Nobody knows what to do about queer Mormons. The institutional Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints prefers to pretend they don’t exist, that they can choose their way out of who they are, leave, or at least stay quiet in a community that has no place for them. Even queer Mormons don’t know what to do about queer Mormons. Their lived experience is shrouded by a doctrine in which heteronormative marriage is non-negotiable and gender is unchangeable. For women, trans Mormons, and Mormons of other marginalized genders, this invisibility is compounded by social norms which elevate (implicitly white) cisgender male voices above those of everyone else.
This collection of essays gives voice to queer Mormons. The authors who share their stories—many speaking for the first time from the closet—do so here in simple narrative prose. They talk about their identities, their experiences, their relationships, their heartbreaks, their beliefs, and the challenges they face. Some stay in the church, some do not, some are in constant battles with themselves and the people around them as they make agonizing decisions about love and faith and community. Their stories bravely convey what it means to be queer, Mormon, and marginalized—what it means to have no voice and yet to speak anyway.
There are a lot of different voices crammed into this collection of LGBTQ experiences from marginalized (non-cis-male) genders. The essays were mostly short, like 1-5 pages. They had themes of loss and depression and struggle, with occasional appearances of hope. This was not just a collection of white lesbian women's experiences; there were also experiences from trans men, trans women, non-binary/agender people, and bisexual and ace people. Some essays were simple reflections, special for their unique perspective. Other essays were the same stories we've been hearing about LGBTQ people in the church, but told in a way that made their pain hurt afresh. Reading these stories and feeling the pain of exclusion from our LGBTQ siblings is one way that we can mourn with those who mourn (or celebrate finding new joys in new identities).
It is very difficult to summarize a history of LGBTQ discrimination in the LDS church, and I wasn't satisfied with the few pages in the introduction--I should probably read Tabernacles of Clay ("marriage continued to be considered fundamentally requisite for salvation" --there is a difference between salvation and entering the highest degree of the celestial kingdom, but yeah, it sucks). I didn't read this book for its historical content; the essays themselves really shine, and the way they are organized helps the book have structure.
Here are some of my favorite quotes: "One of the strange aspects of being a queer Mormon comes in reconciling the disconnect between the church's utter rejection of your nontraditional relationships and identities and the fact that Mormon ontology is fundamentally inseparable from nontraditional relationships and identities. These "peculiar people" who travelled across the plains with oxen and handcarts to practice polygamy, who thought nothing of sister wives who formed pair bonds in the sacred absence of husbands, these are the same ones who tell us that a queer marriage is somehow worse than attempted murder. That our love is apostasy." (Kerry Spencer Pray, "Ordinary Magnificent, "81)
"It's getting harder, but I believe that Heavenly Mother and Father accept Their queer children as they are, and that, if church leaders are receptive, They will guide us in the right direction. And if it gets to be too much, emotionally, I'll stop going, and it will be hard, because I'll be separated from something that has been a major part of my life. But ultimately, my relationship with my Heavenly Parents is the most important thing, and I feel strongly that They are rooting for me." (Jasper Brennan, "A Conversation I'll Never Have," 116)
"Mormonism is my ocean. For all its power, for all the ways it has crushed me and tumbled me, for all the times it has blued my lips and numbed me to its freezing water, I can't stop coming back to it. It is my mythos in the same way as my memories of the frigid waters of my childhood, full of nostalgia and longing. Like the sirens it calls me back, even though I know it can and will swallow me whole, its alluring promises leaving me dazed." (Abby Kidd, "The Ocean That Shaped Me," 121)
This is such an important book. Not only has the Mormon church systematically marginalized people of different genders than the accepted male or female or of different sexualities outside of heterosexuality but they wound these minority groups continually with systematic homophobia and conversion therapy in the form of religious therapy.
The three “solutions” the church gives to gay members are to either remain celibate for their whole life, get married to a person of the opposite sex and have babies anyway regardless if you’re attracted to them, or three, and probably not the intention but is implied: Get out. This is insulting and deeply painful for members whose whole world has been in the church since birth. Their family is in the church-they can’t “just leave”.
There needs to be more conversations about this-the support groups that are already in place for queer Mormons is a good start.
So many beautiful and heartbreaking stories, so varied in life circumstances and how who they are has related to their faith. A must read for anyone navigating life between their gender and sexuality and their faith.
