Showing posts with label Gay Fatherhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gay Fatherhood. Show all posts

Monday, December 22, 2014

My Daughter's 6th Grade Dance


I had an opportunity this past Friday that I'm glad I didn't pass up. My daughter's teacher sent a general invitation to dads to come to the 6th-grade dance. I immediately accepted. Mind you, that meant going back into the environment where I used to live. I fully expected to see former ward members, etc. And I'm gay. In Bountiful. But, I've found that each time I or both Mark and me have gone to programs at the Quads' elementary school, things get easier.

As it turned out, there weren't very many dads there. In fact, I think I counted three others besides myself. I was easily the oldest. But I'm young at heart. I had a lot of fun.

Esther trying to teach me moves

The kids had been learning dances for weeks. The two-step, the foxtrot, the waltz and one other, the name of which I have forgotten. Plus there were two different line dances. I had never danced to the foxtrot. Esther, my daughter, very patiently taught me the steps. I was looking down a lot.


I had forgotten how much fun it is to dance. In the entire time I was previously married, I think my ex-wife and I danced less than a dozen times. It's not that we didn't like to dance; we did. But we were orthodox Mormons, and there just aren't that many opportunities for a married orthodox Mormon to dance, since bars and clubs are strictly off-limits, and there are only so many wedding receptions with dancing.

Mark also likes to dance, but the only times we've had an opportunity to dance have been our wedding (commitment ceremony) and Mark's niece's wedding this past summer. It was so much fun, and it was particularly nice to be able to dance with the person you're in love with.


But back to Esther's dance. I got to have two dances with her, but every other place on her dance card was spoken for. "Sorry I could only give you two dances, Dad," she said. "But there were a lot of boys that wanted to dance with me." Now, that might sound like a very snobby thing to say if we were speaking of someone else. But Esther is a tomboy, not a frilly girl. She gets told all the time that she's beautiful, and it doesn't phase her one bit. She's just not interested.

She was serious about her dances. Most of the other kids seemed to be as well. They were executing the moves they had been taught and that was that. But when it came for the two line dances, I had to smile. That's when they all really got into it. It was exuberant, and I was reminded for a few moments of what it felt like to be in sixth grade. It was a good feeling.


Esther's teacher had hoped more dads could come because there were more girls (considerably more) than boys. She began assigning girls to ask me to dance, which they very politely did. One even came up and asked without being told by her teacher. The girls were all so sweet. Ahh, sixth grade.

It was obvious that I had enjoyed myself, so the teacher asked if I'd be willing to come back for the Valentine's Day dance. "Sure!," I replied. Then I leaned over closer to her and said, "Could my husband come, too, since he loves to dance? Or would that be too 'weird'? "It's fine with me!," she replied. "It's totally fine with me."

I don't think, however, that he and I should try to dance with each other at the Valentine's Day dance. We probably won't. But ....

Wednesday, December 3, 2014

Our Teenage Son's First Blog Post - About His Gay Dads and Depression


Our soon-to-be sixteen year-old son wrote and published his maiden blog post today. With his permission, I am sharing a link to the post. He writes about coming to terms with his dad's sexuality, Mark, Mark's cancer and the depression that he struggles with. It is well worth reading. 

Here's the link.




Tuesday, June 17, 2014

My Teenage Son's Father's Day Tribute


Mark and I received quite a surprise Sunday when our 15-year-old son posted a tribute to us on Instagram. With his permission, I am publishing screen shots of this tribute here on my blog. Needless to say, we are very proud of Nathan.






Sunday, June 15, 2014

Vacation: Bryce Canyon and the Landscape of Cancer


Continuing the saga of our recent family vacation, last Sunday morning we set out from St. George to our next destination: Moab. Our route would take us back through part of Zion National Park, then up to Bryce Canyon National Park. It took a little longer than we had planned on, so we didn't arrive at Bryce until early afternoon. Mark was keen on us going for a short hike at Sunset Point in Bryce; the kids were not. 

We had tried to psyche them up all the way to Bryce, but to no avail. We stopped for sandwiches at a rest stop a few miles from the entrance to the park. Being a Utahn (by adoption, 18 years on), I immediately headed for the shady picnic table; but Mark pointed out that it was too cold to sit in the shade. He was right. It had been a blast furnace in St. George, but it was considerably cooler up here.

Making sandwiches near the entrance to Bryce Canyon National Park

Another family arrived at the rest stop at the same time we did. Minivan. Dad about 30, several young kids. We had a 15-passenger van. Mark's brainwave. We removed the back seat in order to stow gear, and there were three bench seats to be shared among four children. 

