LUPE BARTHOLOMEW

Lupe Bartholomew and her son David Archuleta

“If I have to live without you 

I don’t want to live forever 

In someone else's heaven 

So let 'em close the gates” 

They are lines many parents in this space understand. For Lupe Bartholomew, they are the lyrics she inspired in her son David Archuleta’s new single, “Hell Together.” Once Lupe realized the depth of pain her son was experiencing at the crux of his faith transition, she made it clear she would navigate this road with him in words that resonate with many listeners:

“If they don't like the way you're made 

Then they're not any better 

If paradise is pressure 

Oh, we'll go to Hell together”

However, this was not the initial response Lupe offered when David first came out as queer. Having had little known interaction with the LGBTQ+ community until the moment her son shared his news with her on a phone call at age 29, (after three failed engagements with women and years of trying to make the LDS church’s teachings work), Lupe admits it took her time to get to a place of understanding and affirmation. She is now intentional about sharing her side of the story of her recent decision to step away from the church in solidarity of her son and her newfound understanding, so that she might sit with others. In this space, she recognizes many might echo the lyric, “I'm afraid of letting go of the version of me that I used to know.”

That version grew up in Honduras, the youngest of four daughters born to loving parents who worked hard to provide a happy home amidst widespread poverty. Lupe and her sisters loved to sing. After some missionaries introduced their mom to the LDS faith and they were baptized, the Mayorga girls would often don matching dresses and sing at new members’ baptisms and other services, taking their show on the road. At a young age, Lupe was also an accomplished basketball player and champion free throw shooter on Honduras’ national team. When she was 15, her father’s job allowed the family to move to Miami, where the girls continued their missionary efforts, singing at baptisms and church events.

While in Florida, Lupe met a man from church. At the time, she didn’t attend much as she was working long shifts as a caregiver to help her family pay the bills. But as she became more involved with the young man, she also increased her involvement with the church. The two eventually took a bus to Salt Lake City to get married in the temple, then right back to Florida, where four of their five kids were born. There was a sixth child, but Lupe’s third pregnancy resulted in a full-term stillbirth, which devastated her. But with two young toddlers at home, she had no choice but to keep living, not wanting them to “see me crying in my bedroom all the time.” 

The Archuletas traded the sun for the snow when Lupe’s then husband felt Utah would be a better place to raise the kids, surrounded by the influence of the church. They moved west to Bountiful and then Murray, UT, where they could walk to church instead of driving 30 minutes as they had in Florida. Lupe says they loved being surrounded by temples and the church culture. Having always wanted eight kids, Lupe especially loved the supportive environment for men to work and women to stay home with the children. When they were little, Lupe loved homeschooling and taught all of their kids to read by age four. As the children also inherited their mother’s pipes, music filled their home as she taught them to sing. Lupe admits she didn’t love to cook or bake, so instead they would treat their neighbors with Christmas carols at the holidays, and often go sing to residents of senior living facilities. 

David was just 16 when he appeared on American Idol. Though he had won Star Search at age 12, this newfound fame was “exciting, but so unexpected.” Lupe continues, “I had trained my kids to sing for fun, not to be famous… And David had always been so shy.” While the fame was “cool” at first, it quickly became overwhelming for Lupe as it affected the family’s privacy with people taking pictures of their house, randomly knocking on their door, and leaving presents. When people at church would ask, “How’s your son?” Lupe would think, “Which one? I have two?” She recalls, “The rest of us kind of became invisible.” 

Once American Idol launched David’s career, Lupe says he never really came home full-time after that, nor experienced the childhood many other teens get to. His father handled most of the travel with David, while Lupe stayed home with their other kids. And the rest of the world watched as David took bold actions that affirmed his faith—he served a mission in South America. After he returned, Lupe says, “I saw David praying the gay away—he was so righteous. I thought he’d be a general authority or something, he was so obedient and dedicated. He’d stay in a white shirt and tie on Sundays, listening to conference talks. And he was put on a pedestal by the church, like a posterchild.”

Lupe and her first husband divorced, yet she remained devoted to visiting the temple every week for guidance. It was there while praying that God would send someone who understood her needs that a name clearly entered her mind: “Dave.” The next day, she felt a strong presence of love in her living room so overwhelming she started crying. She now wonders if that might have been a spiritual force nudging the union. Although they’d only been out a few times, Dave Bartholomew turned out to be the man she would marry, and later get sealed to in the Salt Lake City temple. With their blended family, they now enjoy time with nine children and 18 grandkids whom Lupe cherishes, saying, “The love I feel for them is so strong it hurts sometimes.” Lupe and Dave have been happily married for ten years, and she now sees how he’s the perfect person for her in all the ways as they have navigated this road together. She has watched some friends’ husbands leave them after calling them “apostates” when they underwent faith transitions, and she appreciates how Dave has stuck by her side.

When Lupe’s son David first called to tell her he was gay, she expressed how his family will always love him and be there for him. But as Lupe had recently increased her own activity in the church after being disappointed several of her family members had pulled away, she was in a place of determination to be the strong one, the example, the one to “gather my eternal family.” When her daughters stopped attending, she appreciates how they supported her still going but scoffed when one day her daughter said, “Have fun” as Lupe made her way out the door to church. Lupe thought, “I’m not going there to have fun! I’m going there to work and save others!” Resolved to keeping one foot in the door with the church and the other with her family, Lupe reasoned she could still love her child no matter what while also believing all the teachings of her faith. This resulted in several challenging conversations with her son as she tried to convince him to backpedal his announcement. She says, “I was struggling with it because in my mind, we needed to obey the prophet, and what the prophet says, goes. And I reminded him how the youth of the church look up to him and how was that going to work?... I worried all these kids would lose their testimonies, and was concerned for the youth if David stepped away and came out as gay.” 

Lupe says she encouraged him to try to work through things and figure out how to keep up with the thousands of people he’d been an example to. She recalls how when visiting home, he’d join her for church at her request, but eventually he expressed it was too painful to keep trying to show up. Around this time, Lupe started to notice things—how when she looked around her ward congregation, she did not see LGBTQ+ people in the crowd. While she had never been interested in delving into church history before, she learned some information that troubled her. While she had been planning to become a temple worker, she started to wonder how honestly she could answer some of the questions anymore as she deconstructed her faith.

