“Being Bi: What is lost/gained when passing as straight?”

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We are delighted to bring you these thoughts from Timothy D, who wrote an endorsement for the book Gay LDS Crossroads. Timothy identifies as bisexual, and joined the church at age 27. Marci asked him, “"What is lost and what is gained when an LDS bisexual individual marries an opposite gender person and 'passes' as straight?” Timothy responded with these insightful comments:

There are many personal answers to this question, and naturally my experience won't correlate with other Saints who are bisexual. Let's start with what is lost. Items in this category are bolded. 

What can be lost is an ability, an opportunity, to share your sexual identity with your opposite-gender spouse. Not every queer Saint who marries an opposite-gender spouse knows at the time of their engagement or sealing that they are "not straight." Some realize it later into the marriage or, due to societal, family, and/or church policy and culture pressures, suppress their true sexual identity until it becomes too suffocating. This was my experience. As a convert in my mid-20s, I accepted on faith much of the church's doctrine, and stored away my sexuality until I felt that it was becoming harmful to my emotional, spiritual, and mental life. It also felt like I was perpetuating a massive con in my marriage. So, another thing that can be lost in such situations is a deeper, more honest, and more open relationship with one's opposite-gender spouse. I know that is true for me. 

Another thing that can be lost is self-confidence, healthier mental and emotional state, and spiritual progress. I spent a lot of time beating myself up mentally and emotionally. Why was I queer? Why did I join this conservative church with its well-known stance on LGBTQ rights and people, if I myself knew I was queer going into the conversion process? I knew myself to be “different” starting at age 11, although it took awhile for me to understand that I was bisexual.

I lost time. I got lost in regret, second-guessing, melancholy. It was a spiral of negativity in which I lost greater happiness personally and within my marriage and family, because I was emotionally and mentally (but not physically) escaping away from those closest to me. I was replaying times past. I sometimes longed for a life untethered to church policy and heteronormative worldview. My mind wandered to unhealthy places wherein I could imagine a far different, unconventional, and self-indulgent life of what appeared/could appear to be sexual liberation by being unmoored to the commitments I made to God and my spouse. 

At times, I relate to the musician David Bowie. His first stage alter-ego was Ziggy Stardust in 1972. Made Bowie a rock star. But this fame, driven by portraying an androgynous space alien, became too much. At his height of initial stardom, Bowie had a really hard time distinguishing, knowing, where Ziggy ended and Bowie the person began: on-stage, in interviews, in photo shoots, in his real-life interactions with fans, journalists, and his friends.

My own mental gymnastics sometimes have led to an alter-ego of my own, which I don't share or display publicly. But in this alter-ego persona, I am the most famous bisexual Latter-day Saint there is - being interviewed, being seen as a source or even THE source on bisexual Saints, being extremely open about who I am. But like Ziggy Stardust and Bowie, this alter-ego could take me too far. I could indulge in the fame of being THE most out bi Saint around, and then get drunk on stardom and succumb to all of the regular pressures and enticings that come with fame. 

One line in Bowie's song "Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars" speaks to this internal clash, before Bowie personally experienced it. It was like Bowie was foreshadowing his own personal turmoil: "When the kids had killed the man, I had to break up the band." One year after introducing Ziggy, Bowie "retired" or "killed" Ziggy, in a sense, on-stage. So deep was the web of Ziggy and Bowie that the press and fans didn't know if Bowie was no more, or just Ziggy. 

I liken this conflict to my own life. Where does alter-ego Tim end and real Tim begin and end? In these moments, I often realize that I am introverted and committed to my marriage and family. The glamour and fame are not lasting. I choose to work on my own life and self. I choose to focus on improving and being present in the little world I helped to create with my spouse in our marriage and family. 

Other things that can be lost: A stronger trust with one's bishop. I have not confided in my bishop about my queerness. I personally don't think it's his business, as I am not straying from the covenants I made. Also lost are more meaningful friendships, in the sense that people don't know the "real" Tim. But don't we all walk around hiding parts of ourselves from others? There's the "three faces" model: one face you show to the world; one face you show to your closest family and friends; and a third face is the one you don't show anyone, because it is the truest reflection of who you are - and to show it to anyone brings great risk of personal hurt. Lost opportunities to express your true self is another thing lost when a bisexual Saint marries an opposite-gender spouse. 