Not for the first time, we sensed the curiosity and a degree of animosity towards us as a gay couple. I mean, we were a bit of an anomaly: four kids, two dads, two *mature* dads. The image of "this doesn't compute" was noticed on more than a few places during our trip - at poolside in St. George, in Zion, and now at a remote rest stop in south-central Utah. And there would be more. I just looked upon it as an opportunity to expose and educate and moved on.

We entered Bryce Canyon Park and somehow missed the turnoff for Sunset Point. We found it on the way back, but not before we had driven all the way to the end of the road, at Rainbow Point. Mark parked the van and asked who wanted to come with him to the lookout point. The girls went with him, the boys didn't; they couldn't be bothered. "Boring." Sigh. 

Mark came back to the van some minutes later with a story. He was taking pictures. Esther and Annie were standing nearby. Some well-meaning woman asked if Mark would like her to take a picture of him with "his children." "Oh," Mark replied, "these aren't my children. I've never seen them before." "Mark!," Annie (our seven-year-old) chimed in, "you're my Daaaad!" (How cool is that?)


We then drove back down the road toward Sunset Point and pulled into the parking area. The kids were not enthused about going for a "hike." (Apparently, walking anything further than a few feet constituted a "hike" in their eyes.) We got out of the van and walked toward the rim. Along the way, Levi - our nine-year-old - explained to me that he didn't like the outdoors and wasn't an "outdoors person."

How does a parent respond to that?? In so many ways, Levi reminds me of me as a child his age. But for the fact that my mother forced all us kids out of the house at every available opportunity, I would have happily spent my time inside, reading books. No video games in those days. Just books. But I would have been happy. Now, however, I wished Levi would open himself up a bit more to life. (He would "redeem" himself later on the trip.)

Mark had by this time capitulated on the short hike he had envisioned and was willing to settle for a family picture at the rim. After all, we had at least a four-hour drive ahead of us to get to Moab, so time constraints also militated against a hike. But we couldn't even get the kids to look happy for the picture, as this photo clearly shows:


On the way back to the van, I decided that it was a time for a "come to Jesus" meeting. We gathered the children at the edge of the parking lot, and I proceeded to give them a talking-to. I pointed out that Mark and I had spent considerable time, effort and expense on this trip, and we were sick and tired of them constantly complaining about everything. We'd had enough. They seemed to get the message.

Once in the van, however, I drove the point home even further. "Mark," I told the children, "might not feel well enough to take a trip next year. We must never forget that Mark has cancer. We need to appreciate our time now and to take advantage of the opportunity we now have to spend quality time together."

This sobered them. It was the first time in quite awhile that we had mentioned Mark's cancer, and the effect was marked. It was, in a sense, the turning point of our trip. The children were silent for several hours as we drove on to Moab. We had gotten through to them. And their behavior on rest of the trip would be different. Well ... at least some of the time.

Thursday, March 13, 2014

Family: It Gets Better


This past weekend, I made a quick trip to Vancouver to visit my daughter Hannah, her husband Cary and their little girl, Hazel. Mark was supposed to accompany me, but he had to stay in Salt Lake for a cancer treatment.

I wrote about recent developments in Mark's cancer 10 days ago. A decision was made shortly thereafter to start Mark on a new therapy that, due to timing considerations, would have to start immediately. It would consist of three treatments, spaced two weeks apart, each treatment consisting of two stages. Mark's first stage of the first treatment was scheduled for last Friday and the second stage was scheduled for the following Monday. We had already booked our flights to Vancouver, so a decision was made that I would go alone, then come back a day earlier than planned so that I could be there for Mark's treatment on Monday. I am happy to say that the procedure went very well with no side effects for Mark.


So, my time with my daughter and her family was short, but oh so sweet. I've thought all week about doing a post about my visit. Then, today, I reread something I had written in my journal during the middle of my divorce. It was one of the low points, but so, so illustrative of that whole process - divorce, me coming out, the effects on our family, etc. 

My lawyer and I were waiting for the second and final mediation in the divorce which resulted in a final agreement between my ex-wife and me and, in due course, the issuance of a divorce decree. I saw my ex-wife and her attorney come in and sit in the opposite corner of the large lobby. After a few minutes, they walked over toward us. 

I had previously expressed to my ex-wife that I thought the personal animus that her homophobic attorney (whom I had dubbed "Mr. Toad," in lieu of another four-letter word that begins with "T" and ends in "D" and rhymes with "bird") had obviously shown toward me was doing her a disservice. So I was surprised, but not too surprised, when he walked up and said (among other things) the following: 
"I have been informed that you think I have a personal dislike of you because of your sexual orientation. That is not true. I feel the same way about you as I would if you had taken up with a woman, leaving your wife and ten children after 25 years of marriage."
Slam. Of all the things that were said to me and about me during our divorce process, that was the vilest - and the most improper, especially coming from a member of the bar. And it was a lie. I did not "leave" my marriage to "take up" with a man. I came out to my ex-wife, unexpectedly, when our marriage was on life support, and she asked for a divorce. There was no man with whom I had "taken up." 