And then David’s article in People magazine came out, which opened Lupe’s eyes to realize just how much her son was struggling “having been hurt so much, trying to take his life away, feeling it better to be dead than not be a good example or sinner.” The article that came out on November 1, 2022 shook Lupe, and on November 5 she wrote her bishop after having agreed to say prayers in sacrament meeting along with her husband, but now realizing she couldn’t do it emotionally (although she had always loved praying). She expressed:

“I’m writing this email with tears in my eyes because it hurts so much to make this decision… After careful thought, ponder and praying, we have decided that we’re going to step away from this lovely church and take a break. My family and I have worked so hard on callings, three of our kids served honorable missions and gave everything they had to preach the gospel to others. The reason why we need to take a moment away is because our wounded hearts need some time to heal from knowing not everyone is welcome in this church.”

Lupe’s letter continued to mention how church leadership at the highest level had made some off-putting comments to David that he found dismissive. She also included an excerpt from his interview with People magazine: "For my own mental health, I can't keep putting myself in a place where it's so conflicting where they say, ‘We love you so much, but at the same time, you must change who you are. Oh, you can't? Then we are going to ignore this problem’."

Lupe told her bishop, “It’s hard for us to believe that a loving Heavenly Father doesn’t welcome my son and others like him in this church if it feels to us they don’t fit the profile God's gospel needs to fit: rich and poor, white skin, dark skin, gays, lesbians, all need to be welcome. There are many of them who are beautiful and talented in the eyes of God, but they are not ‘worthy’ like we are.” Lupe then shared the parable in Matthew of the 99 sheep and how Christ always ministered to the one who “went astray.” The Bartholomew’s bishop replied respectfully, letting Lupe and Dave know they were needed and would be missed, but he respected their choice.

Since, Lupe has said her South Jordan, UT community still smiles and waves, yet respects their space and does not pressure them to attend church. Lupe loves teaching voice lessons at the Lupe Bartholomew Vocal Studio, spending time with her husband, and full time grand-motherhood. She tried to attend another church in Draper, but found they had similar views on LGBTQ and concluded, “If everyone is going to be talking about how LGBTQ don’t belong in the church, I don’t want religion in my life. I just want to love my family and move on.” In her deconstruction, she has learned how the Bible was mistranslated in some parts to conflate homosexuality with child abusers and says, “The poor LGBTQ community has been criticized for a misunderstanding. Now that I know LGBTQ people are the most wonderful, caring, fragile, loving and beautiful people, it breaks my heart. David hasn’t changed, he’s always been the same sweet spirit I raised. I know there’s a God and these kids are going to keep coming, like it or not. I now have talks with my nine-year-old grandchild about how these people need to be loved, not bullied. As parents, we need to train our next generation to be more loving.”

Lupe was touched when she received a box of supportive letters from the Mama Dragons after David came out. Together, they went through them and were moved by the outpouring of love. Lupe has enjoyed finding a new community of like-minded mothers who love their kids and prioritize their mental health above all else. Having been on both sides, she says she now sees and understands a variety of perspectives: the faithful side and the ex-Mormon community who often get criticized or called lazy learners or apostates. But Lupe says, “If you’ve never gone through a faith transition, you never know how hard it is. It’s not like you wake up one day and think ok, I want a different life! I’m still the same person. I used to be critical; now I’m not. I read stories of people not talking to their family because they left church. We don’t do that; we still need to be a family, united.”

Of inspiring David’s new song, “Hell Together,” Lupe recalls how David once told her, “When I sang the hymns for the church and did all the things for the church, I meant it.” She says, “I knew my child was not below me because I was staying in a church, so sarcastically, I said, ‘David if you’re going to hell, we’re all going with you.’ I can’t picture my kids in a lower place than me. How can I be higher than them? So I said, ‘We’re walking out with grace.’ That song made me cry when I heard it. He couldn’t have written a more perfect song to describe it. There’s no way I’ll be in a higher glory than my child. He did nothing wrong but shared that he was gay and wants to live an honest life. And he’s ready to move on, and now everyone knows.” 

THE WRIGHT FAMILY

For the Wright family of St. George, Utah, last year was a magical time of dancing and dining amidst twinkling lights with two family weddings.  On September 8, Jancee and Jeff Wright’s oldest daughter, Tylee, married her favorite cowboy, Nate, under the stars on a friend’s ranch in Arizona with a backdrop of vermillion mountains. Nate wore his cowboy hat, there was lots of line dancing and a couple’s first dance to Chris Ledoux’s “Look at You, Girl,” and loads of laughter when, after Tylee’s grandfather pronounced them husband and wife and Nate leaned in for a kiss, he tripped on Tylee’s veil and “it looked like Nate was riding a bull,” laughs Jancee, as the couple fell down together, Nate’s hat dramatically landing in Jeff’s lap in the front row. The candy bar the couple requested at the reception was emblematic of “their sweet hearts and light-hearted personalities,“ says Jancee, who still glows when talking about it. 

A few months later, on December 30, many of the same partygoers donned black tie and traveled to Sandy, UT for the nuptials of the Wright’s oldest son, Jayden, to his fiancé, Connor, at Le Jardin greenhouse. The lush green plants alit in white lights, Connor’s dad married the couple in a “classy, beautiful and perfect” ceremony, before a crowd of 500 joined in at the reception to toast the couple with bottles of Martinelli’s placed on the tables.  Guests also enjoyed snacking on the grooms’ favorites: Chic-fil-a nuggets, cinnamon rolls, chips, and a soda and lemonade bar. The youngest of five kids who are all married with kids of their own, Connor’s locally-based family also turned up in masses, and the room was full of well-dressed partygoers offering their exuberant love and support. Jayden’s newlywed sister, Tylee, produced their wedding video, and Jayden and Connor’s wedding photos were taken in the mountains, their dark, dapper suits a contrast to the white fallen snow. 

