This Day In Gay Utah History SEPTEMBER 23

September 23rd

1887  The people vs Thomas Taylor defendant arraigned on a charge of a “Crime Against Nature” pleads not guilty with privilege of withdrawing his plea by Saturday next if he be shall so elect. Southern Utonian 1887-09-23 Court Items page 8

1970- The CBS series Medical Center aired an episode called

Paul Burke

"Undercurrent" in which a brilliant medical researcher played by Paul Burke becomes the target of an anonymous smear campaign and is forced to come out of the closet..  Paul Burke (age 83) actor twice nominated for an Emmy for his role as Detective Adam Flint in the gritty crime hit Naked City (1960-63). Burke was in dozens of TV shows in his 40-year career, including prominent parts on the World War II series 12 O’Clock High and the prime-time soap Dynasty. He died of leukemia and non-Hodgkins lymphoma in Palm Springs, California on September 13, 2009. It did not hurt his career to play a Gay man.

1982-James William Skeel, 50, was found on a bed in his apartment, 4137 S. 570 East. Skeel, known to bring other men to his apartment, had died at least two days earlier of blunt force injuries to the head. Death: September 23, 1982

• ABOUT THIS CASE: James, age 52, was last seen leaving the Staircase Lounge, 3000 S. Highland Dr., at approximately 1:30 am on September 21, 1982. Neighbors reported hearing loud noises in the early hours of September 21st. His body was discovered in his      apartment at 4137 South 570 East on September 23, 1982. He died as a result of blunt force trauma. James’s car, a 1978 blue Chevy Malibu with New Jersey license plates was missing from his home at the time of his death. It was found later that day in the Parking lot of the Bongo Lounge located at 2965 S. Highland Dr.

1985-The Massachusetts House of Representatives rejected a Gay rights law by a vote of 88-65. Several legislators said their reason for opposing the bill was AIDS.

Joel Millard

1987- A thirty member advisory board was established by the Utah Department of Health to develop policies and strategies to deal with the AIDS crisis. Joel Millard, executive director of Project Reality was appointed chair of the committee.  The committee looked at issues of confidentiality of records, denial of insurance, financing and care for AIDS victims, mandatory testing, and discrimination and education programs. No Gay people were on the advisory board.

1987   A meeting at the Sun Club was set up by Graham Bell

Palmer de Paulis

between the Gay Community and Mayor Palmer de Paulis and his staff. Graham Bell was the spokesman for the community. Ben Williams, David Nelson, Greg Garcia, Chris Brown, Satu Sgnigna, Donny Eastepp, Joe Redburn, the owner of the Sun and the two owners of Backstreet were there to represent the community. Mayor DePaulis seemed pretty forthright and candid. Questions about why there wasn't better lighting in front of the bars that protects Gay bashing and harassment of people waiting to enter the club.  The Mayor said that he wasn't aware that it was a problem.  He did say that he would try to appear at next year's Gay Pride Day and he addressed questions about police harassment of the bars and the city's closure of Jeff's Gym, a Gay Bath House.  Anyway as we were all leaving the bar and standing outside the Sun in broad day light with the Mayor and his staff, a car sped by and yelled "FAGGOTS". Well welcome to the world of Gay harassment, Mr. Mayor.  I wonder if the people in the car would shit if they knew who they just yelled faggot at! [Journal of Ben Williams]

Eleanor Smeal

1989 The Utah Chapter of National Organization for Women’s held a Board Reception for Molly Yard,  Eleanor Smeal, and Frances Farley  who were key note speakers. 

1990 A memorial service for Bobbie Dubray was held at the Inbetween.

1998-In the case of Able v. The United States a US court of appeals ruled that the US military's "don't ask, don't tell" policy did not violate the US Constitution.

Elizabeth Birch

2003 Gays in Utah still face struggle By Adam Benson Growing up in small-town Canada, Elizabeth Birch says she knew she was a lesbian early in her life. "I knew dead cold that I was gay at a very young age and I thought it was so cool," she said. Birch, the executive director of the Human Rights Campaign, spent about two hours speaking on issues affecting the lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender community in Utah and nationwide Friday afternoon at the Alumni House. With heated debates about marriage licenses, domestic-partner insurance and a spate of hate crime legislation circulating in Congress, Birch told students they need to continue being proactive and bipartisan in their efforts to further the cause. "The country expects us to be angry and shrill and each time we're not, it throws them off and forces them to listen...The only way to move LGBT issues in America is through bipartisan actions," she said. Birch, who has worked with high-profile politicians and personalities within the LGBT community, like singer Melissa Etheridge and Rep. Barney Frank, D-Mass., said much work still needs to be done within Utah concerning gay issues. "The largest funder of anti-gay activities by far is the Latter-day Saints Church. They simply outspent us," she said. But, Birch said, the divisiveness between religious entities and those in the gay community can be a blessing. "While you may want Utahns to become gay activists overnight, there is a tremendous amount of unity that comes out of struggle...You're beginning to see a pinhole of light," she said. The Friday afternoon luncheon primarily served as an open discussion between Birch and interested students and other members of the community who are impacted by LGBT issues. Bruce Bastian, a member

Bruce Bastian

of the Human Rights Campaign Board of Directors, said Birch's presence and comments at the U were important because of the messages behind them. "To hear Elizabeth speak is very empowering...She has a way of making people feel like they can do the impossible, and it's important for her to see what this movement has accomplished in Utah over the last 10 years," he said. Charles Milne, the director of the LGBT Resource Center at the U, agreed."We wanted Elizabeth to hear the experiences that youth and college students in Utah were facing...Every time anyone vocalizes these issues, it creates a much higher understanding and normalization," he said. Birch was also candid in her comments about the widespread misconceptions many people hold about the gay community. "Lurking below the national consciousness are these snakes, and those snakes are pedophilia.  Most in the straight community want to support us, but fear for the safety of their own children," she said. Birch also emphasized her belief that sexual orientation is predetermined, and therefore should be used to refocus gay issues. "Sexual orientation is very highly likely set in utero...We live in a real world with real live people who are very likely to be born with their sexuality," she said. Bastian and many others in the crowd also debunked the idea that those in the gay community aren't in touch with their more religious side. Gays and lesbians are very spiritual people...We're forced to be. We can be just as spiritual as Christian right-wing conservatives," he said.