Nevertheless that characterization was propagated in my situation, and it is also unfortunately the type of assumption to which people (especially those who are LDS) leap when they hear of a married man coming out as gay. I thought about this while running the recent series of posts concerning mixed-orientation marriages.

There were many times during those dark days when I wondered how many of my children I would lose. I knew our family would never be the same again, but I couldn't say back then what shape it would take in the future. I hoped it would get better, but I had no assurances then, other than my faith in my children.

But it did get better. Way better. And my recent trip to Vancouver brought that home to me - again. 









My wonderful son-in-law holding Hazel






















Most of the foregoing pictures (and all the good ones) were taken by Hannah. It's hard for me to express what I felt as I saw them for the first time and what I have continued to feel as I look at them. They captured so much love - in Hannah, in Hazel, in Cary and in me. And, for me ... well, this is particularly difficult to express. For so much of my life, I have had a negative self-image and I believed so many things that other people told me about myself. These pictures, for me, give the lie to those things. 

My family continues to evolve as my children evolve. I am grateful for each of them. I love each of them. It got better, and it keeps getting better. I am truly a blessed man. 

Sunday, February 2, 2014

I Am: Coming Out as a Gay Father in a Mormon World


This is a retrospective post. I began the process of coming out almost 3-1/2 years ago (can it have been that long ago?). A huge part of that process involved (i) overcoming shame and internalized homophobia and (ii) discovering and/or recovering who I really was/am as a person. It also involved dealing with my relationship with the LDS Church, of which I had been an active member for over 25 years.

A Merging of Worlds

I think I navigated the initial process of coming out fairly well, all things considered – especially given the fact that I had been deeply closeted for decades - really for almost my entire life. I (re)discovered much about myself, about who I really am – though this was an on-going process. I still found myself dealing with issues relating to internalized homophobia, but I had come a long, long way from where I was before coming out.  

During those months of coming out and self-discovery, I had regular visits with my children.   Although I experienced some disorientation from time to time as I moved from my gay world to that of a “Disney Dad” (as one friend termed it), there was basically a bifurcation between the two spheres. All of this started to change when, almost simultaneously, my wife initiated divorce proceedings and I met the man who became my partner, my soon-to-be husband. 

Initially, I found myself going back into the closet, so to speak, because I didn’t want either my children or my wife to know about my blossoming relationship with my partner. I felt those same old feelings of shame, secrecy and blurring of identity.

I hated not being able to be “out” about my relationship with the man with whom I had fallen in love. I hated those old feelings of having to hide, which in turn engendered feelings of shame. On the one hand, I knew I had to be prudent and circumspect; but on the other hand I hated feeling that I had to compromise due to who I am – a gay man living in a Mormon culture and part of a Mormon family.

Over the course of the ensuing months, we worked our way through divorce proceedings and I gradually introduced my children to my partner. Gradually, both they and my ex-wife learned that I was living with my partner, and both she and the children came to know and understand the nature of our relationship. The old bifurcated world of “Disney Dad” and “out gay man” merged into one world as I established a home with my partner.  He became part of my children’s lives and they are a part of his life and of our life together.  

This merging of worlds, however, forced me to face new issues as I continued the process of coming out as a gay father. I came to some interesting realizations as I experienced the stress produced when my new reality butted up against the Mormon reality of my children.

What Gay Mormon Fathers Face

Of course, I wasn't alone in what I was experiencing. I knew of a number of men who were in the same situation as I. Though coming out at any age, particularly within the Mormon culture and construct, is difficult, the coming out process for men who were married, had children and were active in the LDS Church was and is uniquely challenging. Not only must such men come to terms with their true innate sexuality, but they must also – if they make the decision to come out, or if it is somehow made for them – go through a process of coming out as a gay father.