“There was so much love at both weddings.  And I felt the Savior smack dab in the middle of it all,“ says Jancee of her kids’ unions. (cont’d in comments)

She planned and partied and posted about each wedding the exact same way, and loved how “there were the exact same feelings of joy and support and each event.”  She was especially touched by the turnout to Jayden’s event by their lifelong friends, relatives, and church leaders--including bishops, stake presidents and a temple president. It was important to the families that all could attend and witness the legal pronouncement and exchange of rings and vows at each event, so the families elected for civil ceremonies, and Nate and Tylee chose to get sealed in the temple the day after their civil ceremony. While Jayden and Connor are both returned missionaries who still attend church in an LDS ward that largely supports them, this is not an option provided to them. 

Jayden and Connor met on a dating app and talked for four months before meeting face-to face.  After so many weeks of FaceTime after work, by the time they said hello in person, they hit it off immediately. Jancee says, “I feel like they’re the same person; they're so compatible in their goals and beliefs. I love Connor so much, it makes me tear up. He’s such a good guy.”  As the youngest in his family, Connor came out to his older sister-in-law first, knowing as a practicing therapist she’d likely be supportive. She was, and encouraged him to come out to his parents and siblings who were all active in the LDS church, with his father having served as a bishop.  Connor was a 14-year-old ninth grader at the time and Jancee credits his family’s support and his own inherent sense of worth as lending to Connor’s sense of confidence at such a young age. “He knows he’s a son of God, he loves himself, and I love this because it doesn't matter what anyone else says or thinks--he knows who he is.” 

Connor is now working to get his master’s to become an MFT, so he can help clients who are members of the LDS faith also navigate coming out. Currently, he works with CPS in Ogden, helping with difficult situations of emergency child and foster placement.

After graduating from Southern Utah University with his bachelor's degree, Jayden took a job working in administration for a national surgical company in Ogden, to be closer to Connor.  Together, the two love to travel, and have the budding photo wall to prove it. They got engaged in New York City, where they proposed to each other, and just returned from a trip to Fiji with Connor’s family in November. “Connor is very adventurous, which has been exactly what Jayden loves,” says Jancee. “They have many great adventures planned.” 

The revelation of Jayden’s orientation leaked back in high school, in an interchange Jancee now regrets, due to her initial reaction. Jayden was a multi-talented high school senior at the time- a triple threat with his acting, singing, and skills on the piano. He was a lead character in the school production of Aida, and happened to be the only child home one night with his mom when Jancee received a text in a thread that she was mistakenly included in. One of Jayden’s friends texted, “I’m gay.” Jayden responded, “I think I’m gay, too.” Jancee’s stomach dropped reading the words. In shock, she charged toward Jayden’s room, shaking, and showed him the message. “You are not gay, this is crazy! Why are you guys saying this?” she exclaimed, allowing fear to drive her emotions. They both started sobbing. Jancee recalls Jayden was vague and he followed her lead, denying his truth. He agreed to talk to his bishop about it, (even though he had not acted on it or done anything considered wrong), Jancee confirmed that was a good idea, and never brought it up again, even to her husband.  

Shortly after, Jayden attended a year of college, then left for a two-year mission to Milan, Italy.  He loved this experience and served honorably and returned ready for the next stage of life.  A month after his mission homecoming, he came to his mom seeking guidance and had her connect him with a life coach from her professional peer group (Jancee is an organizational life coach expert).

Contrary to Jayden’s expectations that serving a mission would “make this go away,” the coach encouraged Jayden to acknowledge what he’d been hiding and fighting--it was perhaps time for him to accept it in order to progress. 

Soon after, Jayden called his parents and asked if they could have the house to themselves one night because he needed to tell them something important. Jancee says the spirit told her,  “He’s going to tell you he is gay.” She called Jeff, a physician assistant, at work and shared this prompting and asked him to prepare for the moment. Jeff agreed and comforted Jancee, who was in shock. But this time, as she approached her prayer bench in her closet, she also felt a calm peace--a much different emotion than she had the night of the misdirected text many years ago. Honoring Jayden’s wishes, Jancee canceled a house guest they’d agreed to host and made sure Jayden’s two sisters and brother wouldn’t be home--unaware Jayden had already told all of them his news.  

Jayden arrived and came into his parents’ room. He had prepared for this, and first wanted to share a song with them, Matthew West’s “ Truth Be Told.” Then he fell apart crying.  He couldn’t say it. Jancee approached her then 22-year-old son, buckled over on the ground, and put her arm around him and said, “Jayden, I know what you’re going to say and it’s okay to say it.” Jayden whispered back, “I’m gay.” Jeff also met their son on the ground in an emotional embrace. Jancee recalls, “The spirit was so strong. It was a really beautiful moment and all we felt was love. Such a different feeling from that first time which was based completely off of fear.” 

Any perceived notions she’d ever had of orientation being a choice or something one could change were gone. Jancee says, “I trusted him. I believed him. And I changed in the blink of an eye.” Jeff also supported his son, though it was a growth journey for all. Both parents were broken-hearted when Jayden told them that he had worried when he was younger, they would kick him out if he told them about this part of him–something they could never imagine doing.

During the first year after finding out, Jancee also sought support of her own. While scrolling through a list of 300 potential life coaches, she landed on the name “Jenie Hunter,” not knowing Jenie’s own son was gay and that she was involved in Lift & Love. Jancee credits such moments as miracles: “God knew I needed Jenie. God loves Jayden, me, Connor and our families. God is just good, and has been present every step of the way.” 

People now frequently ask Jancee how she can stay in the church and support her gay son, to which she replies, “I’ve come to a place where I just recognize the Savior in this whole journey; I’ve written down countless miracles that have happened. The Savior is not behind me, or in front of me, but smack in the middle with me. I’ve seen Him everywhere. As I’ve held onto that and let Him guide me and felt His spirit in this, I want to create a safe space for others coming behind me.” Jancee now gets a call from a worried mom almost weekly, especially since Jayden has gotten married, and she loves providing that safe, comforting place.  She wears a rainbow ring and makes herself available to leaders seeking to understand their journey.  She says, “I know church doesn’t work for everyone; there is so much hurt and pain and you have to choose what serves you best. If you stay or leave we all have our own journey. For me, I choose to stay, but I also know I have a great responsibility to be a voice and a safe place for those coming behind me. I have been able to come to this place only through my Savior, Jesus Christ.” 