Syren Vaughn

2003 Friday 09/23 8:30pm @ the Paper Moon Empress 29 Syren Vaughn, Prince Royale 29 Michael "Spam" Canham and Michelle from Hell Present "Curtain Call, the Broadway Show" Proceeds to benefit the  AIDS Fund.

2005 September 23-25 CAMP PINECLIFF cost $35.00 contact David Ferguson www.utahaids.org  487-2323 or Dick Dotson at 250-2553 This is a great campout for all those who can attend and fun for everyone. The Registration forms for the 14th annual Camp Pinecliff weekend are now available. The Camp for People With HIV/AIDS, their support givers, and volunteers is being held September 23rd - 25th at Camp Pinecliff 18 miles above Coalville on the Wyoming border. Cost is $35 (limited numbers of scholarships are available). The weekend retreat includes crafts, hikes, cyber slut bingo, activities, a great location and a really great menu. Registration forms are available at the Utah AIDS Foundation Foodbank, MCC, the GLBT Center, the SL Metro magazine office, or from UAF support group facilitator David Ferguson. Questions...call Dick at 250-2553.

2006 Hi All - this is a benefit for the Center sponsored by our affiliate Pride Community Softball League. It is also in memory of Dan Montoya who ran the league and died this year. We hope you will join us as a player or a spectator!  SOFTBALL TOURNAMENT 1st Annual Dan Montoya k.a.o.s. KLASSIC previously known as The Stonewall Classic  Saturday, 10:00 a.m. September 23rd Harmony Park, 3750 South Main Street, SLC, UT A community fundraiser in memory of Dan Montoya Hosted by The Pride Community Softball league, An Affiliate of the GLBTCCU. Please come out and support this as spectators or players! Player Fee $10.00 Single Elimination To Register contact Adah Maycock or Ryan Lassalle

2009 Equality Utah has issued a press release naming Brandi Balken their new executive director: After an extensive national search, the Equality Utah Board of Directors has named a local community and board member to lead the organization in its mission to secure equal

Brandi  Balken

rights and protections for gay and transgender Utahns. Brandie Balken, who joined the Board of Directors in January of 2009, had volunteered to serve as the Interim Director while a search for the Executive Director was underway. “We interviewed candidates from all over the country,” said Kris Liacopoulos, one of the Board’s Vice Chairs. “In the end, we realized Brandie was a great fit for our organization. She knows Equality Utah, is well respected in our community, and has the management and communications skills to lead our organization to the next level.” A graduate of Weber State University with degrees in botany and chemistry, Balken has extensive experience working on social justice issues in Utah and elsewhere. Prior to serving on Equality Utah’s Board, Balken also was a member of the Utah Pride Center’s Board of Directors, Board Chair of SweRve, a social and service organization and a facilitator for the Inclusion Center for Community and Justice. Balken has a reputation as a passionate advocate for the lesbian, gay, bi-sexual and transgender community, but it wasn’t until she took the Interim Director role that she realized the work would be a full-time calling. “Over the months of working with the staff on a part-time basis, it has become clear that this is the work I am meant to be doing and Equality Utah is where it can be done.” said Balken. “Gay and transgender Utahns deserve what we all deserve: respectful treatment from our neighbors and fair policies from our government. We’re not going to change misunderstandings and fears overnight, but I’m committed to finding Common Ground. I believe that Utahns are fair minded people, and we will continue to work with other community organizations and the public at large to create a Utah where everyone feels safe and ‘at home.’” Balken replaces Mike Thompson, who served as Equality Utah’s Executive Director for 4 years.

 2009 - ABC's new sitcom Modern Family debuts.  It features three couples, one of which is Gay daddies Cameron and Mitchell. 

            

2009 Eric & The LDS Church Sex abuse victim blames church for 'damaging' therapy By Jesse Fruhwirth Salt Lake City Weekly Eric, a 41-year-old Dallas business professor, was one of the