Obviously, sometimes, one can lose their marriage. One can lose their testimony. One risks losing their spiritual anchor to their ward, ward family, and callings. The term "straight passing privilege" can be damaging: I benefit from passing as straight, but it makes me feel like I'm pulling something over on the people I interact with. It makes me feel like I am losing or giving up a sense of my true self in order to benefit from passing as straight. Everyone assumes I am heterosexual. I outwardly display a straight life. But I lose the ability to hit "pause" and tell people, "These are outward facts of my life - my wife and kids, my conventional way of dressing." But I'm really not straight." 

I also lose energy by wondering, "Do I sound gay? Do I walk or talk 'not straight'? Do people notice when I check out that woman or that man?" 

I lose presence in conversation because I am self-consciously aware of how long I should look at someone, to make sure I'm on the correct side of "I'm paying attention to you" and not veering into "I'm staring into your eyes and checking your body out due to sexual desire." 

* * * 

Now, what can be gained when a bisexual Saint marries an opposite-gender spouse?

A temple sealing, covenanting with God and your spouse. Huge! I could say more about this, but my response would take up tons of time. It just felt right to me to be married in a temple and be united with my spouse in a covenant with our literal Father in Heaven. It felt right to take on higher responsibilities and trust that we could be blessed to a greater degree by being sealed in a temple.

Sexual gratification. If you're bisexual, you are obviously still attracted to opposite-gender persons. You gain ways of expressing sexual desire. You gain sexual release. You gain sexual intimacy with the person you love and are committed to the most. You gain bonding with one person in a way you cannot get with anyone else. You gain joy by physically and emotionally connecting through sexual activity. 

You gain an eternal family, in the eyes of the church. I'm very sure there are married queer people who believe that their own marriages/committed relationships with their queer partner will last forever. I sincerely hope that is true for their relationships, and that God is merciful and just for them. It wouldn't be heaven unless you are there with your spouse, whether straight or queer. 

You gain acceptance into "the club." You've punched all of the tickets in the eyes of the church: you married an opposite-gender spouse, so you can now strive for eternal exaltation as a forever family. You act straight. You dress straight. You sound straight. You are calling-worthy enough. You might be the typical family on the cover of the Ensign. You're one of the boys, or one of the girls. You fit convention, maybe not to a T, but enough so that no one spends a minute wondering whether you should be on the outside of "the club" looking in. White picket fence and all that, if that's what motivates you. 

You gain straight-passing privilege. See above. 

You could gain greater purpose in your own life. Marriage can have a way of focusing oneself on others (spouse, kids) that leaves less room for selfish desires and pursuits. 

For me, choosing to confide in my wife five years ago that I was/am bisexual was a huge move. It was risky, way out of my comfort zone. On a hypothetical map, my comfort zone would be the lush White Mountains, but I was facing relocation to the Sahara by sharing about my sexual identity. I stood to lose all of the gains listed above. But I did it anyway.

And my wife reacted with such grace. We both feel that this part of our journey together, as hard as it has been at times, has brought us closer. We can't afford to go through the motions of convention and a life of easy assumptions, not making time to talk and check-in about how we both are doing. Now we have clarity that there's an issue in our marriage that, should we shun it or disregard it, could lead to us losing all that we have gained together. We are aware that this has been the unfortunate result for other couples.

Because of my wife’s response and support, I have personally gained confidence to confide in others about my sexual identity. My wife’s sister knows and is the one person who asks me the most about LBGTQ+ issues and my experience. Most of my closest friends know. Co-workers know. Other queer Saints know. Friends in the church know. 

The woman who was pivotal in my conversion (and whom I dated for almost a year) knows I am bisexual. She is perhaps my most conservative, true-blue Latter-day Saint friend. Almost accepts teachings without a moment's hesitation (as I learned through our dating life, as well as our pre- and post-dating interactions). Yet this friend has surprised me with her inquisitiveness, support, and friendship. She and I have traded e-mails the last 18 months about LGBTQ+ topics. Through my confiding in others, I have gained some deeper friendships. Maybe I have gained broadening others' perspectives on LGBTQ+ people, especially for those friends who are fellow Saints. I have gained the feeling that I am making a difference by being vulnerable, telling people I am a queer Saint, and letting them sit with that new knowledge of me, reconciling that with everything else they know about me. 

I have gained that I feel emotionally and mentally stronger, in large part due to my opposite-gender spouse's support and love. I have gained (I hope) greater empathy for my wife's challenges and moments of vulnerability.    

I have gained that I am still here. I have thankfully never experienced a moment of suicidal thoughts. What I mean by "I am still here" is that I am still married, still in the church, still devoted to my children, still on this journey, still able to be real Tim during my moments of alter-ego Tim. I am still accepting that I am bisexual. I am no longer hiding it to the degree I did before; I'd like to be more out, and trust that will come in time.

-Timothy D.