When Jayden and Connor even more frequently get asked why they still attend sacrament meetings in an Ogden ward where they’ve now bought a home, they say, “It’s because of the Savior. That’s why we attend each week.” Jancee says, “It’s hard, but that’s been their journey.” When people ask Jancee if her two married children’s unions look or feel any different, Jancee replies, “I’ve loved my kids' spouses long before I knew who they were.

I decided a long time ago that it didn’t matter who they were, I already loved who they would choose.  I trust my kids--this has been a beautiful gift and blessing in my life to decide this long before it happened.” 

Jancee’s scriptural lifeline has been Proverbs 3:5-6, and she recalls many years being on her knees in her closet asking how to navigate her family path with the church, and reflecting on the words: “Trust in the Lord and lean not unto thine own understanding.” Jancee says, “There’s a reason God keeps making children come to earth who are gay. I don’t know why, but God does-- I just get to trust Him. It’s just who they are, and my only job is to Love BIG!”

THE VON PINGEL FAMILY

Each week, Teddi and Eric von Pingel experience a different type of Sunday than they once envisioned. For Teddi, it’s a physically taxing endeavor as she now serves as the ASL interpreter coordinator for a Deaf ward in Lehi, UT, where Eric teaches Sunday School. While they dutifully raised their three children in the church, partly out of gratitude for the roots planted by their convert parents, Teddi and Eric now attend alone. The von Pingels once adhered to “all in” gospel living, never questioning what they’d been taught; but now, they regularly question how best to navigate the waters of loving both their LGBTQ children and their church, of which their youngest two no longer feel a part.

It wasn’t always this way. Before they married, Teddi served an ASL mission in North Carolina and Georgia. Eric equally loved his time as an elder in Montevideo, Uruguay. They were committed to raising their kids (Olivia – 23, D’Artagnan – 21, and Sophia – 17) in their faith. All three attended seminary, and their older two graduated. Teddi says they were taken by surprise when Olivia announced her plans to serve a mission after high school graduation, as she had always said she wouldn’t be doing that. But she accepted a call to McAllen, TX - Spanish speaking. About a week after her departure, the von Pingels got a call that Olivia was experiencing debilitating anxiety. Not eating, not sleeping, she was miserable. Her parents referenced their own experiences as missionaries and told her, “You can do this; we know it’s hard.” But the anxiety got worse, and after several more weeks, Olivia’s mission president put her on a plane to go home. 

Her homecoming was the beginning of Olivia’s journey of learning to love herself. Olivia still attended church at that point, as she tried to work through what it meant to come home early, even though all her leaders assured her she had served honorably. Gradually, she became less active. Teddi recalls, “I had several promptings she was experiencing same-sex attraction. When I prayed about it, I’d feel ‘This is not your journey, you have to be there for her and let her experience this’.” When Teddi would talk to her daughter about the emotions she was experiencing, she’d ask, “Is there anything else you’d like to talk to me about?” Olivia would reply, “I don’t know, Mom, I don’t know.” 

One of the blessings of Covid was the amount of time the family spent together. Finally one day, Olivia approached her mom and said, “I need to be honest with you – I’m bisexual; I’m attracted to women.” Teddi responded, “I already felt that’s what you were going to say – I love you, and I’m proud of you for being who you are.” Teddi continues, “Come to find out, I was one of the last to know. She was afraid I’d be disappointed in her. I think that came from teachings from the church. But I reassured her, ‘I love you, you’re my child first, I will always choose you. Now you’ve got to tell your dad’.” And in walked Eric, who joined them on their couch of tears. Eric also told Olivia, “I love you so much and I’m so proud of you for telling us.”

Teddi recalls that as one of the most beautiful days of her life: “The day my child trusted me to be who she is. I take that as a great honor – to have a child comfortable enough to tell me.” Their conversation took a turn as Olivia then dovetailed into telling her parents she just didn’t think the church was true anymore, saying, “I can’t be a part of a church that doesn’t accept me for who I am. I was trying so hard and what I was experiencing would be seen as unrighteous even though I had never had a serious relationship with anyone, or done anything.” This became a troubling point for Teddi as well – how so many focus on the physical aspects of being LGBTQ, when in reality, so many of these kids haven’t even had that opportunity.

Olivia soon stopped attending church altogether, and struggled with her parents’ continued activity in a church she felt didn’t accept her. Teddi responded, “Sweetie, I don’t know what else to do. It might take me time to navigate all this.” Again, Teddi felt grateful for the home church focus during the pandemic, and that they had time to process their future together. Siblings D’Artagnan and Sophia completely love and support Olivia, and while D’Artagnan is still active in his singles’ ward, Sophia soon after stopped attending seminary, saying she couldn’t attend a church that doesn’t love and accept her sister. Within the last six months, Sophia, now a junior in high school, has also told her parents that she identifies with the “Q” of “LGBTQ:” she’s questioning. 

The von Pingels continue to love and support each other where they’re at, and Teddi values their strong family unit. She cringes when she hears parents say things like, “I’d rather my child die than be gay,” something she’d never want to imagine. And she both thanks and laments figures in their past who affected their own views about what it means to have a gay child. Teddi and Eric are grateful for the various LGBTQ coworkers, friends and family members they have who they had the opportunity to care for and root for before they had a child needing them to apply those actions inhouse. And while they offer him grace, they’re a little less grateful for an older neighbor and former home teacher they once had who chose not to support his own gay child, even refusing to attend his wedding because he “didn’t want to send the wrong message.” Teddi feels bad that this experience really stayed with Olivia who withheld her own feelings from her parents for a long time, feeling like, “If that person couldn’t support his own child, how could he ever accept me?” In contrast, the von Pingels also have a fabulous neighbor who sent a note around the neighborhood offering to distribute Pride flags to anyone who might want to share their love and support for their LGBTQ friends during Pride month. “Those small acts – we see. Those of us struggling to fit in, or who have a child who struggles to fit in and who wants nothing to do with church… it’s just being a community member. We see every single thing people put out – flags, mats.  Such simple, great gestures,” says Teddi.