Jesse Fruhwirth

most interesting and complex individuals I've ever met. I ran into him at the Evergreen International conference. Evergreen is the go-to organization for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to help members change or diminish their homosexuality. To read more about the conference, read: Queer Science: Evergreen attendees seek to balance sexuality, religion & psychology. Eric's sexual baggage is epic. In part, that's because he received no therapy for his childhood sexual abuse until relatively late life. He complains that his LDS therapists fixated on changing his same-sex attraction and never addressed the repercussions of the abuse. He twice sought help from the church to change his sexuality, and twice he turned away not just from the therapy, but from the church itself. Is Eric an ex-ex-gay? I think it's more accurate to call him a sex addict in recovery, and just leave it at that. When he uses the phrase “acting out,” he's referring to sex acts. Nevertheless, he's had personal experiences with the LDS church's concept and comprehension of sexuality generally as well as homosexuality in particular. Eric is not impressed. In fact, he's very angry. This is a transcript of our lunch together recorded Sept. 18. My questions are in bold. I was kidnapped and sexually assaulted as a kid. Coming home from that experience, I was in a home that was not fun to come home to. I had an extremely angry and violent father. I was sexually abused by my older brother. Seeings as how the person who kidnapped me and molested me was on our block, I haven't had the discussion yet, but I wouldn't be surprised if he got to my brother first. Dad was emotionally unavailable and violent, older brother abused me, mom was dealing with her own issues. So I just came from a home where no one could offer me any support. So I had no idea how to deal with this.  I knew I was attracted to men from my earliest memories. There was no latency. I knew early on that that made me different. I couldn't put my finger on it, I didn't know how. A family member actually mentioned the "gay" word, when I was probably 10 or 11, in a disparaging way. I said, “Oh my gosh, that's what that means and that's me. I'm not tellin' anybody about this.”  I've been addicted one way or another to either sex, food or other items. I don't “date” men. I've been acting out since I was young. Through dissociation I was able to compartmentalize it in my head. “That didn't really happen,” or “I'm not going to do that again.” It was completely separate from my life, a secret. I went on a mission for the LDS Church, which I loved and hated. What I loved- I'm the youngest of many boys in the family and being traumatized by my brother early on, I could not trust authority. I still wanted very much to belong to the man's club, the guy's club. No one taught me the rules and I didn't know how. The only way I knew to belong was to act out. How did that “acting out” first manifest itself, with women or men? With men. I have no sexual interest in women, period. As I got older the more difficult it became, this struggle. In high school I started developing real psychological issues. But I went on my mission. Had you been seeing a counselor, had you been dealing with the abuse yet? Oh no. I've always known. This is not a repressed memory. But no one ever explained to me the meaning of it. Did you report it to anyone, a teacher or church leader? I didn't report it to anybody. I found out only four or five years ago that my parents knew about it.  Was the kidnapping reported to police? It was never reported to police. I never even knew my parents knew about it. How long were you gone when you were kidnapped? About a day, a short-term kidnap and sexual assault. Tell me about your mission. On my mission, it was the first time in my life that I'm around this group of guys. I'm doing similar work to them. I thrive in this environment where I belong. I said, “Oh my gosh, I belong. I belong. And it's good.” I liked that aspect. Was it difficult being around all those men? That's the part I hated. Here I am, I'm having great relationships with these guys and having fun. It's the first time in my life I feel accepted. But there are these intrusive sexual thoughts popping into my head. I've been diagnosed with PTSD, from the abuse, and I didn't know these words on my mission. It kinda tripped my relationship with my companion. “Ok, I like you, I'm having fun, but there are these sexual thoughts.” To protect myself, I just shut down. I became very distant, very lonely, very isolated. It was horrible. I came back from my mission extremely bitter because I just felt like, well, to my mind, I was going on a mission to be cured. In my mind all I thought was, “If I'm gay, God will change me. If I do my mission, he'll fix me.” I did everything with the faith that He would take care of me. But then I came back to BYU and I realized, “this sucks.” All my friends are starting to date and get married. And I'm just not interested in that at all. It became very challenging. I decided to go a BYU counselor, thinking in my mind the only issue that's wrong with me is I'm attracted to men, and I need to fix that. When I first came to the counselor, that's who told me to masturbate to pictures of Madonna. I majored in psychology. That's a very behavioralist approach. And all the approaches were behavioralist approaches. Focussing on the external only. I met one graduate students—a graduate student!—he wasn't even a fully certified psychologist. He explored the sexual abuse, finally. And I'm like, “Huh? You mean that's not normal for everyone?” And it scared the hell out of me. I started realizing, you mean all these emotional problems in my life, backing off from relationships and friendships, has nothing to do with me being gay? That it has to do with sexual abuse? Things started clicking and started making sense. But the thing that pissed me off to no end: I turned to the church, I turned to God. They failed me. I left BYU and I left the church. I was out of the church for 10 years. I was very angry. I went to the church for answers. I got love and concern, but no answers. I got judgment. Like, you must be doing something wrong—maybe you're not praying hard enough—if the therapy isn't working to change your same-sex attraction? Right. I went to the church, to my bishop, to the counseling center at BYU—I was looking for anything. Then I realized, “Oh my gosh, not only do they not have the answers. I know more than they do about this stuff.” But also, “Some of the things they're telling me are just downright wrong.” When did you begin to believe that you were not the problem? It was in my counselor's office senior year of college. I realized one