the State Historical
Society's annual meeting. His presentation will be on Utah's Response to
the AIDS Epidemic 1981-86. Final Detail of the times will be
forwarded later. I would invite member of our community to attend, for this
presentation. It is the first of its kind for the State Historical
Society. And may be the first time in such a forum
our community to take center stage in such a presentation. If
possible, and where appropriate please share with interested parties and
members of your groups. Thanks! Chad Keller USHS Gay Pride Month.
2005 Utah Gay Forum Sat Dec 31, 2005 6:25 pm posted by
Ben Williams This site is now unmoderated for members so watch what
you say because it will go out immediately to everyone. I changed the settings
so that only new members who post will be monitored and then only to make sure
unwanted porno isn't being sent out to the group. Any one joining the group
simply to solicit for commercial sexual products will be banned. So sick of
some always equating Gayness with just sexuality... Happy New Years and may
your days always be Gay. Ben Williams Class of 69
2006 Chad
Keller to Gay Freedom Day Committee: Each of you were included in this email as
Micheal and I feel that you will have something to contribute to the success of
Gay Freedom Day 2007. We hope that you will choose to join us in
producing a successful 2ND annual event It is almost January and it is time to
move forward with preparing our 2ND Annual Gay Freedom Day for 2007. Michael
and I want to again state from the start that Gay Freedom day is not in place
of Pride Day--But it is in addition too. It is a perfect time for
our community to get together and celebrate the weekend of the start of our
quest for equality. Organizing and coordinating all the pieces will
take time. We will be heavily promoting this year as the producers
of Pride As you can see we have selected a theme for this years Gay Freedom
Day. This theme will also be the annual theme for Pride365. As
a side note the Pride365 calendar will be up and running in 2007. If
any one has suggestion where we can encourage posting from businesses and
organizations or where we can harvest information please let Michael and I
know. Some people have accepted assignments already. are still determining time
commitments or which area they might be interested in. Below is
where we need help, and who has signed up to help with that area. If
you see an area we are missing out on please. BBQ--Kevin Hillman and Garth
Gullickson will again be over the BBQ. Again we will have the
standard fare of hot dogs, burgers, chips, and drinks. Proceeds
again will go to cover costs. BOOTHS--Kevin Hillman has also agreed
to be in charge of recruiting organizations, vendor, and businesses to have a
free booth. Each booth will be 10 x 10. Booths will be marked off by
stakes and cord. No table or chairs provided. Booth space is
provided free. All are encouraged to do a fundraiser for their group
that is carnivalish of reminiscent of a county fair. Just out and
out fun. ENTERTAINMENT--It is our hope that we could recruit Mark Thrash and
Nova Starr to handle a small entertainment venue due to his success with
putting wonderful pageants and shows together. Possible highlights
could include a karaoke contest. Other items could be to work with
Kevin Hillman and organization to do things like Smack a Star, Dunk Tank,
Sumo's etc. Their assistance in this area would really be
appreciated. MILESTONE HONORS--Ben and I got these off the ground a couple
years ago, only to have them sabotaged. Ben agreed to help me
make sure these will be given each year at Gay Freedom Day. SOFTBALL--We are
looking for some one to put together a softball challenge. We felt
it was too much to include in entertainment. Michael and I see great benefit to
doing something like Ruby Ridges Muffins vs Mark Thrash & Chad Keller's In
Search of Secret Weapons. Or the Pride Center Team
Unity vs. The USHS Team Tried & True. Or Sheneka Christie's Trapp Door vs
Nova Stars Gossip. Settle some old scores. (THE ULTIMATE
WOULD BE The QSaltLake vs. The Pillar--but I don't think Steven Fales would get
dirty) This could be a great Deb Rosenberg, David Nelson and Scott Stites
committee. RIOT PARTIES COORDINATORS--1 for each Bar. However, Those
clubs that give us the most cash or the most sponsorship of equipment will have
choice of Opening and Closing parties. I was hoping Scott and John
could help out with one big Trapp party. Nova has already committed
to the Club Sound Riot Party. SPONSORS--We were hoping that as a team we could
conquer this task as we all know someone different. AESTHETICS,
PROMOTIONS,EQUIPMENT, & CYA--That would be Michael and myself. Each
chair(s) just need to let us know what you need. We will be creating a packet