Since quarantine has ended, the von Pingels are transitioning to a new normal, which has proven to be an adjustment. Where they live, Teddi says, “It can be hard to know how to make friends when you’re not part of the church community.” But Olivia wants to get out there and date. A former student at UVU, she now is following her brother’s path and is in the coding program at Lambda. Over the past three years, she’s also diligently woken up to work the 5am shift at Hruska’s Kolaches. (Teddi’s had to diligently ask her to stop bringing the delectable treats home anymore.)

While their daughters have stepped away from the church, Olivia and Sophia recognize and appreciate that their parents still embrace the ideals of service and community which Teddi credits as pillars of the church. Otherwise, they’re struggling to “make sense of all this contradiction in what they’ve been taught and the message in their heads.” There are a lot of questions. But Teddi says there came a day when she asked, “How can we be of service still?” That is when she decided to put her ASL skills to use once again to attend the nearby Lehi 44th deaf ward. She says, “For some reason, I feel Olivia can accept that – she knows the deaf community and their struggles and that they are grateful for our presence there. The deaf community is more loving and accepting of all people where they’re at. We’re not sure how long this will last, but for now, this is where we need to be.” 

Teddi says in some ways, their journey reminds her of themes in the recent Oscar-winning film, CODA, which follows a deaf family and their hearing child as she debates whether to follow her dreams to become a singer or stay behind to help translate for her parents. Teddi says, “I feel like that movie has another symbolic meaning for parents of LGBTQ – how do they choose? How do we choose? Do you sign? Do you not sign? Do you stay with your family, or pursue your own path? It can feel like a deaf parent who doesn’t fully understand their hearing child. How do you support and love and lift a child when what they’re experiencing is outside your own experience? You just have to believe them.”

And when it comes to her own beliefs, Teddi says, “I don’t know about a lot of things in the church anymore, but I know I have Heavenly Parents who love me and love my children. That’s where I’m staking my flag – and it’s a Pride one.”

THE ROWELL FAMILY

To this day, it’s still hard for Penny Rowell to talk about without emotions resurfacing. It’s been almost a decade since her son Trevor, now 27, first came out to his parents, but he only felt safe coming out publicly in the past couple years. While his parents are so proud of him and optimistic for Trevor’s future, sometimes they wish they could go back and get a redo. To rewind and shield him from so many painful things heard at church. A decade ago, many in their circle – including Todd and Penny – were operating off limited understanding about what it means to be gay. But now, they are grateful for the plethora of resources available, and thus choose to be one themselves through sharing their story. 

When Trevor was about 18, Penny recalls sitting in a sacrament meeting when abruptly, her husband Todd got up with Trevor and left her and their other three boys (Brandon – now 25 and married to Kieryae, Tyler – 22, and Nathan – 18) behind. Penny texted her husband: “What’s going on?” Shortly after, Todd replied she needed to come home. Trevor was due to receive the Melchizedek priesthood in preparation for serving a mission, but something was weighing heavy on him. Penny and Todd don’t recall their oldest child ever saying, “I’m gay,” but that day was the first time he opened up to his parents and shared he had an attraction to guys. 

Because of what she’d been raised to believe in a predominately LDS culture, Penny says they replied with support but also thought this was something they could “work through” as a family and made an appointment for Trevor to meet with the bishop. Trevor talked with 3 different bishops as well as his mission president over the years, and the advice was always the same. That if he said his prayers, read scriptures, conference talks, remained faithful through his mission, everything would be okay – in fact, this could even go away. Trevor’s mission president even suggested that when he came home from his mission that he should marry a woman right away, and not delay. After meeting with a BYU bishop, Trevor himself had to point the bishop to the church’s mormonandgay.org website of the time and implore him to stop telling other gay kids errant information – that reading a conference talk would not offer a magic cure for changing one’s orientation.  

 Trevor served a mission to Fortaleza, Brazil. But of course, nothing changed about his orientation, and Penny now says they feel stupid for ever thinking that might be a possibility. Trevor came home and resumed his schooling at BYU, where the climate endorsed his notion to keep his sexuality under wraps until that diploma was in hand. The weight of the secrecy bore on his parents, who together realized how much worse must be the burden their son carried, having to keep such a huge part of himself secret. Penny remembers driving Trevor to work one day, after he returned from his mission and him just breaking down. Later, he opened up that on that day in the car, he realized he could never marry a girl – he could never do that to someone. And he no longer wanted to give his parents any false hope. He was gay. 

 While BYU was a difficult place to be for Trevor and he often contemplated transferring to another university that would be better for his mental health, he stayed to complete his studies in graphic design. He loved the program there and felt more comfortable in that environment, with those teachers and people, than any other time at BYU. While in Provo, he received counseling at BYU and at Flourish therapy. (He decided to start therapy after meeting with that BYU bishop.) Penny said she started to see a weight being lifted a bit when he started going. Trevor says that going to therapy is what finally started to change things for him. He graduated in April of 2020, and the lack of the closure of a graduation ceremony during the pandemic felt like yet another defeat. But once Trevor finally received that diploma in the mail (that was unfortunately delayed through a shipping error), he was finally ready to come out publicly. And so were his parents. 

Along the way, through the quiet years, Penny felt guided and buoyed by support resources that would show up in just the right time and just the right way. Penny remembers one late night when she was lamenting the pain her son was experiencing. She got up from bed and went into her (literal) closet where she stumbled on Becky Mackintosh’s video on the lds.org site. She went to Facebook and happened to connect immediately with Becky.  Later, Becky and her husband both became great confidantes and mentors for Penny and Todd. Penny also found a great lifeline through the Facebook group I’ll Walk With You. Not only did she cherish meeting like minds who got her family, but she feels she’s benefited from learning about other identities in the LGBTQ space as others share their experiences. 