day, “They don't have a clue. They care. I can tell they care. But they don't have a clue. If I'm going to get answers about my life, it's not going to come through church channels." So I left the church, figuring I don't want them to teach me. I'm just going to live my life without thinking. So I entered the gay community. There are things I like about the that community, but there are things I also hated. The things I loved were like my mission: feeling I belonged. I was finally able to feel like I'm not hiding from myself and my feelings. For the first time in my like I'm acknowledging certain problems. So, openness and acceptance. Relationships, I was finally able to start developing some friendships. I wasn't feeling like I was always hiding. Everything in the lifestyle was fantastic except for the guilt. I'd get into sexual parts of a relationship. I would follow what I thought was the logical extension of what I wanted to be, but I got these horrible feelings of terror, feelings of nausea and I would run after every encounter. Every relationship, I would run. After sex, I would run. Did masturbation give you a similar terror? Yes. Almost every sexual experience was associated with dissociation. It was almost psychologically like it didn't happen. I was building friendships but not romantic relationships. During those 10 years as a gay man, did you date good guys? In the beginning I was choosing good people. There were a couple that to this day I have the most respect for. Good people, good values, the kind of people who stop to help an old lady change a tire. Toward the end of the 10 years, it had gotten to the point where I was acting out anonymously. Online sex? Yeah, that, and in Dallas it could be at the store, clubs, cruising. That seems reverse for most people. When they first come out it's like delayed adolescence then they mature, but for you it was the opposite. Why? The depression kept growing and growing over not being able to connect intimately with someone. It got to the point where I was so dissociated and so shutting down. I was not allowing myself to accept normal homosexual feelings. More importantly, I was not allowing myself to accept and deal with the underlying sexual abuse part of my feelings. What I thought were just feelings, had come back. In about 1999-2000, I thought, “I'm going to kill myself if I keep going this way.” I'm going to end up with something [disease]. I decided I was going to face the sexual abuse. How many years was that after you left the church and started your gay life? About 8 years. I felt doomed, confined to a space I didn't want. Then I figured, OK, it's time to touch the sexual abuse. I found a counselor in Dallas and decided to go back to the church. Hold up a minute: During that gay time in your life, were you telling friends about the sexual abuse, or talking about it anywhere outside a clinical setting? Oh, I did. I learned this in hindsight, that most people when they're dealing with this will reach out tentatively to others, but they're trying to explain the incomprehensible. If friends don't respond well, they just go back in. I was always making forays with friends. To be fair to them, they had no concept. They hadn't gone through similar experiences. Did you tell your friends that your problems with relationships were tied to childhood sexual abuse? Most of them. They had no comprehension. I remember going to couple toward the end of that period, saying “I think I'm addicted, I think I have a problem.” They said, “You don't have a problem.” But it was stuff I didn't want. I said, “You don't realize this is anonymous, there's no caring, I can't stop but I want to.” And that happened every time. So if you had sex with someone you had no emotional attachment to it wasn't as terrifying? Right, because I was in control more. I could control it. So emotional attachment made you feel out of control and that triggered terror? Yes. It prevented me from trust. If I don't know you, it's just physical. If we're in a relationship, you can exert control. It made me feel like I was a kid.  I find it very interesting that after 10 years of patterning, I understand my pattern. It was almost like every sexual experience I had, I was trying to recreate it with a different outcome. I had stuff going on in my head I didn't understand. Sorry, I got us sidetracked. You were talking about being 8 years in to your gay life, feeling doomed, and going back to the church.  I started sex abuse counseling. I fell over. Like most victims when they start sexual abuse counseling, and start acknowledging and admitting it, life becomes unmanageable. What do you mean? You lost your job, you became homeless, what? By the grace of God I didn't lose my job but I should have. I had frequent emotional outbursts. Anger. Oh, the anger. Fury. Rage. Anger is not a deep enough word.  The first part of recovery is really tough because you recognize the imaginary picture of your family you had in your head, that not only is it not true now, that wasn't the family it really was then. So you feel betrayed again. Finding an incest support group, they got that (reporter's note: that link does not contain a men's incest survivors group in Utah; if you know of one, please call me 801-413-0952).An incest recovery group has nothing to do with orientation. There are straight and gay men in there talking about how sex abuse affected them, all working together on how to overcome the effects. Was this a gay-affirmative setting? It was. Non-religious, part of a United Way agency. Then through that I started developing debates about my anger and feelings toward God. One, as a child, I prayed to be released from not only my same-sex attraction but my horrible family: God didn't do anything. The church, I turned them for answers, I got judgment. I was hoping from the training I could learn what happened or how to deal with it. I learned then that my parents knew about the abuse and didn't do anything about it. That rocked my world. They knew it happened but they kept it private? They didn't know how to deal with it. Answers are a lot easier to find now. The thinking back then was just treat them nice and they'll get over it. Children are resilient. After dealing with my anger I started realizing maybe, just maybe, because of my abuse issues I hadn't given the church a fair shake. I really like the community in the church. I really like the doctrine in the church. So I thought, “I'm going to give them another try.” That was about 2000-2001. Some people think that if it's said at General Conference, then it's doctrine. I learned the hard way that that ain't true. The only book I had to deal with my homosexuality was “Miracle of Forgiveness,” by Spencer W. Kimball(1969)

