BRAXTON ROGELIO

**content warning: suicide attempt is mentioned**

Braxton Rogelio (he/him) has spent his life pursuing the arts while asking big questions—which has led him to embrace his identity as the proud transmasculine, gay man he is today.

Now 39, Braxton lives in Mesa, Arizona, not far from where he was born and raised. A passionate writer since the age of 13, he’s currently working on a memoir with the support of his uncle, who is a Utah-based author, screenwriter, and director. Their bond is built on a shared love for exploring possibilities. “He’s such a sweet, funny personality,” Braxton said. “We’re so similar—we’re always asking what if, and what else.”

Braxton’s life is rich with passions. He loves anime, karaoke, travel, and his beloved cat, Bear—a tabby-Siamese mix he describes as a “gorgeous boy and absolute love bug.” He proudly embraces his Latino roots through his dad’s Portuguese and Spanish heritage. And when it comes to music, his playlist features favorites like David Archuleta, John Mayer, and Selena.

Music, in fact, quite literally saved Braxton’s life.

A few years ago, after leaving the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and facing pressure to return, Braxton found himself in a dark place. Depression overwhelmed him. “I had been told, 'You need to come back to church,' and it just got really bad,” he says. One night, feeling hopeless, he attempted to take his own life.

As he sat alone, still suffering yet having survived the attempt, a song shuffled onto his phone: David Archuleta’s “To Be With You.” He says, “Hearing David’s song—it saved my life.”

Later, Braxton had the chance to tell David Archuleta exactly that. At a Christmas concert at the House of Blues in San Diego, he met David, shared his story, and received a hug in return. “I was so grateful,” he said. “I gave him a gift—a few things he had said he liked on Instagram—and it was great to talk to him."

Last Mother’s Day marked another turning point: Braxton came out publicly as trans. While he had long stepped away from church activity, the day offered a bittersweet illustration of the complicated ties between faith, family, and identity.

His mother, still active in the church, asked him to attend services with her. Braxton agreed, despite his deep discomfort. "I was already in tears but thought, 'I'll suck it up for my mother.'" During the meeting, young children were handing out flowers to mothers. Braxton, who does not identify as a mother, was encouraged by his mom to accept one. "I thought, ‘this is so weird’," he said.

Later, attending a Relief Society meeting only deepened his feelings of isolation as Braxton had fully embraced his identity. “Ever since I was five or six years old, I knew something was going on,” he said. “I even told my brother when we were little kids, 'Hey, I'm your brother’."

Coming out to his family brought a range of responses. His younger brother, two years his junior, was the first person he told. “He wasn’t surprised,” Braxton said. “He said, 'You've always identified that way. As long as you're happy.'"

His sister, who is three years older, and his father were also supportive. His father’s response was simple and unconditional: "No matter what, I'll always love you."

Today, Braxton enjoys close relationships with his father and stepmother—whom he affectionately calls "Mama"—as well as with his brother and his brother’s family. "Everyone lives in Arizona,” he said. "My dad and Mama have lived in the same house for 25 years. My brother and his wife and five kids live just down the street."

While most of his family offers love and acceptance, there have been painful exceptions. But Braxton focuses on the love that surrounds him. “I have a good support system and love them very much,” he said.

Braxton’s journey of self-discovery has also included navigating relationships. Over the years, he’s experienced three failed engagements. Each time, he realized he couldn't move forward without first fully understanding and accepting himself. “It had to do with me, not them,” he reflected. “I couldn’t help them the way they deserved, not with everything going on inside me.”

Today, Braxton also identifies as demisexual or asexual, and finds belonging within the ace community. Trying to live authentically hasn’t been without its challenges. Braxton has faced harsh words, including being told he was “evil” or “being seduced by Satan.” But he stands firm in who he is and trying to be. “With everything going on in the world, don't be afraid,” he says. “Embrace yourself. You shouldn't feel ashamed. You deserve to be yourself.”

Looking ahead, Braxton says, “I hope to be a man married to another man,” he said. He feels a strong connection to his Latino heritage and hopes to build a life that honors all parts of his identity. He’s also working toward greater mental health support, planning to join a group therapy program through AZ for Change, an organization supporting LGBTQ+ individuals.

Music continues to be a source of healing and joy. Braxton eagerly looks forward to attending upcoming David Archuleta concerts—including two in southern California this week. “I'm excited to meet up with some friends there,” he said.

In the meantime, he continues writing, learning to play the piano from his mother, and pursuing his dream of publishing his memoir—which he hopes will prove a testament to a life defined not by fear or conformity, but by authenticity, resilience, and love.

THE ANDRUS FAMILY

I am a Child of God,

Their promises are sure;

Queer kids are precious in Their site

If they can but endure.

Lead me, guide me

Walk beside me;

Help me find the way.

Teach me all that I must do -

To help them live today.

It’s a mantra and a mission for Andrea Andrus, who reworked the words of a favorite hymn to align with her own experience as the mother of Ash (they/them). At 17 years old, Ash identifies as pansexual, nonbinary, and asexual, and was also recently diagnosed with autism. Andrea feels it’s both a calling and a blessing to parent such a beloved child with unique gifts. “Ash is my miracle baby. I want them and the world to know how special they are.” And of the many children like her own who also struggle with their mental health, Andrea says of her advocacy, “We know there are lives on the line. That’s why we do this work.”  

