Will They Ever Say “Sorry”?

I'm frankly embarrassed by the number of conversations I’ve had with my parents over the last year that have ended with me crying. I thought becoming an adult meant I’d be less dependent on them, including less dependent on their approval for my emotional wellbeing. Maybe that’s naïve, maybe I’ll never stop craving my parents’ respect no matter how old I get. But nothing makes me feel like more of a child than walking around Provo and ugly crying while talking to my parents on the phone. 

Our fights usually start either because of my gender identity or my sexual orientation. I feel like the cliché of every LDS parents’ nightmare, queer in all directions. But regardless of the starting point, the conversations usually follow the same pattern: at some point I ask them if they think that my identity or my relationship with my girlfriend is immoral. They refuse to give me a straight answer, saying they’ll think about it more and get back to me later. Later hasn’t happened yet. 

It always boils down to that. I just want to hear that they’re not disgusted by me because right now I’m not so sure.

Our latest quarrel was between just my mom and me. It was about my girlfriend and the conversation went the way they always do until she went off-script. We usually both take the offensive but this time she stepped down to raise a white flag and call a truce for the night. 

“This is all new to me, I’m just learning.” By ‘this’ she meant everything under the LGBTQ+ umbrella. 

At the time I thought her excuse was ridiculous and continued to berate her. Did she think that millennials invented queer people? Even if she never heard of Sappho on the island of Lesbos, the Stonewall uprising happened during her lifetime. 

But as I think back on that moment—my mother’s words and my harsh reaction—I think for her it is more of a process of unlearning than learning. She was taught things about queer people before she knew I’d be her kid. 

There’s a section on the second floor of the BYU library that sheds light on some of the things that members of the Church have taught about people like me over the years, things my mother might’ve learned. The section is devoted to LDS teachings on sexuality and in it, I recognize titles from my parents’ and grandparents’ bookshelves. 

One of those familiar titles is The Miracle of Forgiveness by Spencer W. Kimball, a book he wrote while one of the twelve apostles before he became President of the Church. In the book, Kimball writes about homosexuality in a chapter titled “Crime Against Nature,” calling it “an ugly sin, repugnant… embarrassing and unpleasant as a subject for discussion.” Since its publication, other general authorities have encouraged Church members to read the book—President Ezra Taft Benson in 1988 and Elder Richard G. Scott in 1995. 

Kimball released the book in 1969, the same year that police raided the Stonewall Inn, a gay bar in Greenwich Village. While Stonewall is considered a key moment in the LGBTQ+ liberation movement and is commemorated each June with Pride Month, my mom said she didn’t know it existed until a few years ago. But when I asked about The Miracle of Forgiveness, she had a stronger memory. It seems to me as though my mom’s education on the LGBTQ+ community has been taught by Church leaders. I think those are the teachings that she is unlearning. 

And those ideas didn’t just come from Kimball. In that section of the library, there were books by other LDS authors, titled things like Resolving Homosexual Problems: A Guide for LDS Men, Understanding Male Homosexual Problems: An Introduction for Latter-day Saints, or Born That Way? A True Story of Overcoming Same-Sex Attraction, with Insights for Friends, Families, and Leaders.

While I’m sure that my parents were also taught homophobic ideas elsewhere throughout their lives—the Church doesn’t have a monopoly on homophobia or transphobia—my experience has shown that teachings by Church members and leaders carry a significant amount of weight, for better or for worse. After my dad read Tom Christofferson’s book That They May Be One: A Gay Mormon’s Perspective On Faith, he seemed more open to the idea that I might someday marry a woman. 

With the Church’s strong influence in mind, I think that current Church leaders should apologize for and publicly disavow harmful teachings by previous apostles and prophets.

This may seem like I’m beating a dead horse because the Church’s teachings on sexuality and gender aren’t as egregious as they used to be, they no longer teach that homosexuality can be cured. But quietly removing books from publication or words from Church manuals will not remove those ideas from the minds that were taught them. An apology from the Church for their previous teachings would do more to change my parents’ minds than I think my tears ever will. 

Dallin H. Oaks has already addressed this point and said in a 2015 interview that the Church would not apologize for past rhetoric on homosexuality. He said “We sometimes look back on issues and say, ‘maybe that was counterproductive for what we wish to achieve,’ but we look forward and not backward.”

But I don’t feel like I’m asking Church leaders to look backwards. The words of Church officials are never said within a vacuum but instead are absorbed and carried on by members, affecting their interactions with the world and others. Those hurtful words Kimball wrote in 1969 have been passed on through my family and Church leaders to reach me today in 2021. 

One problem is that harmful words by General Authorities haven't just been limited to LGBTQ+ people. I could see Church leaders being concerned that apologizing for their teachings about LGBTQ+ people would set a precedent where they would also need to apologize for their teachings about Black people, Native and Indigenous people, sexual assault survivors, people with addiction, among other groups. 

But I don’t think that setting a standard for apologizing when we hurt people is a bad thing. And apologies would signal to members what is and isn’t Church doctrine, set an example for how others deserve to be treated, and create a more welcoming environment within the Church. 

I am not holding the Church responsible for mending my broken relationship with my parents, nor do I think that an apology would magically fix it. But Church leaders could be doing more to ease the pain of those who have been hurt by their words. They could be doing more to actively stop those words from spreading. And while an apology won’t heal all the pain that has been sowed, it’s a damn good place to start.