Tuesday, December 31, 2013

This Day In Gay Utah History December 31st

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
Jose Sarria aka Widow Norton
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
Nicole the Great
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.

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.  The Cockettes were a psychedelic theater troupe founded by Hibiscus (George Harris) in the fall of 1969. The troupe was formed out of a group of hippies, men and women, that were living together communally in Haight-Ashbury. Hibiscus came to live with them because of their preference to dressing outrageously and proposed the idea of putting their lifestyle on the stage. Their brand of theater was influenced by The Living Theater, John Vaccaro's Play House of the Ridiculous, the films of Jack Smith and the LSD ethos of Ken Kesey's Merry Pranksters. The troupe performed all original material doing mostly musicals with original songs. The first year they parodied American musicals and sang show tunes (or original musical comedies in the same vein). They gained an underground cult following that led to mainstream exposure.

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
Pam Parson
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

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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
David Nelson
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)

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
Steven Sternfeld
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

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
Laura Gray
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
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
Jackie Biskupski
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."

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
Leraine Hortsmansoff
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
Megan Peters
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
Kathryn Warner
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

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
Amy Ruttinger
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."

Richard Teerlink
2000 Salt Lake Tribune Page: A15 Divided Lives Find Healing After a half-century of
Paul Trane
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

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.

2013 Utah weighs impact of ruling allowing gay marriage By JOHN M. GLIONNA SALT LAKE CITY — Wade Hunt could see change looming on the horizon, a stubborn movement to legalize gay marriage that crept toward Utah's Mormon faithful state by state, one same-sex wedding at a time. But he never dreamed it would reach here. What works in California, Massachusetts, Minnesota and 15 other states would never fly in the traditional Beehive State, he believed. This is conservative country, where the locally-based Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has made clear that a marriage is a bond between a man and a women. "When it came to gays, my attitude was 'I respect you, you respect me,'" he said. "We weren't looking for a big fight." Now a federal judge has reminded residents that while many might consider themselves in a religious land apart, some beg to differ. This month, U.S. District Judge Robert Shelby struck down the state's 2004 constitutional amendment limiting marriage to opposite-sex couples, ruling that the move violated the U.S. Constitution's guarantee of equal protection under the law. While the reaction of the LDS church has been largely low-key, many of Utah's 2 million Mormons were grasping to absorb what the ruling meant — and how to possibly get it repealed — as same-sex couples rushed to tie the knot. In the week after Shelby's Dec. 20 ruling, gay and lesbian applicants made up nearly 75% of the state's 1,225 marriage licenses issued. The total number shattered Utah's record for marriage licenses issued in a single week. For Hunt, 44, a bellhop at a swank downtown hotel a few blocks from the LDS church's sacred Temple Square, the days have been spent discussing the ruling's impact with family and fellow Mormons. "Is it the end of the world? No," he said, shivering in the 15-degree cold. "In the end, we have a message to the gay and lesbian people who live among us — we don't hate you, it's nothing like that. But we believe what we believe. And our conviction is strong."

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.

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