Ash was born when Andrea was 35. Andrea and husband Kevin both recognized early on that there was always something extra special about them. Growing up, Andrea says Ash was the “sweetest, sweetest kid -- super smart, top of the class. Ash always wanted to do the right thing and be involved and have fun. They would come home from school all the time and say, ‘This is the best day ever’!” Ash is artistic and gifted musically. They performed with a youth theatre group, taught themselves the ukulele, and after taking piano lessons for several years, now play by ear.

While Ash has always been a delight to their parents, Andrea chokes up at recalling the rough road the Andrus’ faced when they realized the level of suffering their child had endured for years. Around Ash’s 8th grade year, Andrea and Kevin made an unexpected move back to Idaho, where they both were raised. Ash was forced to leave behind their friends and everything they knew. Then Covid hit. Ash seemed to be lost in their own world. Andrea vividly remembers the day she went in to wake up Ash for seminary and she realized there was something more going on – she knew her child was really suffering from major anxiety and depression. As they worked through that for a couple years, there was still something else Andrea felt she was missing. She then found out her child was autistic. Andrea says, “I feel strongly that someone being born with autism is just like being born LGBTQ – it’s how your brain is formed. And it’s great -- autistic people change the world. They think outside the box, they are beautiful and creative, just like our LGBTQ community.” 

But Andrea feels that Ash having been undiagnosed that long with autism, and not getting the right support and treatments was very harmful and likely made their depression a lot worse. Right after they found out they were likely autistic, Ash asked Andrea, “Mom, am I broken?” Andrea says, “I had this powerful download of words that were not my own: ‘No, you’re not broken. This is your superpower’.” She told Ash, ‘It’s just like being gay. It’s how you were born. There’s nothing wrong with that, and it’s beautiful.”

Andrea reasons so many children like her own came out during 2020, (or while on their missions), is because in times of deep introspection and isolation with both yourself and God, is when we get real with ourselves. It was the same for Ash, whose coming out was a bit of an evolution of identities as they navigated what felt most authentic. Eventually, they found identifying as nonbinary to feel like a better fit for them than being gender fluid or trans.  Andrea reports that in her research, she has found this to be a perfectly normal part of an LGBTQ youth’s journey. While she struggled with Ash’s name and pronoun shifts at first, she values the advice of (Lift and Love Trans Support Group Leader Mama) Anita who says, “Using preferred name and pronouns is another way of saying ‘I love you’.” This got really real for Andrea who, having been married once before, recently saw her former married name printed somewhere and it made her physically ill, which again reiterated to her the importance of believing people when they tell you who they are, and not dead-naming them.

Ash no longer associates with the church, and is unsure if they believe in God. Yet they have a deep connection with and find comfort in nature. Ash loves animals, mountains, the ocean, and forests. Spiritually, Ash leans into mystical things and loves crystals, essential oils, and finds Oracle cards fascinating -- much like a journal prompt. As Andrea has stepped back and watched her child’s interests develop, she has been reminded of the creation story witnessed in the temple, and that all the elements that fascinate Ash and cause them to listen to the divine are the same surrounding elements that God created. 

Rather than resist Ash’s affinities, Andrea has made it a conscience choice to lean in and learn what her child is experiencing. She recognizes that a long time ago, she was one of those people who thought being gay was a choice. But when her own child came out, and her daily need became keeping that child alive, Andrea shed some of her past reluctancies and now finds intense peace and joy in allowing her heart to remain cracked open. An early prompting to learn all she could about the LGBTQ space transformed Andrea’s own belief system as she started to see that her personal revelation and insights did not always align with what she’d been taught. At one point, she apologized to Ash for not being better prepared, and now the two have a very strong bond of trust and transparency. Because of the actions Andrea took to educate herself and become a stronger ally, not only does Andrea feel an extreme outpouring of love for Ash, but for all LGBTQ people, including her gay niece and nephew.

She advises others to “Stay curious. To try to accept and love. If something bothers you, ask yourself why.” When Ash first came out to their parents, at the time the Andrus family was living in Twin Falls, ID, where they had a remarkable affirming bishop and his wife – each with a gay sibling of their own. Andrea’s bishop advised her to seek her own personal revelation, while also saying, “Your job is to love them.” At first, she thought, “Of course, I do.” But with time, she learned that love really is a verb.

On her spiritual journey, many things uttered over pulpits have been hurtful to Andrea. “I try to be a stone catcher. But sometimes it feels like stones are being thrown by some of our own.” One recent talk in particular that made it sound like Andrea’s child might “end up in a lesser kingdom” was especially hard. “I reject that,” she says. “I think there’s a VIP section for our LGBTQ siblings in heaven. A special place for special people.” Andrea also embraces the notion of expecting miracles along this journey as we navigate from Point A to Point B. She says, “God loves all His children. If the gospel doesn’t include all God’s children, then it’s not the complete gospel.”  

Now residents of Eagle, ID, Andrea is hopeful the church may someday feel like a safer place for her family. But as of now, she says, “We’re hurting. It’s not ok. Such a huge percentage of LGBTQ families leave the church. There are some people and organizations doing great things, but until it comes from the top, it’s not going to change the masses. Unless you’re blessed enough to have an LGBTQ child, it’s a slow process of changing hearts. And in the meantime, we’re losing so many wonderful people. Every ward’s got a few safe ‘come sit by me’ people, but it’s not enough. It’s a huge loss. And it’s lonely.” That being said, Andrea takes great comfort in her knowledge that her child Ash has a divine purpose on earth, and that God will help them succeed.