and “To the One” (1978) by Boyd K. Packer. They're awful resources, but if you don't understand what's going on... But I figured, maybe I misunderstood them. I was happy about being in the church again, the camaraderie and everything, and I started really looking at some of the most painful things in my past. I kept thinking for a couple years, “Maybe it was me. Maybe I'm so hurt and jaded by the negative experiences in my past that I can't see things objectively.” I gave them a good fair shake and I've come to a whole different understanding now. They were very hurtful, very damaging to me. That's when I learned to draw that line about doctrine. It's not black and white. Many people see the world as black and white. I like the doctrine of the gospel, I like the doctrine that children who die before the age of accountability are saved automatically. I like the idea of spiritual progression, that it's not a black and white line in heaven. Like you're 49.9 percent good, so you go to hell, but you're 50 percent good so you go to heaven—the Mormon graduation makes sense to me. So the doctrine itself I don't have a problem with. You have anger toward the church though, so is it that you blame only individuals and not the church itself, or not church “doctrine”? I used to think it was doctrine. “Well a church leader said it, it must be doctrine.” Well then, what about other things like blacks in the priesthood, or polygamy, where church leaders say different things? It was just recognizing that they're entitled to their opinions too, but it would be nice if they said they were opinions. So you believe the harm came from individuals—church leaders—misinterpreting the word of God? Right. Originally it was “God is hurting me, his church is hurting me.” Then I learned to to draw the line. No, it's individuals that are hurting me. That allowed me the opportunity to have a better relationship with God. I was mad with Him more than I was mad at anybody else. I think I just made a change, not seeing things so black and white. Did you ever think there was no God? I've always believed there is a god. Always believed in Him. I questioned. I worked it over in my head many, many times and was journaling like crazy, but I always came to the same conclusion. Even if I think He's mad at me, I look around and all these horrible things are happening to me, I was still a believer. That was a conclusion I couldn't get around. I think there is an external higher power. Talk about the end of the 10 years, from the end of your gay lifestyle to a new lifestyle. Tell me about saying good-bye to friends.  That was tough. It wasn't all at once. I'm not one of those people who believes you need to abandon all friendships when you change your lifestyle. But I did realize that over the course of years, our shared interest had changed. I wasn't interested in, for example, going out to the bar scene. This is in your 30s- You grew up. Yeah. I grew up and grew apart. Our interests just changed. And especially because of the headiness of all that incest recovery crap I was going through. And they could not relate, honestly they couldn't. I got to the point where I was putting so much emotional energy into recovery that I became a hermit for awhile. They were not understanding about that? “Why don't you return my calls?” Were you honest with them, did you say you were having a hard time with the recovery? They couldn't understand. They wanted to, but they couldn't. “Why couldn't you pick up the phone and call?” And I'm hurting. They didn't understand when I said, “I can't talk to anybody. It's not you. It's me and dog tonight, that's it.” So a lot of your friendships sloughed off because of that? Yes, a lot of the gay friendships. But after two years you still had a couple? Most of them. It's interesting, people knew I was going back to the Mormon church and they knew the church was against homosexuality. None of them were hateful or judgmental. They were like, "whatever you want to do, we are your friends." Good people. Tell me about the first time you went back to church? Well, the walls didn't fall down. Um, very alone, very scary. And very afraid to go back and just be in denial and pretend nothing had happened. I was very afraid of not honoring my pain. I was so angry. “I needed you and you weren't there for me.” I was raised in the church. The local bishop said he received revelation. Where was the revelation that I was being abused? I see it differently now than I saw it then. Did you actually have that conversation with someone in the church once you went back, or were these just your thoughts? I had these conversations with many bishops. That was sort of like at BYU. I could see they cared, but they just didn't understand. Good people. They never did anything for me. When it comes to emotional trauma and wounds, they don't know how to handle things. So you go back to church... don't say it was a single's ward. It was a single's ward. That's a different story all by itself. (lots of laughter) Sorry, after 10 years as a homo— —I go to a singles ward.  (more laughter) I mean no disrespect. It's just an interesting choice. I ended up realizing that I couldn't do it. I didn't have a lot in common with 18 year olds. I went for six months. (more laughter) When did you decide you were going to work on your same-sex attraction, was it before you decided to go to church or after? What's interesting is the decision I made was not to work on it, but to not work on it. You were going to go back and be a gay Mormon? No. When I was in the gay lifestyle, I was working very, very hard trying to understand my homosexual feelings. The thought in the back of my head was, maybe there is something I can change, because my behavior was getting worse. I decided that in 2000-2001 that I was not going to worry about same sex attraction anymore. I was not sexual first for 90 days. In the first year, I felt like I was just figuring out what was going on in my life. What's interesting, is I have not focused on it since. It just is. Are you chaste? Yes. When did you decide you would be chaste? That was gradual. That took me three or four years to bring down the anger and control and truly understand what was going on with the dissociation. Reading every book known to man on incest recovery for men. Well, silly me, here I am thinking that you came all the way from Dallas for this conference, I presumed this must be a very big thing for you, this changing your same-sex attraction. What's it like being chaste? It's difficult. Being chaste to me is an easier lifestyle that is more psychologically healthy than what I was doing, acting out all through sex. I've also been discovering more about about myself. My sexual abuse experiences were not “negative” as a child; there was no violence. In fact, as a 5-year-old kid, it seemed like caring, normal, getting acceptance, getting attention. Everything else outside the sexual abuse was violent and angry. So in my mind, I paired healthy relationships with men which I wanted all along. Have I gotten better? After $50,000 in therapy, I've realized that I want to be with men but that doesn't mean I want to have sex with them. Generally speaking, yes, but in your particular case it does, doesn't it? No. To me that is a sexual thing. I don't want to have sex. I want to be intimate. Was I an innate homosexual from birth? I can't answer that. Is it still terrifying when you act on your attractions? The thing is, I don't have sexual attraction toward men. I want to get what I really want from men: closeness. When I'm longing for men, I'm not thinking of genitals. I'm longing for nurturing and acceptance, affection. I'm not your bishop, so tell me honestly. Do you masturbate now? Rarely. Do you get that same terrifying feeling? Yes. So there's this conflict in you, you get the urge to self-gratify, but when you do, you're reinforced with negative feelings. Flashback memories. I don't know what my sexuality is. In my life, what I'm striving for right now is neutral sexuality, to give my psyche and emotions and therapy and everything—to at least allow a possibility that there could be a chance of mutual relationships, not where one person is dominating. Let me clarify: you said you had same-sex attraction from your earliest memory, which must predate the sexual abuse. No, my earliest memories are the abuse. So do you believe your same-sex attraction was caused by it? I don't know the answer to that. I struggle with that a lot. My conclusion is that I just don't know and won't ever know. Is it important to you for you to know? No. At this point, if I can survive all the damage done from the sexual abuse, I will have a much clearer mind to determine, OK, do I want to live a homosexual or a heterosexual lifestyle, versus just a reaction to the abuse. Previously I couldn't make informed decisions because I was so affected by the abuse. My goal is to get to a point where I can make a healthy choice to decide what the relationships do I want. The LDS Church considers masturbation to be “self-abuse.” Is that LDS doctrine to your thinking and are you hoping you'll be able to masturbate peacefully some day? That is an eventual behavior outcome I would like to see. Looking at it right now, when it happens, it still incites terror. I want the outcome to be that when I present sexual feelings, I choose how to express them. Right time, right place, right person. Rather than letting my body do things that I hardly even remember once it's over. I want sex to be a real experience. What does that means to me? I don't know yet. Does Evergreen help you with that? The reason I come to Evergreen is emotional support. I don't believe everything they say. One of the things I find most damaging in some of the books for ex-gays are when people give their opinions and they don't clarify their terms. For example, like in an Evergreen workshop, we talked about "change." They kept saying “everyone can change.” Automatically, people who are struggling with change go “What's wrong with me? Why can't I become a flaming heterosexual?” That's what I used to think when I read that growing up. It's imperative to understand “change” and what that really means. Have I changed? Oh yeah, since going to therapy, I'm a much healthier person. I'm not as healthy as I want to be, but my compulsive stuff is way down. I look back over the last eight years, life is much better than it was before. It's still not where I want it to be but I can see gradual progress. Am I a heterosexual? Is that my goal? My goal is help. Whatever that looks like, I'll know it when I get there. And for now, the LDS Church is helping you with that? You still go to church? No. Oh, you're back not going to church. You go to Evergreen but you don't go to church?! I haven't been to church in about two years. So tell me why you don't go to church now. The biggest issue I've been working on the last few years is my anger toward God and anger towards church. I couldn't go to LDS church and not blurt out. It's the bullshit factor. When I'm hearing stuff that sounds like Polyanna, someone might be doing their best, but I've had the experience that makes me realize God does not always protect us. When I hear that, I want to scream bullshit.