  • They must reconcile the “Plan of Happiness” (i.e., the Church's plan for a happy and fulfilling life, involving heterosexual marriage, children, church activity, etc.) – which they have tried to live for years or even decades – with who they really are.
  • They must find meaning in having lived what in most instances amounted (to one degree or another) to a lie – however well-intentioned – to themselves and/or to their spouse and their children. 
  • They quite often find that the belief system that framed their entire existence during their marriage - and provided a purpose to life - is no longer valid.
  • They discover that their role as a father was so tightly entwined with LDS teachings, Church activities and Church culture that, once they have either chosen or been forced to leave the Church, that role must – to one degree or another – be reinvented.
  • They find themselves ostracized not only as a gay man but also as a gay father.  They are often accused of choosing to abandon their wife and children just so they can “go out and have gay sex” or “live a gay lifestyle.”  In the process, they are frequently demonized and dehumanized, their most inner selves laid bare to assault and ridicule.
  • They are faced with helping their children cope with a situation that not only (usually) results in/contributes to divorce, but also in trying to help them get to know a man they thought they knew, but who in reality was largely a shell, a false persona, an actor on a stage who was trying as best he knew how to play his part.
  • They are faced with efforts by others to shame them, to deny or erase their existence, to cover-up who they are, to make excuses for them, and to deny access to their children. They are not supposed to exist. Their mere existence, who they are, is treated as an affront that could have deleterious results to the psyches of their children.

The Loss of the "Forms" of Mormon Fatherhood

It was during this time, while reading Eckhart Tolle’s bestseller, A New Earth, I came across some passages that I found jarring and directly applicable to this situation I have just described:
“There are many accounts of people who experienced [an] emerging new dimension of consciousness as a result of tragic loss at some point in their lives. Some lost all of their possessions, others their children or spouse, their social position, reputation, or physical abilities. In some cases, through disaster or war, they lost all of these simultaneously and found themselves with ‘nothing.’ We may call this a limit-situation. Whatever they had identified with, whatever gave them their sense of self, had been taken away.”
To paraphrase Tolle, I realized that many of us, as gay men who had been Mormon fathers, lost – whether literally or metaphorically, whether we surrendered it or it was taken from us – much of what we once were and found ourselves with “nothing.” Whatever we had identified with, whatever gave us our sense of self, had been taken away or simply left behind. 

When I read what Tolle had written, what occurred to me is that I had identified with - in Tolle-ian language - the “forms” of Mormon fatherhood and with the Mormon heterosexual priesthood idyll.  “Ego,” writes Tolle, “is always identification with form, seeking yourself and thereby losing yourself in some form. Forms are not just material objects and physical bodies. More fundamental than the external forms—things and bodies—are the thought forms that continuously arise in the field of consciousness."

Freed from Form

For many years, I realized, I had sought my identity – and in the process lost myself – in the “forms” of Mormon fatherhood and the Mormon heterosexual priesthood. These forms provided a framework in which to conduct my life. When I came out, I lost that framework. But, this loss provided opportunity: “When there is nothing to identify with anymore,” writes Tolle, “who are you? When forms around you die … your sense of Beingness, of I Am, is freed from its entanglement with form. The ultimate truth of who you are is not I am this or I am that, but I Am.”

So, this collapse presented opportunity, as well as a choice. “Whenever tragic loss occurs,” writes Tolle, “you either resist or you yield. Some people become bitter or deeply resentful; others become compassionate, wise, and loving. Yielding means inner acceptance of what is. You are open to life … When you yield internally, when you surrender, a new dimension of consciousness opens up.”

So, instead of trying to graft the Mormon fatherhood form onto my new life situation, I gradually, then abruptly in moments of clarity, came to see that I needed to let go of that form which was tightly entwined with LDS teachings, Church activities and Church culture. I then could allow myself to embrace new opportunities to define for myself my role as father. I accepted myself as gay and gave up trying to somehow reconcile that reality to the “Plan of Happiness.” I shut off the fuel-supply to efforts by others to shame me, to deny or erase my existence – because it is only by continuing to ascribe to that old form that these people could reach me and hurt me.  

Of course, this was not something that could be done overnight, but it gave me a vision for moving forward into a new consciousness, a new way of thinking, that could bring great joy not only to myself, but also to my children.

Monday, December 23, 2013

What One Utah Family with Same-Sex Parents Looks Like


Saturday was one of the happiest days of my life.* Six of my children were staying with us, and we were joined in the afternoon by my daughter Hannah, her husband Cary and their daughter, Nutella (that's what Mark and I call her). We had fun watching Nutella toddle around. We sat and chatted. We ate dinner. The kids played ping pong. Everyone was happy. Everyone was enjoying themselves. And as a father, this was the sort of evening that I had dreamt about. It was a beautiful day, a beautiful evening. 

I chose the title of this post cognizant of what is happening in Utah right now. As I wrote in my post on Saturday: "We are a family. My partner, Mark, and I love each other. We, together, love our children, who are legally "mine" and my former wife's, but are also morally Mark's. Why? Because he loves them and they love him."

We are a family.














* The lead photograph was taken by dav.d photography. The other pictures were taken by my very talented daughter, Rachel, pictured above on the left with her sister, Hannah.