Penny now feels it’s vital that more training is offered in the church, as such a huge population of LDS members identify as LGBTQ. She says, “It’s a crapshoot of what kids will hear. And you’re playing with their mental health. I think all bishops, youth leaders, and seminary teachers should undergo necessary training so they’ll stop saying things that might give our kids a reason to not want to be here anymore.” In her own corner of the world in Liberty Lake, WA, Penny works to be a visual ally by hanging a Pride flag at her house so others know she offers an open heart and listening ear. Something her family needed. Todd also hangs a rainbow-themed “All are welcome here” sign in his high school AP history and government classroom to let his students know he is a safe space. They both encourage other LGBTQ parents to just love their kids, and draw boundaries if and when necessary with others to maintain a healthy support system for their kids. 

Trevor is no longer affiliated with the church, which Penny says, “I’m 1000% okay with because I know it’s not a safe place for him. He’s now able to be comfortable with who he is. When you hear your kid say they grew up feeling like they’d rather have a terminal disease than be gay, you know there’s something wrong there. I hate that we subjected him (unknowingly) to that.” 

Trevor is now living his best life as a graphic designer in Seattle, working from home, hanging out with friends, going to museums, and dating.  Penny is eager for him to find the love of his life, just as she hopes for all her kids, (and maybe, if not more for Trevor). She hopes that one day, he “has a family, happiness, success in his job, feels loved and cherished, makes a difference, and most of all she hopes for him to feel healed – not from being gay but from the hurt and pain caused by those who don’t accept that. I don’t want him to carry this stuff with him forever. I’d much rather my son be here (on earth) and in a happy relationship and feel love than alone in the church.” 

Of the new perspective Penny has gained since her oldest son came out, she says one pivotal realization has been that, “I truly in my soul don’t think a loving Heavenly Father would create a gay kid then expect them to fight it and live alone. With everything I am, as a parent myself, I just don’t believe that.”  

Penny and Trevor share a special mother-son bond, loving their time spent together watching reality shows like Project Runway, shopping, and on occasion, learning Tiktok dances. Penny describes Trevor as an amazing and caring man, a fun guy to be around, a great friend who gives good advice, and a loving and supportive big brother and son. She loves how Trevor stands up for himself and for what’s right. 

Church can now be a hard place for the Rowells, especially after recent painful talks and policies stemming out of Utah. They try to practice patience for those who have not yet experienced what their family has in this realm, and hope better resources and education from church headquarters are offered soon. In the meantime, Penny says her family relishes watching “The Chosen” series and often finds that to be the Sunday School lesson they crave. She says, “I can’t picture the Christ of The Chosen turning away a whole body of people.” 

The love Penny bears for all her children runs deep, and of the tears she’s shed while reflecting on the pain Trevor’s experienced, Penny wants all in her circle to know, “This is an emotional topic for me, I would never want someone to mistake my tears for sadness because my son is gay. I’m not sad because I have a gay kid; I’m sad (and cry) because of how they’re sometimes treated. I’m really grateful I have a gay son; I know it’s a blessing. We’ve grown in ways we never would have, if not for him. And we feel so very blessed.”

THE CHAPMAN FAMILY

“It wasn’t a shock,” Susan Chapman says of her 21-year-old daughter, Sarah, coming out earlier this year. In fact, when Sarah was in high school, Susan tried to broach the subject herself with a “Hey, so…” Sarah would laugh and tell her friends, “My mom thinks I’m gay.” Susan now knows Sarah wasn’t ready to admit it just yet. 

Brought up LDS, Sarah was under the impression that perhaps it was something that might go away after she served a mission. But during her mission, Sarah realized this is who she is and it isn’t going anywhere. When she returned, she thought she might date guys, but quickly realized that also wasn’t going to work out. Shortly after, Susan visited her daughter for her birthday, and Sarah shared a particular Questions from the Closet podcast episode with her mom. Susan says she isn’t proud of how she responded at the time, and the next day apologized for not being as open as she would have liked. “When I went home from that trip, I really realized: my daughter is gay. Heavenly Father was preparing me.” She asked Sarah if anything was troubling her. Sarah replied, “I’m just dealing with some stuff.” Susan said, “You might as well tell me because I think you’ll feel better once you do. I already know, but you’re going to have to tell me.” Sarah said, “How did you know?” Susan said, “God told me.”

The truth is, they were both dealing with a lot of really heavy stuff. In November of 2020, Susan’s husband Ryan had been diagnosed with colon cancer. He had lost his own father to a different form of cancer a year prior, and Ryan’s prognosis also did not look good. Sarah asked her mom not to tell her dad about her orientation, but Susan did – an action that upset her daughter, and the two did not speak for a few days, which was very out of character for them. But Susan needed the support of her spouse – her best friend, and most importantly, she knew that Sarah would need to know she had her dad’s support while he was still with them, if things were to go south.

Indeed, Ryan instantly expressed unconditional love for his daughter, and his own previous ideologies about what it meant to be gay changed on a dime once it hit home with his own daughter. Susan says he told her that up until that point, he wanted to believe it was a choice -- that if someone did not want to be gay, they could choose not to be. To each his own. But now, he knew that he had misunderstood. 

Susan said that while their community rallied around them through Ryan’s public battle with cancer, she was also privately processing the confirmation of Sarah’s reality. During those first few days, Susan got her hands on every source of information she could and listened to many Audible books to help her understand and prepare. She had a strong impression that this was something her daughter had signed up for in the pre-existence: primarily to advocate for others and create change. The family always joked about their daughter’s leadership and pioneering vision: “Sarah for President,” they’d say. Sarah is the second oldest of siblings Jared -23 (who is married to Brooke), Emma – 19, Joseph – 17, Joshua – 15, and Jacob – 12. As a child, she was very athletic, loving volleyball and basketball, and very intelligent. “I cannot match wit with her. She’s always going to win an argument, so I’ve learned not to argue with her,” laughs Susan. 