for vendors with Kevin, and would like to do one for Entertainment. Michael
Aaron will be overseeing the 2007 logo so it is in keeping with QSaltLake. Ideas
are welcome. Nova were sure will have tons of Idea to share. We
don't want to have a lot of meeting. We are all busy. We
will have to have a few. I hope you are all game. Please
let us know. We couldn't have don't it last year, and we cant do it
without you this year. Thanks! Chad Keller Director Pride365
QSaltLake Micheal Aaron Publisher QSaltLake
2012 Layton man is first openly gay contestant on
'The Biggest Loser' Reality show • WSU student aims to inspire others, share
struggles. By Ray Parker The Salt Lake
Tribune He is
gay, lives in Utah and soon could become The Biggest Loser. Layton resident
Jackson Carter will sweat it out on the reality TV show and weight-loss
competition, which is set to kick off its newest season Sunday on NBC. Dubbed the "first openly gay
contestant," the 21-year-old Utahn auditioned for the show in Salt Lake
City because he wanted to inspire others to be themselves, whether overweight
or gay. He knows about both. "I
think the biggest thing for me, not being accepted by my peer group and fitting
in, I became a people-pleaser and never took care of myself," Carter said.
"I put everyone else's needs before my own. [I am now] aware of it and can
try to fix it." At 21, he weighed 328 pounds. Carter decided to do
something about it by joining the show. In his eyes, he is shedding the pounds
like a bulky sweater, tossing it off into the corner. Show producers will showcase his battle in
season 14, not only with his weight but also with his sexuality. "I think Utah has come a long way the last
few years, Mormons Building Bridges and other people are becoming more aware of
queer issues," Carter said. "The hardest work [on the show] is not
the workout. You have to deal with people who have shut themselves off from
their emotions." And dealing with those emotions can be uncomfortable. "I
don't want to do that one on one, let alone 22 million on one," said
Carter of opening himself up to the country through TV cameras. He volunteers
at the Ogden OUTreach Resource Center, which helps about 350 LGBT and other
youths. The majority who seek help at OUTreach live below the poverty line, and
27 percent are homeless. "I think there are issues everywhere when coming
out," Carter said. "Particularly in Utah, with a religious sect, it
can be more difficult for acceptance." Carter was born in Roosevelt, a
small town on a Ute Indian reservation, and raised there with his two younger
siblings before moving at age 7 to Layton. He remembers a brief time in high
school of being fit, when he transferred from public school to a charter school
for the performing arts. But he has been overweight for most of his life,
bullied both for his weight and his sexuality after coming out at age 14. Today,
Carter is a student at Weber State University, where he is majoring in theater
education with a minor in social work, while also working and volunteering. He
said a busy lifestyle resulted in his weight gain. Once he loses weight, Carter said he looks
forward to participating in physical activities with his OUTreach kids, being
able to go to the beach and take his shirt off, and changing the lives of those
around him who are also struggling with their weight. Peggy Bon, volunteer
co-coordinator at the OUTreach, said Carter serves as an inspiration to many
with whom he shares his experiences. Carter received services at the center as
a kid, but now he helps counsel teens and adults alike, she said. "When
Jackson walks into the room, everybody loves him when he's been in a room about
a minute. There's just something about Jackson," said Bon, adding that
he'll be a great representative for Utah's LGBT community on the show. The new
season of "The Biggest Loser" will feature three children, whose
focus will be on getting healthy rather than their weight, so they will not be
eligible for elimination and will not weigh-in on camera. This season's 15 contestants will be divided
into three teams and supervised by three trainers. Each trainer and team of
five adults will be paired with one child participant who will compete with and
contribute to their respective teams. The adults compete for $250,000. Carter
said he hopes his story will inspire other gay teens. "I think it's good
to have positive LGBT people in the media," Carter said. "It can be
scary and really hard to come out, but if you feel like you're ready, then it's
a personal choice. If you're not comfortable to tell people, then you don't
have to. "The sad truth is it's not always safe, so find some supporters
that you can trust," he said.