2009 Evergreen International's Queer Science Last weekend's Evergreen attendees seek to balance sexuality, religion & psychology. By Jesse Fruhwirth Salt Lake City weekly Utah author and social worker Kim Nordyke Mack joked that her maiden name doomed her to a lifelong struggle with same-sex attraction, a challenge made more difficult because of her Mormon faith. To deal with that ongoing battle, she writes the “How I Deal” blog, which is about “a faithful LDS woman’s experience in dealing with being gay and remaining true to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” She had three children with her previous husband, but she now lives a celibate life, which keeps her in good graces with her church. She also considers her own story, and many others like hers, as proof that therapies to change a person’s sexual orientation can have some benefit. That is counter to a study released in August by the American Psychological Association, which drew the conclusion that such therapies are “unlikely to be successful and involve some risk of harm.” “Even if all of the studies said after 10 years that I would be miserable, I would still do it, because my experience tells me I won’t [be miserable],” she says. Nordkye Mack was one of several long-term sexual-repression role models at the Evergreen International conference held Sept. 18-19 at the Joseph Smith Memorial Building in Salt Lake City. Evergreen, a nonprofit that offers members of the LDS Church help and support in repressing or “diminishing” homosexuality, celebrates its 20th anniversary this year. The conference attracted about 400 people, most of whom were searching for a remedy to same-sex attraction either for a child, a spouse, or for themselves. Others, like Nordkye Mack, show anecdotally that some homosexuals’ behaviors can change, even if, as in Nordyke Mack´s case, same-sex attraction is still present and she has no sexual interest in men. Taking place at the same time was a conference for members of Affirmation, a group of gay and lesbian Mormons that believes homosexuality is a special gift from God. Among that group are former Evergreen clients, some of whom say their Evergreen treatment included electro-shock aversion therapy and being told to marry as a means of avoiding homosexual behavior. Despite the close, albeit unofficial, ties to the LDS Church, not all the attendees at Evergreen follow LDS doctrine so piously or dismiss the APA’s conclusion. Eric, a 41-year-old Dallas business professor and returned LDS missionary, repressed his homosexuality through much of college with the help of therapists. He accepted himself as a gay man shortly after realizing during his senior year at Brigham Young University that church leaders “don’t have a clue” about sexual health. For years, he and his LDS therapists fixated on his same-sex attraction while post-traumatic stress disorder related to being molested as a small child by an adult neighbor and his older brother festered in his mind, untreated and unaddressed. “At BYU, being told to masturbate to pictures of Madonna as a therapy for homosexuality—that did harm. That did real harm,” Eric said to a roomful of attendees at the Evergreen conference. The attendees erupted in laughter, but Eric wasn’t joking. When the Material Girl and other methods of changing his sexual orientation failed, he said later, he felt inadequate and personally responsible. While he thought his homosexuality explained his difficulty with relationships and, later, sex addiction, he believes now those problems are the result of his childhood trauma. Eric doesn’t go to church now, and believes same-sex attraction is not a sin in the eyes of God, only church leaders. Nevertheless, he still appreciates Evergreen for the camaraderie it provides with those who understand his complex sexual baggage—and LDS values. “The reason I come to Evergreen is emotional support. I don’t believe everything they say,” he says. Eric didn’t want to publicly reveal his brother as a sex crime perpetrator, so he asked that City Weekly identify him by first name only. Even some Mormon mental-health professionals seem out of step with LDS Church leaders like Elder Bruce Haffen, who used the word “evil” twice in his speech about homosexuality. Social worker Christy Cox, of the LDS Addiction Resource Center for Healing (ARCH) in Sandy, co-presented a session with Nordkye Mack entitled “Growing a New Norm for Moms and Daughters.” Cox later joked that she might get a “talking to” by her LDS bishop for things she said. She revealed that she not only accepts and loves her lesbian daughter—but also appreciates her daughter’s partner. “This partner my daughter has is saving my daughter’s life,” Cox said during her session, crediting the woman with reducing her daughter’s previously dangerous drinking habit. Cox supports Evergreen’s work for individuals who want it, but that category does not include her daughter. One gay expert on reorientation therapy, Salt Lake City psychologist Lee Beckstead, who also served a Mormon mission, may be too far off the straight and narrow to get an invite to speak at Evergreen. Set to task by the APA in 2007, Beckstead and five other psychologists from throughout the country reviewed 83 studies of various reorientation therapies. The psychologists’ 130-page report (pdf) informed the APA’s stance that the reorientation therapies are a bad idea. “Ex-ex-gay groups have felt violated, used, abused, and are fighting back,” Beckstead says. “They were the reason for the task force.” Multiple speakers at the conference referenced the APA’s findings, usually denouncing and dismissing them as Evergreen board chairman Larry Richman did. He said the APA task force members were “gay or gay activists” and “no one represented people who have changed their sexual orientation.” The sexual-orientation-change community has its own studies that show effectiveness and safety, which the APA reviewed, but they were mostly rejected on scientific grounds, such as statistical violations that exaggerated results, Beckstead said. In its August report, the APA repeated its stance that clinical literature proves homosexuality is normal and healthy. Thus, any emotional or physical price patients may pay to repress their homosexuality is probably too high, even for clients who requested it. Eric, the Dallas business professor, sought answers from the LDS therapists specifically for his same-sex attraction, because he had faith that he could change and that they could help him. His efforts to change his sexual orientation, however, were “very hurtful and damaging to me.”