Her mother also lauds her genuine compassion for others. The Chapman family had two foster kids, ages 4 and 9, when Sarah was in high school and Susan watched Sarah develop an immense compassion for them and frustration with “the system.” Now she’s seeing that compassion shift to another cause: LGBTQ+ equality. “I’m excited to see what she does with it, because she genuinely feels called to help others.” And in turn, so does Susan as her mother. “I guess I must have signed up for this, too.” 

Susan is grateful for a predominately supportive local church community who have reached out with love. She is grateful a friend in her Tuscon, AZ ward is now trying to start an LGBTQ support group. Susan’s nephew is gay, so it was “a moot point” for her side of the family, who’ve already been down this road and fully support Sarah. Susan says it’s been nice to see Ryan’s side of the family also show love.

When deciding to come out publicly in a recent Instagram post (@s.chappity), Sarah first consulted Ben Schilaty for advice, and she appreciates those like him who have been open about their orientation. Sarah longs for positive, LGBTQ female role models in the church, and is on track to be one herself. She is employed by the LDS church in a teaching capacity, and is grateful she has been told by her supervisors that she should live her life with authenticity.

Susan says that Sarah has a deep understanding that she is a child of God and that He loves her immensely. She loves sharing this knowledge with her classroom, and hopes to make others in similar positions feel God’s love for them. The first time she acknowledged she’s gay to a class, Sarah said she felt like she was going to throw up, but she felt comforted seeing that a few in the room gave her subtle thumbs up signs. She’s not sure what the future holds, but for now, she feels called to stay in the church and share the message that people like her are loved completely and unconditionally by their Heavenly Parents.

By fully supporting her daughter, Susan says she is also on board to fully support whatever actions and life steps Sarah takes down the road. “I don’t want her to ever be afraid to tell me if she starts dating, or kisses someone. I want us always to be open and close.” Susan, who is crafty, was more than happy to make a fall rainbow wreath that hangs on their door with pride. Several of her friends (of other Christian faiths) have told her how impressed they are with her daughter sharing her truth, and how the family’s love and support have been positively modeled by them as members of the LDS faith. “I think we’ve come a long way, but we’re still learning,” she says. For other parents who may be struggling, Susan offers the wise advice, “Your child is still your child; they didn’t change. They’re the exact same person they were before they told you. So this shouldn’t change anything. I know some parents might feel shocked at first – and I try to remember that. Though, I’m grateful I was prepared and wasn’t totally shocked.”

Susan says there is some learning she observes that needs to take place with certain leaders so that they might be more inspired to create a safe space for our LGBTQ brothers and sisters. “The leadership sets the tone for the ward. So as leaders, we must show love and support. The youth are always listening, and when you’re gay, you’re on hyper alert – you know where you’re safe, and where you’re not. You want to create a ward, stake, and seminary class where you know you’re safe. I worked with the youth, and they knew they were always safe with me.” Susan also wants people to know there is a better way to respond when someone comes out to you. Before Sarah hit send on her post, Susan was comforted knowing she had friends on standby ready to respond with, “We love you. We support you. Thank you for sharing this part of you with us.” She also said there were those who didn’t respond at all and who seemed to avoid Susan the Sunday after her daughter’s post. “You notice.” But overall, they are very optimistic about Sarah finding her place and making change.

On August 23, 2021, Ryan Chapman succumbed to cancer, with his loving family at his side. Susan says that in hindsight, both she and Sarah are grateful that Susan told Ryan what she did when she did, because when he followed up with Sarah shortly after, he was still in strong enough health that their conversation was deep and meaningful. And now, Sarah will forever know she has her father’s full love and support. Susan is also grateful to know that Ryan can and will support Sarah in more ways than they will ever know from the other side.

THE BURTON FAMILY

One night, when Holly Burton was tucking her 6-year-old son Sam into bed, he looked up at her with his imploring blue eyes and said, “Mom, I have a question and you have to tell me the truth. Am I adopted?” Holly responded, “No, honey. I would tell you if you were adopted; why do you ask that?” Her son replied, “I don’t know, I’m just… different.”

It turns out Sam would experience a unique path from many of his peers, in more ways than one. “He was always a very creative, gentle, inquisitive and intelligent child,” says his mom. “He tested to be in a gifted program, but he wanted to stay at his regular school and be with his friends.”

Sam is the second of five children in the Burton Family. Throughout middle and high school, Holly says Sam didn’t identify himself as being gay, but later reasons that the guys he admired back then probably were crushes. He told her, “Our culture never provided me with a healthy framework to even conceive of being gay, so it was easy to dissociate and convince myself it wasn’t so.” Sam had lots of friends who were girls, but no girlfriends. Holly now laughs, “I always just thought he was so pure, he wasn’t going to kiss anyone before his mission.” Indeed, as he prepared to serve, Sam’s stake president told his parents, “I interview a lot of missionaries before they leave and really grill them – I want to tell you that Sam is one of the purest souls I’ve ever spoken with.”

Sam loved serving in one of the New York missions, and his friends and family loved receiving his “wonderfully entertaining letters.” Halfway through his mission, Sam began having what he thought were heart problems. He was put through a series of tests, but came to realize he was experiencing severe anxiety attacks. Sam was coming to the realization that he was gay and the cognitive dissonance that it created caused his body to react. He came out to a LDS services therapist as well as his mission president.

Unfortunately, telling his mission president is something Sam later regretted. His mission president approached Sam being gay as a problem to be fixed, a sin to be repented of, and proceeded by meeting with Sam regularly to help him determine what was preventing him from accessing the Atonement to help him be made straight. As a pretty straight-laced kid, Sam was unable to come up with answers that merited such a repentance process. Sam’s mission president advised him not to tell his family he was gay, so they remained unaware of what he was going through. After two years, Sam returned home to Holladay, UT, and began school at BYU Provo, where he found a good therapist. He found these sessions very helpful.