2016 Q Salt Lake Person of the Year This year we chose a local now known nationwide as the first trans candidate for the United States Senate. We chose her, not necessarily because she ran, but because she showed our community that a cashier from Taylorsville can make great change. To us, a Person of the Year is an individual or group of people who make the greatest impact — for better or worse — on Utah’s gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender and ally community. We believe Snow’s impact was to instill hope and a sense of possibility into anyone who paid attention to the race.
To run against an incumbent senator, who has the power-brokers and money behind them, is to put yourself forth for judgment from the million-plus voters in the state. Not only did Snow do that, but she did it eloquently and with poise. She brought light to issues that are rarely spoken in a state where candidates of all sides attempt to show how conservative they are. Pay equity, marijuana legalization and clean air were issues brought by Snow to Utah voters — a feat in and of itself. To do so while being a member of a marginalized, misunderstood and much maligned community shows the stuff of a person of the year. Comments from some of those who nominated her perhaps say it better than we can. “She has shown not only the LGBT community, but all of Utah, that no matter who you are or what you think you can do you can always make a huge difference. Her running for Senate was a huge task to take on but she did it with grace and dignity. She is inspirational because she has inspired younger people to become more involved in local government and take control of what is important to you and your values even if they don’t match with “The Majority.” “She is inspiring and courageous! Her campaign for Senator this past year proves that no matter who you are or where you come from, you can make a difference! She fought the good fight for the working class of Utah!” “The most ordinary working person that took the risk to make herself visible and to let Utah know we are all capable of pitching in to our community and government.” For giving our community, people within our community, and future activists the hopes and dreams that they, too, can do big things; and for doing so with dignity, QSaltLake declares Misty Snow as our 2016 Person of the Year. Q
2017 Carol Gnade named Person of the Year by Q Salt Lake for the year. Each year, QSaltLake names as its person of the year an individual or group who has had a substantial effect on Utah’s LGBT community over the year — for good or for ill. This year’s recipient is a familiar face in Utah’s nonprofit sector who has elevated every organization she has touched — Carol Gnade, Utah Pride Center’s executive director for the past two years. The job, according to Gnade, was supposed to be temporary. In October 2015, the former social worker was retired from a life of activism and public-sector work and living in Torrey, Utah, when the Center was shaken by the abrupt departure of its executive director. Marian Edmonds-Allen resigned after just 11 months on the job, citing the Center’s ongoing financial problems and struggles with its board of directors.
When she read about the Center’s predicament, Gnade called up then-board president Kent Frogley, with whom she had served on the Center’s board in the 1990s, and offered her help. Frogley, board member Michael Aguilar, and Gnade met for a candid conversation about the Center’s challenges. After a two-hour discussion in which they addressed such things as the Center’s status in the community, its funds and issues “with the building, staff and media,” Aguilar said Gnade agreed to step in for a few months “to become the ‘steady hand’ that the Center needs.” “Well, here we are two years later,” Gnade, now 72, said, laughing. Her decision wasn’t the only time Gnade stepped in to offer help and a steadying presence to a Utah organization. In the early ’90s, she offered her support to the Utah chapter of the American Civil Liberties Union after learning the state legislature had passed an abortion ban, despite the Supreme Court ruling the procedure constitutional. By then, Gnade, who has a background in social work, had a keen interest in public relations, advertising and nonprofit work. At that time, the chapter had only an executive director and a part-time secretary. When that director, Michelle Parish left, Gnade took on the role and held it from 1993 to 2007. During that time, the ACLU of Utah took on several watershed cases, including East High Gay-Straight Alliance v. Board of Education of Salt Lake City School District and Weaver v. Nebo School District. The East High claim, filed in 1998, sought to prevent the board of education from banning gay-straight alliances at the school. The next, from 1997, addressed the firing of lesbian teacher and high school coach Wendy Weaver because of her sexual orientation. Working side-by-side