Eight years ago, my life
changed with the push of a button.
I had recently turned 39 and
was seriously questioning what I was doing with my life. I was working in St.
George, Utah at the time on a travel assignment when I had one of the most
profound, eye-opening, life-altering experiences of my life. It was just a few
weeks before the end of my assignment there and then I would be returning home
to Salt Lake. But I was feeling restless, unsettled. I felt like I just needed
to go somewhere and do something out of the ordinary. I was close enough to Las
Vegas that I thought I would just go down on a whim and spend a couple of nights
there over the weekend. (I should emphasize at this point, I’m a planner – this
is NOT like me!)
I had no interest in gambling,
or shows, or “the strip” in general, so I was looking at other places and found
a good deal at the Golden Nugget, which was also not too far from the Outlet
stores, so I thought I would just walk around, do some shopping, and just
generally relax. The Golden Nugget, as I would come to learn, was also on Freemont
Street. Now, back in the day, there was something called the “Freemont Street
Experience.” At the time, they only did it once a month, and I just happened to
book my stay that same weekend.
Essentially, they shut down
Freemont Street to any traffic and allow people to roam up and down the street,
visiting the bars, shops, vendors, etc. Stages had been set-up at each end of
the street and bands would play. Down a large portion of the street overhead displays
were set-up and would show videos/light shows timed to music. And in case that
wasn’t enough, there were two stretches where you could zipline down the middle
of the street! At the time you had to have a wrist band to prove you were over
21, which I thought was “alcohol” related (and I’m sure that was part of it),
but also because there were street performers. I ain’t talking clowns and
magicians here – this is still Vegas, after all. There were shirtless cowboys
giving lap dances; winged, bikini-clad female dancers, also giving lap dances,
among other people wearing racy costumes – all of which could be enjoyed, or get your photo taken with, for a little
donation, of course!
Normally, this would have been
a little bit much for a good, little Mormon boy from Salt Lake, like me, but something
was different this time. It didn’t feel evil, or even scandalous, it felt… fun?
One of the reason’s I felt like I just needed to “get away” was because of how
much I was struggling to understand my sexuality. I knew that I was “in the
closet” at that point, but that I was still doing “all the right things,” (church,
temple, etc.) and that – even though I genuinely felt blessed for doing those
things, I also felt miserable, stuck – trapped really, and I didn’t know how to
come to terms with what I “felt” (being attracted to men) and what I “knew”
(that I was going to hell for being attracted to men).
Even now, I don’t know if I
can describe my thought process. I saw what was going on around me and wanted
to be a part of it somehow. I went back to my room, freshened up, got a bunch of cash, and acknowledged that because
I had felt something inside me telling me that I just needed to “get away,” that
I was just going to enjoy this night and maybe more importantly, I was going to
LET myself enjoy it WITHOUT judgment.
And enjoy it I did! (No, I did
NOT get a lap dance, because I’m still pretty shy, BUT I got pretty close!) Reflecting
on that experience, part of the enjoyment was the anonymity. I didn’t know anyone
there and no one knew me. They didn’t know “who I was” on the regular day to
day. They didn’t know me with any labels. More importantly, they didn’t know my
past or what I was struggling with internally.
This was the first time in my
life that I felt like I could just be me.
I got my picture taken with
several of the street performers – male and female alike – and I loved it! The
only real challenge that night was trying to find other people to take pictures
for me with my phone, but people were friendly and great and more than willing to
help me out.
During all of this “letting my
proverbial hair down,” one moment stands out in particular. One of the vendors
had been watching me ask for pictures with a bunch of the male dancers walking
around. I was standing by his cart at one point and he flat out asked me –
without any reservation – “are you gay?” It wasn’t a judgmental question. It
wasn’t dripping with disgust. He was genuinely curious about me. But no one had
ever asked me like that before, with that amount of candor. I hesitated for a split
second, but then nodded my head and said, “I am.” And the shackles around my
heart fell away. The weight of all the shame, guilt, and fear I had carried
with me for YEARS flew from off my shoulders. It was the first time I allowed
myself to admit it – to say it! And to say it out loud – without fear of retaliation,
without fear of being shamed or condemned? Well, it changed something within
me.
That night will go down as one
of the most influential experiences of my life. It was a turning point for me. Later
that night I went back to my hotel room and prayed. I thanked God for an experience
that I knew He had a hand in. It wasn’t accidental that I felt a need to get away.
It wasn’t circumstantial that I happened to be close enough to Las Vegas to get
away. It wasn’t coincidental that I was directed to stay at that particular hotel
on that particular street on that particular weekend. That whole night, I felt
a spiritual companionship that I still can’t fully explain. I didn’t feel dirty.
