EDUARDO
UTAH | SERIES 2
I was adopted at the age of five and raised in the Mormon church. Ninth grade was when I accepted that I was gay. And yet, I continued to struggle. I knew who I was, and I knew who the church wanted me to be. And I knew that these two versions of me couldn’t exist at the same time.
At the beginning of March 2017, my dad asked me if I was still “confused” and if I was still unbelieving in the Church. When I said yes, my dad told me that I was disrupting the “Spirit” in our home and that I could change or I could leave. A few weeks later I left to stay with a friend and his family.
I did have to let go of the Church and leave my home. It is difficult. But I no longer have to lie about who I am. And although things aren’t perfect, I’ve never felt more happy or free.
I was born in Salt Lake City and lived with my birth parents until the age of three before I was introduced to the foster care system. I was placed in a group home and was in and out of different foster homes until I was adopted at the age of five; after that I was raised in the Mormon church.
By the time I was in fourth grade, I knew something about me was different. I developed a crush on my male best friend. At that point I didn’t know what gay was or that people could be gay; I just thought that this was what you felt for your best friend.
This confused me because these feelings were what all the other boys talked about when talking about their girl crushes. I never talked to anyone about it. I knew it was something that I would have to hide. Concealing it was difficult because I didn’t know exactly what I was trying to conceal and for what reasons.
Hiding my feelings was especially difficult because of how different my interests were compared to my brother or cousins. They would go outside and chase each other around while I would go to my other cousin’s room and play Polly Pocket dolls with her. I’d also spend my days inside making bracelets and wake up extra early on Saturday mornings before anyone else to watch “Totally Spies” and other shows which were typically meant for girls.
It wasn’t until sixth grade when a girl came out as bisexual that I thought, Maybe I’m not as different or alone as I originally thought I was. This gave me hope that eventually I could come out once I figured everything out.
It was in eighth grade when I came out as bi and had my first boyfriend. When I was with him, I felt at peace and I was so happy; I liked him more than I liked anyone else. This was also when the bullying started.
People said all sorts of things to me, calling me a “faggot,” telling me that it would be better if I killed myself, and that I should do myself a favor before someone really hurt me. During this time of struggle, I couldn’t turn to my family or people in the church because I was taught that I chose this just like every other gay person.
What I internalized from all of this was that this was somehow my fault, and I ended up self-harming and doing drugs, which only hurt me more.
Ninth grade was when I accepted that I was gay. And yet, I continued to struggle. I knew who I was, and I knew who the church wanted me to be. And I knew that these two versions of me couldn’t exist at the same time.
I came out to my parents and told them I no longer believed that the Church was true at the beginning of 11th grade. My dad told me that I was “confused” and brought the Bishop over. I got the same reaction from him. He told me that it was just a temptation with which Satan was trying to take me away from the Church, and if I acted on these feelings it would be a sin.
Then, everything died down and nothing was said for over a year.
Eventually, my mom came around and was able to fully accept that being gay is just another part of who I am. I was able to be more open with her and our relationship grew stronger because of that. But, my dad wouldn’t do the same.
At the beginning of March 2017, my dad decided to bring it up again. He asked me if I was still “confused” and if I was still unbelieving in the Church. When I said yes, my dad told me that I was disrupting the “Spirit” in our home and that I could change or I could leave. Thinking about it, I had only received negativity towards the LGBT+ community from the Church up until this point, which only assured me that I had to stop living this double life of concealing who I was. I knew at that point that I could no longer lie about who I am. I immediately started looking for a place to go, and a few weeks later I left to stay with a friend and his family.
I did have to let go of the Church and leave my home. It is difficult. But I no longer have to lie about who I am. And although things aren’t perfect, I’ve never felt more happy or free.