2009 Judy Shepard: The Meaning of Matthew SATURDAY 9.26 By Brandon Burt Salt Lake

Brandon Burt

City Weekly In October 1998, the LGBT community was hit hard by news that a gay, 21-year-old University of Wyoming student had been tied to a fence, severely beaten and left for dead. Coming as it did during a heated debate in the U.S. Senate over the Hate Crimes Prevention Act—which the late Sen. Ted Kennedy, D-Mass., among others, fought for until his dying day— the murder of Matthew Shepard became a rallying point for the measure’s proponents and a hot topic for the media. Today, Shepard’s murder remains a potent symbol: for gay folks, it’s a personal symbol of the brutality and intolerance we have all experienced; for hate-crimes activists, it’s a political symbol of the cause. A perennial House bill aiming to extend federal hate-crimes protections to gays and lesbians, among other often-targeted groups, is commonly known as the Matthew

Judy Shepard

Shepard Act. I’ll admit it: During all the personal navel gazing and activist politicking of the intervening 11 years, I forgot that Shepard was not just a symbol. He was a human being. And that is the revelation of the memoir by his mother, Judy. Judy offers a taut report of events following her son’s murder—the emotionally shocked overseas journey to his bedside, the ensuing media frenzy and solemn activist vigils, the low antics of defense attorneys during the murder trial— interspersed with an achingly intimate portrait of her relationship with Matthew. In particular, Judy’s plain, straight forward account of how she came to grips with her son’s sexual orientation is heartbreakingly universal.  Judy Shepard: The Meaning of Matthew @ Main Library Auditorium, 210 E. 400 South, 801-524-8200, Saturday, Sept. 26, 7 p.m.

2010 Salt Lake Tribune  editorial ‘Don’t ask, don’t tell’ It is a disgrace that as the United States continues to prosecute two overseas wars, it also will continue to require gay and lesbian members of the military to deny who they are in order to fight and perhaps die for their country. But thanks to Republicans and a couple of Democrats in the U.S. Senate, that disgrace will not change, at least for now. The Senate failed this week to break a Republican-led blockade of a bill that would have allowed the president and defense officials to call a halt to the noxious “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy that has been law since 1993. The repeal of that policy was attached to a much larger defense authorization bill. Both of Utah’s senators, Orrin Hatch and Bob Bennett, voted to keep the bill from coming up for final consideration. “Don’t ask, don’t tell” essentially prevents gay and lesbian members of the military from being honest about their sexual orientation. Republicans charge that Democrats were pandering for gay and lesbian votes during an election year, and that Majority Leader Harry Reid set unfair ground rules for debating the bill by not allowing Republicans to offer amendments. There is some truth in those charges, although there has been equal-opportunity pandering by both political parties. The larger truth is that it is discriminatory and unfair to require homosexuals to lie about or deny their sexual orientation as a condition of serving in the military. The policy denies a certain class of people equal treatment under the law, to say nothing of freedom of expression. The argument that repealing “don’t ask, don’t tell” will undermine morale and discipline is difficult to believe. Sure, there are bigots in the military, just as there are elsewhere in society, but they should not be allowed to set our moral standards. The same argument was made about black soldiers before the military was integrated by President Harry Truman, yet few Americans would stand for such bigoted thinking today. Nevertheless, the Republicans want to wait for a report on the issue, which is due Dec. 1, before taking a vote. It is profoundly ironic that the United States continues to cling to this repressive policy in its armed forces at the same time that those same forces are fighting to protect governments in Asia that are ostensibly dedicated to broader constitutional protections for basic human rights. “Don’t ask, don’t tell” is an anachronism of a less tolerant time. Someday, history will view it in that light. It is a pity that light has not yet dawned.

