“Coercion cannot but result in chaos in the end.” – Mahatma Gandhi

In this current cultural moment, the LGBT-religious conservative conversation has become locked into a grinding debate about freedom: Whose liberty is being (more) threatened?  Who is imposing on whom?

As so often happen in “debate-mode,” each side gets overly focused on attempting to convince everyone that its reality is the only truly legitimate and sensible one….even if that attempt paints a deformed picture of another’s experience (“oh, when those conservatives say they’re worried about religious freedom, they’re really just wanting to discriminate”….”oh, when they say they just want the freedom to marry in the gay community, they’re really just looking for justification of a selfish lifestyle and a another way to stamp out Christianity from society”).

Those kinds of portrayals are not uncommon – and they each deform and distort the experience (and self-understanding) of the other side.  As a way to get past the mutual lack of acknowledgement, what if we admitted that freedom can mean different things and can feel threatened in different ways (depending on where we’re standing and the story we’ve embraced as true)?

If we did that and began to cultivate opportunities for vibrant understanding, I believe freedom could become a major point of common interest, shared agenda and real solidarity.

Imagine the following:

• Someone who believes that being gay is part of their core identity is respected in his/her freedom and space to explore what that means, without harsh or aggressive condemnation if that means they opt out of religious conservative ideals and institutions.
• Someone who experiences same-sex attraction (but does not identify with it as fundamentally), likewise has the freedom and space to explore what that means.
• Those who believe that LGBT questions are primarily a matter of civil rights, equality and justice, have the freedom to support that movement.
• Those who don’t see LGBT questions as a civil rights matter, also have the freedom to hold their own questions and concerns, without harsh or aggressive condemnation if that means opting out of progressive ideals and institutions.

Is that kind of mutual space possible?  “Live and let live….allow people to have the freedom to explore and believe what feels right”…sounds simple enough, right?

But obviously, it’s not.  It’s just not.

As we explore extensively in Chapter 5 of a Third Space, there are all sorts of complications related to contrasting narratives of freedom and coercion (see”Pressure: Who’s Imposing on Whom“).

For religious conservatives, the freedom for a gay-identifying man or woman to explore different life options can feel like a threat on their families or way of life (especially when those life options take individuals away from their religious community). And for the LGBT community, the freedom of religious conservatives to believe what they want can also feel like a threat on their families or way of life (especially when encouraging people to pursue identity construct outside of the gay community).

Hence, the pressure.  The force.  And sometimes, the aggression.

And once that pressure-cooker starts, we quickly start to grip to Stories of each other that only remotely resemble the real thing. Sometimes it seems as if we have some psychological need to see each other in our worst possible light, like the divorcing couple who cannot help but monster-ize the other.

But then again: If something or someone is seen or perceived as a real threat to any of our ways of life, isn’t it understandable that someone would want to fight? (either to defend themselves or attack the enemy…). And perhaps for this reason, even raising the specter of other life paths and options (either as alternatives to religious conservative or LGBT norms) can make some in each community feel disrespected, unsafe or vulnerable.

So what to do?  Is it possible to make all that pressure go away – in a way that doesn’t drive us all nuts?

Making space around pressure points.  I would propose that rather than create a new imaginary scenario where all goes right, it’s time to do something much more simple: together acknowledge the differences that already exist in how this all plays out in real people’s lives – describing them in a way that each side can accept.  This could happen in multiple domains; I’ve picked two here:

1. Two ways to “come out.” Coming out is usually taken for granted as an important and crucial step for people to accept. While there are some who highlight possible dangers in coming out[1] there are others who have sought to come out in a way that still sustains and affirms their religious conservative values and beliefs.

But to our point, the latter is hardly ever acknowledged.  What if we did?

I’ve written up a document to get started, reflecting actual differences across diverging narratives of coming out:  “Two ways to come out”

Let me know what you think! I’d love some feedback (jzhess@gmail.com).

2. Two ways to support a child with same-sex attraction. Another area where fundamental differences are hardly acknowledged is in ways to support a child experiencing same-sex attraction.

As with coming out, there seems, at times, to be One True Way promoted that reflects an inherently progressive worldview, leaving religious conservative parents at a loss of what to do.

Rather than require progressive conversion as part and parcel to loving a child with same-sex attraction, what if we acknowledged different kinds of support that parents may offer that aligns with their own values?

Along those lines, check out this document and let me know what you think:  “Two ways for parents to support a child identifying as lgbt/ssa”

Of course, there are more than two ways – and these two examples are of particular interest to religious conservatives (who feel limited space in these domains).  In parallel, we could talk about “two ways to be married” or “two ways to have a family” – as domains in which progressives feel limited space:  Can religious conservatives make more (human, relational) space for those conversations too?

In short, across all these possible examples, it’s important to be aware that the very contrasts outlined and proposed as helpful for space and freedom-making can be seen as threatening to someone else’s freedom. These are important questions that I don’t want to overlook. For instance, by making space for religious conservative experiences of working with same-sex attraction to be more prominently acknowledged and considered, what does that mean for the freedom of those who are identifying with same-sex attraction as more central to their core identity (in alignment with a progressive worldview)? Will that freedom for different views and options be harmful to them?

And by making space for progressive experiences of identifying with same-sex attraction – and embracing and following it out romantically – what does that mean for the freedom of religious conservative institutions who consider certain romantic pairings as ordained by God?  Will freedom for that option likewise become a threat to them?

