I know, you say you love us. But you cannot accept sin. I get it, I do. But what you don’t seem to get is that my “sin” is me. You may think I’ll be “fixed” in heaven and I’ll be changed in the twinkling of an eye into something that resembles your version of a celestial being, but it wouldn’t be me. I’d only be a shadow of my former self trapped inside an artificial avatar, and that sounds like hell to me.
I know, you say you love us. You probably think
I’m dramatic because you have made it clear we are welcome, pending one small
contingency: celibacy or heteronormativity. But what you don’t understand is
bisexuality isn’t just my sexual orientation. It’s my world view. It’s my
reality. It’s how I love. It’s how I live. It’s who I am. No matter whom I marry,
whom I sleep with or whatever sexual acts I engage in it will not cure me. And
I like me. So when I conform to your request of celibacy, monogamy, or
heteronormativity, it’s a charade—nothing more than a costume donned to
participate in your play.
I know, you say you love us. You might assume
this isn’t my problem because I’m bi. It’s true I have the privilege of
blending into a heteronormative society, but don’t you think for one second
that when an LGBT person kills themselves I don’t have to confront the demons
in my head. Don’t you think for one second that I haven’t known isolation.
Don’t you think for one second that when you deny the children of practicing
homosexuals the waters of baptism that I don’t look at the faces of my three
children knowing that the only reason they are exempt from your policy is
because I married a cisgender man. Don’t you think for one second I don’t live
in fear of being the victim of sexual violence or a hate crime. Don’t you think
for one second that I don’t suffer with them, cry with them, and march with
them. I am them and I am also you.
I know, you say you love us. You look at my
flawless heterosexual family and how could you not love us? We fit so perfectly
on the cover of the monthly Ensign. So why does it have to be different if the
person by my side is my wife? I understand, as a woman, no amount of celibacy
could ever qualify me for the priesthood. Where would a family be without a
patriarch?
I know, you say you love us. So why does your
love hurt me? I wish you wouldn’t say “I love you” like a caveat to justify
your behavior. You say there is room for us in the family, but what does being
in a family look like to you? Does it mean excluding us from eternal
connections? Or molding ourselves into a caricature that fits your ideas of
holy until we are no longer recognizable? If there is anything I learned from
my Mormon heritage it is the importance of family. Family means we atone with
one another.
I know, you say you love us. So love us—wholly, completely, immersively—love us.
I know, you say you love us. So love us—wholly, completely, immersively—love us.