2017  Affirmation, the gay Mormon support group, has seen a ‘sea change’ in its 40 years SLTRIBUNE Jennifer Dobner, Peggy Fletcher Stack Affirmation, a support group for gay Mormons, was born in 1977, at a time when admission of same-sex attraction among the LDS faithful was a matter of inner turmoil, deep shame and religious rejection — even a cause for suicide. At the time, the LDS Church viewed their sexuality as perverse and sinful, and their love as unholy. Any acceptance of gays had to be whispered. Now, 40 years later, hundreds in the church’s LGBTQ community, their families and friends, are celebrating Affirmation’s anniversary openly and with gusto at a three-day conference at the Utah Valley Convention Center in Provo — many embracing their gayness and their Mormonness. The group has a full-time paid executive director, John Gustav-Wrathall, members in more than a dozen countries and, by the end of 2017, will have hosted 19 events including regional conferences and this annual national gathering. At this meeting, which began Friday, there were sessions for youths, mothers, fathers, allies, advocates, people of color, spouses and LDS lay leaders. Attendees could find presentations that best suit their situations, whether active Mormons, post-Mormons, never Mormons, Christian, spiritual but not religious, secular or atheist. On Sunday, the conference’s final day, participants can join a choir, practice yoga or attend a spiritual devotional. “One of the most urgent needs for LGBTQ Mormons is making sense of contradictions between their religious upbringing or their faith as Mormons and their lived experience as LGBTQ individuals,” Affirmation President Sara Jade Woodhouse says in a news release. “Affirmation meets both those needs through a vibrant community where individuals can connect, compare notes, and find support in whichever path of reconciliation and healing they choose.” The group has seen a “massive sea change,” Gustav-Wrathall says, in the relationship between The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and its gay members. “Ten years ago, the topic of the LGBTQ experience in Mormonism was simply a taboo,” he says. “Now there’s a flood of discussion that is happening every day.” Once it was “almost unheard of for an LGBT person to come out over the pulpit,” he says. “Now that happens with some frequency.” Affirmation began as a simple effort by activists at Brigham Young University: Assure gay Mormons they were loved and not alone, while striving to stop them from killing themselves. Before long, chapters emerged in Salt Lake City, Denver, Los Angeles and ultimately across the country. Though many loved their faith, there simply was no way for them to remain an active member in the Utah-based church. “You were either ex-gay and Mormon or ex-Mormon and gay,” says Gustav-Wrathall. “There was no happy middle space.” Even when parents were accepting of their gay children, he says, “it was rare for them to become public advocates.” Gustav-Wrathall’s own devout LDS mom and dad struggled with how to balance parental love with church standards, which, at the time, said even being gay was a sin. “I came from a generation where you just expected that when you came out to your parent, this was a crisis for them,” he recalls, “and often it meant some intense alienation at least for a time.” More than two decades ago, Gustav-Wrathall found a permanent same-sex partner, whom he was able to marry legally in 2008. The couple have three foster sons together. “After our wedding, [my father] pulled me aside and said, ’[LDS leaders] don’t know what they are doing,” the Affirmation leader recalls. Adding that his father said “They don’t understand.” The executive director was excommunicated from the church, but maintains his Mormon belief and has been attending his LDS congregation in Minneapolis since 2005. Today’s LDS Church says being gay is not a sin, though acting on it is. It continues to oppose gay marriage, though it did support Salt Lake City’s and Utah’s anti-discrimination measures. It also recently endorsed the LoveLoud concert in Orem, whose mission was to raise money to prevent gay suicides. Ironically, two of the church’s most visible actions — supporting California’s Proposition 8, which defined marriage as only between a man and a woman in 2008 and, in 2015, saying that same-sex Mormon couples are “apostates” and generally barring their offspring from Mormon rituals until they turn 18 — propelled the nascent LDS gay rights movements forward. Both greatly enlarged the number of Affirmation participants, he says, but also stretched its resources to meet the needs of an ever-growing population. In 2013, the support group nearly filed for bankruptcy. That was a wake-up call, Gustav-Wrathall says, forcing the group’s leaders to reach out to a wider spectrum of believers. “We couldn’t be the angry ex-Mormon organization any more,” he says. “We needed to be a resource for those who are gay and Mormon, as well as those who have left the church.” To that end, Affirmation officials have met regularly in the past few years with LDS leaders at church headquarters in Salt Lake City. Both greatly enlarged the number of Affirmation participants, he says, but also stretched its resources to meet the needs of an ever-growing population. The bridge-building has not been without challenges and critics.  “Some of the old-timers you talk to won’t give us a good report,” Gustav-Wrathall said. “Some are pretty mad about the turn Affirmation took toward greater engagement with the church.” The director defends the move. “In my experience, the No. 1 factor in positive change around these issues is direct personal engagement with LGBT people,” he says. “We are trying to be nice to each other and trying to be civil and be in the same space at the same time, without the pressure of having a particular agenda.” The gays tell their stories and church officials listen, he says, “then they tell us their stories and we listen.” Unlike the silence and denial of the past, Gustav-Wrathall says, “now we can talk.”