Soon after school started that fall, Sam met his mom for a last minute lunch at Thanksgiving Point. Over a table at Costa Vida, Sam shared a significant spiritual experience from his mission that happened during a time when he was in a particularly dark place. He was sitting outside his apartment on a fire escape feeling alone and without hope. As he prayed, he felt a great peace and these words came into his mind: “You are not broken. You are exactly who you should be. You are going to be okay.” This experience carried Sam for the rest of his mission until he returned home. On that day, after sharing this with his mom, he said, “You probably already know this, Mom, but I’m gay.” Taken back, Holly replied, “Wow. I didn’t know that. This is big… Just know I love you and that makes absolutely no difference.”

When Holly got back to her car, she had an overwhelming feeling of, “I wish it were yesterday. I wish I could go back in time.” While she was so grateful her son had shared this news with her, she says, “I was worried. I didn’t feel like this is end of the world horrible. But more like all those expectations and dreams I had for him are gone, and he’s going to have a different life, and I was mourning that. Things will be different – for this kid whose kindness, patience, and compassion are gifts. We thought he would be the best husband and father. And at that time, I thought that’s not going to happen for him. Now, my thinking has flipped – he will be the best husband and father, but it won’t be with a woman. And I’m completely okay with that.”

Sam had asked his mom to let him be the one to tell his dad, Brent, which presented a challenge for Holly who always shared her thoughts and feelings with her husband – especially big news. That night, as she was making dinner, Brent caught her in an emotional moment and asked what was wrong. She said, “I heard news about a friend who is going through some hard things. I can’t share the details, but I’m feeling sad.” Sam reached out to her that night to make sure she was alright, saying, “I’ve had a long time to process this mom…I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” Holly says, “Sam was still Sam. His love and empathy still came through.” Over the next couple weeks, Holly found herself processing alone, with many nights spent crying in the bathroom by the kitchen -- a place no one would hear her. She urged Sam to tell his dad, completely confident Brent would respond the right way. And he did. Later, Brent said, “This is Sam we’re talking about – one of the best people we know. We know this isn’t a choice.” While Holly and Brent were united in love and support for their son, they then faced the questions that flood so many parents in this space: What does this mean? For our son, for this church, for these people? Where is their place?

Initially, Sam considered the idea of remaining celibate, or alone, and staying in the church. But his family watched as he spiraled into depression, devoid of hope. “God did not make us to be alone,” says Holly. “Especially Sam – who has so much love to offer, so much to share.” Brent initially struggled, wondering “What kind of God would do this to someone? It just seems cruel to give someone a testimony of God’s plan, only for them to realize that one of the end goals in that plan is not possible for them.” Holly ‘s first thoughts were, “Of course this is going to change! If this really is Jesus Christ’s church, it will have to. He has a plan for ALL his children. I’m just waiting for the further light and knowledge!” Though she hopes she’s not being naïve.

Sam remained at BYU, where Holly says loving, affirming professors in his undergraduate program offered Sam the support he needed. “They didn’t love Sam because he was a gay student. They saw him for who he was – this amazing, talented kid. They gave him opportunities to succeed. He won awards, he presented papers, he taught undergraduate classes. He even went to DC to help a professor present their research at a conference.” She credits one professor in particular with offering the kind of support that she feels helped save her son’s life. In light of recent events, she hopes the BYU faculty will remain a safe space for kids like her son who so desperately need them to be.

Holly will never forget when she received a call from Sam one late night. She could hear it in his voice. He was not okay. She asked, “Are you thinking about hurting yourself, Sam?” His response quickly prompted her to drive down and take him to the ER where they met with the psych department. A nurse asked Sam to explain what was going on. “I’m a gay man; I go to BYU.” “Say no more,” the nurse replied. Together, Sam’s support team made a game plan. He started to turn to music, specifically the BYU piano practice rooms, where he’d escape whenever he needed to destress.

It was a short time later that Sam asked his parents, “What would you do if I ever married a man?” They told him, “We’d be completely supportive and love him just like we love you. He’d be a part of our family.” Once Sam realized he had his parents’ full support, Holly says they saw a weight lift from him. He felt hope. Sam is now thriving at UT Austin where he was granted a teaching fellowship and is now pursuing his masters in Media Studies. He plans on being a professor someday. Recently, out of respect to his parents, Sam told them of his intention to have his records removed from the church, feeling he can no longer “in good conscience have (his) name on the records of a church that treats people this way.” Although, he fully respects his parents’ choice to try to stay in the church, serve, and hopefully make a difference.

Holly is serving as a stake Young Women’s president. She strongly believes we should lead with love instead of fear on these issues. She says, “By listening to others -- really listening, we can build bridges and come to understand different lived experiences unlike our own.” She flies a Pride flag not as a political statement, but to show her love. She has often felt the presence of her beloved father, who passed away three years ago, and she hears his spirit reminding her to “Be fearless. Trust in the Lord and know that this is all so much bigger than we can even comprehend.” She believes we need less judgment and more love. “My job is not to judge. I believe that is the Savior’s job. Our job as members of His church is to love.” She wishes we had better training for church leaders on these issues. “Probably the best thing leaders can learn to do is to listen to LGBTQ people.” Her bishop did exactly this with Sam. Holly was so touched by how their bishop just listened to Sam and asked questions -- for hours. He was then inspired to plan a fifth Sunday meeting where he invited Samuel (as the main speaker) to share his experiences, and Holly and Brent and two other parents of an LGBTQ child, to share theirs as well.

What Holly hopes for most right now in this space is that we can shift the narrative so that when a LDS parent’s child comes out, the parents don’t see this as devastating, but see their child as a gift. She says, “The LGBTQ people I know are incredible. They are amazing! I know we say we have a place for them, but our doctrine is not so clear about that place. At least not a place or space that many can live with. By not having or creating that space, we’re losing out. We’ve lost so many people – not just those who have stepped away, but literal lives have been lost over this. It is heartbreaking to me! These are people who have so much to offer. Sometimes we have to ask hard questions – and more importantly listen to the answers. When we really listen to LGBTQ people, we see them, we understand them, and it is then that we are better able to fully love them.”