with the board and Aguilar — who in an uncanny twist of fate became the new president of the board the day Gnade joined the staff — Gnade sought to get the Center back on track. In Aguilar, with his master’s degree in nonprofit management, she said she found a team member who worked well with her. First, the two had to get the Center’s finances back in the black. “I don’t think people realize how challenging it was to eliminate all of our debt,” Aguilar told QSaltLake. “We didn’t just have money readily available to pay it off — we had to fundraise for it. And we had to convince people that the [Utah] Pride Center would be good stewards of their generous contributions … we developed a fundraising plan that would engage donors in this ‘new’ Utah Pride Center.” Their plans included the creation of a new event, the Pride Spectacular. Launched in 2016 as an upgrade to the Grand Marshall Reception, the gala held before the Utah Pride Festival. According to Aguilar, it brings in nearly as much revenue for the Center as the annual festival does. He said that he and Gnade also developed a new mission statement for the Center to “tell an accurate story” about it. As part of this new mission, Gnade had to reexamine the programs and offerings in a Center that had become “kind of like an octopus.” Gnade said it was a matter of finding out what the Center and its staff did best and “doing what we do well rather than trying to do all the things people in the community ask us to do.” Then Gnade realized they didn’t have the resources for it and “can’t do it well.” However, the Center did find, she said, that it could do well at providing “great mental health” services to the LGBT community, which now employs four social workers for counseling. Youth programming, she said, is also something at which the Center excels. Under her leadership, youth events such as Queer Prom in April and its December counterpart, Masqueerade Ball, have flourished. The Center is also home to support groups for LGBT men and women and parents of transgender people. Part of figuring out what the Center did well, said Gnade, also meant partnering with organizations that could do the things they couldn’t do as well, such as outreach to LGBT refugees and homeless LGBT youth. And then, of course, she also had to reevaluate how the Center’s staff and the board should function. “My skills are mainly working with people,” she said. “I love looking at an organization as a group of people who are trying to discover [things] about themselves and grow.” The “people” issues Gnade had to tackle, included “bringing back some peace and cohesiveness” to the Center’s staff, who had reported to four executive directors in a short period. Sue Robbins, the Center’s current board chair, said she was particularly impressed by the calm Gnade brought to employees and board members alike. “When a work environment is calm, you are more productive and it isn’t a draining experience,” she said. “Carol created that environment. She is always thinking of others and it makes her a better leader as she attracts the best in those around her.” Aguilar said he thinks Gnade stayed so long in her “temporary” position because she was having fun. Gnade agrees and admits that she was “probably too young to retire” when she did so the first time. She said now though is a good time to leave, mainly as the Center has bought a new space and will be moving from its 255 E. 400 South address, for a fresh start. “I don’t believe people should stay in these jobs [for too long]. I think it’s good to have turnover,” she said, noting that she thinks she may not have the skills, particularly in social media, that a younger director may have. “I’m going to have a gathering for my retirement and call it the Last Retirement, instead of the Last Supper,” she joked. Both Aguilar and Robbins said they are thankful for the time they shared with Gnade during her two-year “interim” job. “Carol is very humble about all she does and will push others to the forefront before stepping up there herself,” said Robbins. “There is no better recognition for her, as a Person of the Year should be someone that makes all people better that are around them. Carol has done that for the Utah Pride Center and the greater Salt Lake Community.” “There is certainly a new energy about the Center,” Aguilar said. “This is evident by the number of people who applied for Carol’s job! When it seemed like the world was falling apart at the Center — and Carol stepped in and helped save it — nobody wanted to be the executive director. But now everybody does. She did that. She created a place that is welcoming to everyone. A place where everyone wants to be.” So, for coming out of retirement, grabbing the Center’s rudder and steering it into the right direction, and being willing to stay on until it is settled in its new home and has a new director to replace her, QSaltLake Magazine names Carol Gnade its Person of the Year.