I didn’t feel depraved. I didn’t feel lost, confused, or condemned – basically all
of the things I would have expected to feel. I just didn’t.
I felt seen. I felt accepted.
I felt like I could be myself AND still be acceptable. I had never experienced
that before.
Which left me with a conundrum.
Sure, I could go to Vegas and “be myself” where no one knew me, but what about
when I go back home? It was heart wrenching in a way, because I now had had a
taste of a kind of freedom I had wanted my whole life, but was convinced wasn’t
possible for me. And yet, there it was. I had been “out,” I had been openly gay,
and I had been accepted, not just in spite of it, but BECAUSE of it. But could
I be that at home? Could I be that where people DID know me?
I ended my travel assignment and
headed back to Salt Lake City. On the one hand, my heart lightened for having experienced true "authenticity," but on the other hand, my heart was also a bit heavy in a way, fearful of
knowing what I needed to do…
I selected 2-3 close friends –
friends that I knew would be supportive, even if they couldn’t relate – and I came
out to them. I shared with them what I felt and who I really am. And they were
so kind and loving and I will never forget how much that meant to me. While it
felt liberating to a degree to finally be honest with a few people, I realized
that – even though I was “being honest” – it didn’t mean that I was being “authentic”
with myself. It was a little bit like opening up the closet door a bit and peeking
out. And I was terrified. Terrified to come out fully because it meant never
going back. It meant opening myself up to criticism, rejection, shame, punishment,
condemnation, being thrown out of the church – I mean, I just didn’t know what
the consequences were going to be or how hard it would be to navigate them. It
meant voluntarily giving up safety for the unknown.
But I did know something. God
knew ME. He led me to Freemont Street that night and stayed with me. He was
there when someone asked me if I was gay and he was there to hear me say, “I am.”
And He didn’t condemn me. He didn’t
punish me. He didn’t cast me off into outer darkness. Quite the opposite
actually. He supported me; He comforted me; He encouraged me. Ultimately, my
fears were not about God, my fears were about what I had been taught about how
God would see me. But what I had been taught, did not match my experience.
I sat down and I wrote. I poured
out my heart and expressed the understanding I had at the time. Then I copied
that into a blog post and waited for several minutes, my mind whirling, my
breath quickening, my heart racing. There would be no going back. One more quick,
silent prayer – than I clicked “publish.”
And there it was – in black
and white; publicly expressed for all the world to see. “Other types of closets,”
published on May 16, 2017, the day I formally came out of the closet; making
5/16 my “coming-out-of-the-closet-iversary,” or my “birthgay?” My “De-closeting
Day?” My “Gay Day?” I’m not sure what to call it yet! 😊
While I’ve chosen this date to
celebrate a turning point in my life, it certainly didn’t happen on just one
day. I wrestled with my heart, my mind, with God – and I struggled, for years,
to understand myself. Celebrating coming out of the closet isn’t just about “admitting”
I’m gay, it’s so much deeper. It’s about accepting myself as person, for who I
am, the way I am, without guilt, without shame, without judgment, criticism, or
condemnation – all of which are the negative practices I spent a lifetime “perfecting.”
And it is still a journey. I
still find deep-seated fears that need to be addressed. I still find new layers
of acceptance that need to be achieved. While I had previously seen that as “evidence”
that I wasn’t “there” yet (whatever that means), I realize now that those are
not proofs that I’m not okay, they are, in fact, proof that I am on the right
path – MY path, the path God meant for me to walk. Even though the road and the
obstacles and scenery are different from anyone else, I know it’s my path and I’m
grateful to be on it.
I’m not going to lie and say
that after I came out everything was wonderful. In fact, kind of the opposite. Coming
out made life harder because of the uncertainty; because I didn’t know how to “be
this way” in the world, when all I had known was secrecy, shame, and hiding myself
– my real self – from everyone. I’m still learning. I’m still growing. I’m
still changing. But I am so grateful today to be who I am. I am so grateful for
what I am learning on this journey and for finally finding peace within myself.
And I am grateful to God. I am grateful that He has not only understood me, but
encouraged me to be myself and to accept myself and has not once made me feel
like I was someone deserving of punishment or condemnation. No one has ever
punished me for “being me” more than I have.
I am learning to overcome that
deep-seated, learned self-hatred. I am learning what compassion, love, acceptance,
and forgiveness really mean. It will take more time, but I am also learning to
offer myself what I have never been able to do before – unconditional love.
I just needed to come out of the
closet to find it.
Enjoy some photos of my Freemont
Street Experience! 😊