This was a heartbreaking read that I found myself nearly unable to put down. I would almost have read it all in one sitting if not for the very heavy subject matter in some of the essays--I had to put it down to take a breather a few times. Reading personal essays-- especially from queer Mormons of marginalized genders (these stories are primarily told by trans men and women, cis women, and nonbinary individuals)--is powerful in approaching an understanding of what our queer brothers and sisters, children, parents, and friends have suffered and continue to suffer.
As a collection of writings from nonprofessional writers, I was impressed with how accessible and readable it was--a mark of thoughtful compliling/editing. I do wish this book had some sort of a conclusion, some discussion about how to try to make sense of all this or what possible next steps might be taken. But, appropriately, the stories are left largely to speak for themselves, with only brief introductions from the editors/compilers. Because there is no one answer--just a lot of pain. This book's primary purpose is to carry queer Mormon stories as they are, in all their diversity, messiness, and sorrow. That is part of what makes it such a powerful collection.
As a person who does her best to love and care about others, the fact that these voices continue to be silenced and ignored is unacceptable to me. This dark side of the LDS Church is one that every member needs to confront, and this volume is certainly eye-opening in that regard. I wish everyone would read this and hold the Church as an institution accountable for past and continued harm they are doing. But--and I hate to say it--I'm not holding my breath.
This was a difficult book to read. The essays written from individuals within the context of the LDS church show strength and courage. Many of these individuals have left the church, some chose to stay and to hear their experiences and explanations taught me much about their silent struggle. These essays were written by marginalized individuals (these stories are primarily told by trans men and women, cis women, and nonbinary individuals of varying nationalities) and their goodness shines through. Most of them have figured out their value in the world, some are still figuring it out. This is not a book you can rush through. While the essays themselves are short, they are heavy. The author acknowledges this and suggests you take breaks when needed. Breaks were needed. I am glad I read this book and understand more fully what the silent struggles are. Those who wrote essays in this book are so very brave.
The essays are gems. They sparkle with humanity and they gleam with tears. They deserve all the stars. Each essay is a tiny window into an array of diverse experiences. I cried more than once.
The table of contents surprised me when I saw that this little book has five introductions: one for the whole book and then one for each section. So many introductions! It turned out to be a genius way to organize the book. Each brief introduction gave the essays context without getting too long and academic.
Because the essays and introductions are all so short, there is more blank space on the pages than most other books. That seems altogether fitting for a book titled "I Spoke to You with Silence".
A collection of moving essays by diverse queer Mormons on themes of identity and relationships — to others, to the church, to God, and to the self. Variously heartbreaking, hope-giving, infuriating, and revealing, these personal narratives are witnesses that I wish all Mormons — and those outside the faith tradition wishing to better understand the intersection of queerness and Mormonism — would read. I especially appreciate how this project centers the voices of Mormons of marginalized genders and orientations, when so often conversations about and by gay Mormons focus on white cis gay men, in some sense reproducing some of the traditional and repressive power hierarchies of Mormonism.
It’s always frustrated me that conversations about queer Mormonism tend to be dominated by the approved poster children (aka cis white gay men) who only echo the words of the church handbook. The stories in this collection are exactly what we need to be highlighting instead. They’re nuanced and honest and are written by people who don’t have the power that the church already offers those poster children. I really believe that the church would become a much kinder, better place if every member read this book.
This book was really insightful and I learned a lot about the experiences of queer Mormons. I was surprised as I read it because most of the essays were authored by those who are still religious and still consider themselves devout Mormons even though church teaching essentially says that’s impossible. It was extremely eye opening, but some of the essays are just so painfully sad.
This is a hard book to read. I had to put it down a lot and walk away. I don't have much else to say other than you need to read this. Four stars because it's not long enough and yet too long and also I would've liked more commentary and analysis, but it also is just great as is. If you are or ever have been Mormon, read this.
I mean I am biased because I contributed to the book, but a great collection of essays and stories on what it is like at the intersection of being Queer and Mormon.
Essay 19, Kerry Spencer Pray's "On Cleaving," is required reading for anyone attempting to understand the queer mormon experience, whether they're inside the church or not.
Saw myself and my family represented here in beautiful and valuable ways. I wouldn't be surprised if this book is more "mirror" than "window" for most Mormon women.