In both cases, I don’t believe the threats are inherent – and feel persuaded personally that extending freedom to both sides would improve the well-being of everyone involved (even if it involves some growing pains at first).  Even so, all these kinds of questions – including doubt and skepticism about all of the above – deserve equal space in this conversation as well.

Moving beyond the single story:   Different interpretations, different choices, same space. The ideal I’m envisioning is one that allows for different choices, different stories – but all with the very same space.

By “same space” I mean space for all of the above:  multiple explanations, multiple decisions of what to do – and multiple life pathways.  The argument can be made that raising and imposing any single story for a person or a group of people can be dangerous (see a wonderful TED talk by novelist Chimamanda Adichie reflecting that point: “The danger of a single story“).

When only one story is being heard, the space for exploration and consideration can become limited and constrained – leaving little to no chance for critical thinking or open choice.

But if we made space for multiple stories, both progressive and conservative voice could be heard in their experiences – each making space for others to interpret similar events differently – and to make different choices about how to work with them.

So overall, here’s the formula I propose:  “More Space + Less Pressure = A less painful LGBT/Religious Conservative Conversation.”

What do you think?  Is this crazy talk – or a possible way forward?

As always, would love to hear your response.

Jacob Hess is the author of 13 peer reviewed articles exploring contrasting narratives of mental health and socio-political issues.  He currently directs the health non-profit All of Life which offers free online classes exploring applications of mindfulness for those facing mental health challenges. Jacob has (co)authored three books: You’re Not  as Crazy as I Thought, But You’re Still Wrong, Once Upon a Time…He Wasn’t Feeling It Anymore and A Third Space: Proposing Another Way Forward in the LGBT/Religious Conservative Impasse (Disagreement Practice, Treasonous Friendship & Trustworthy Rivalry in the Face of Irreconcilable Difference). Two other projects – Red Blue Dictionary and My Science Can Beat Up Your Science, will be released this fall.  His work with Phil Neisser at State University of New York has been featured on This American Life and was recently honored by Public Conversations Project. His many wonderful writing collaborators and dialogue partners disagree in all sorts of ways with Jacob’s religious conservative views, and this essay only represents his own convictions. As a proud partner of Living Room Conversations, the Village Square and a long-term member of the National Coalition of Dialogue & Deliberation, Jacob’s life work is dedicated to making space for thoughtful, good-hearted people to find understanding (and affection) while exploring together the deepest of disagreements.

Notes:

[1] This is another perspective I would argue deserves space to be heard as part of this ongoing conversation. It’s the less popular views that we’re most prone to quashing and ignoring…and the views that perhaps we need to be most proactive protecting.

 “My heart gets so incredibly heavy thinking of how much I used to love the church..”

One of the more painful sub-texts of the gay rights movement is the many people who feel compelled to step away from their previously-precious-faith as a result.

Those who do so typically experience this as a painful, but inescapable step in response to new insight, knowledge or compassion. Despite the acute trauma of newfound separation from loved ones, they tell me of trying earnestly to follow what they have come to believe as true.

Many hours of conversation with friends who have stepped away from my own faith community have helped me understand that they are seeking to follow a new truth they have embraced – no matter the excruciating costs.

Sound familiar, religious friends?  Former LDS President Gordon B. Hinckley famously told a story of a foreign man anticipating family and community retribution in his homeland after converting to Mormonism. When Hinckley asked, “Are you willing to pay so great a price for the gospel” the man responded, “It’s true isn’t it?  Then what else matters?”

The truth that some experience as driving them away from religious communities (like my own) revolves around newfound insight into the full, complete or true identity of loved ones who now consider themselves part of the LGBTQ community. For people on all sides of this conversation, the moment of “coming out,” in particular, is a singularly important pivot point – leading to many other shifts.

That moment is almost universally described and experienced as a new revelation regarding reality itself, aka ‘finally discovering who people truly really are.’  As I’ve written extensively about previously[1], it may also be just as accurate to characterize that coming out moment (like virtually all moments where significant shifts take place) as a moment of adopting a new narrative about reality.[2]

Adopting a new story.  One mother describes a conversation with her son where he finally poured out “years of grief and heartache and shame” in relation to his long-time feelings of same-sex attraction.  In her words, he had spent many years “wishing it wasn’t so, wanting to be just like ‘everyone else’ and knowing he was not.” She described her response:

“I assured him of our love and understanding, our unwavering support and loyalty, but when in absolute despair he said, ‘What’s the point of going on?’…. I had no answers. I could not advise him to keep coming to church, to hope for peace in the next life. If I had previously entertained any doubt that sexual preference was a choice, those doubts were completely erased as I held my sobbing teenager that night in the kitchen, as he chanted over and over, ‘I just want to be normal…get married, like everyone else.’ And all I could think of was, ‘What kid in their right mind would choose ridicule over acceptance, would choose to be a pariah in his own religious community?’ I received a firm conviction that night as I held him in my arms, that this was my beloved child and that our family would rally around him and support him, and we have.”

Different parents may respond in different ways depending on how they make sense of this moment. Certainly no one can begrudge this mother (or any parent) for doing whatever a child seems to need to stay alive.

That being said, this account also represents a vivid depiction of new convictions (about identity, sexuality, choice, eternity and faith) sweeping away old ones, as a New Story takes hold – (e.g., particular, resolute answers to all of the following: Any benefits from coming to church? Any degree of choice in working with sexual experience? Any viable path for marriage for her son in her faith community? Any ultimate hope for peace or reconciliation in the next life?)

New story = New world.  The impact of this New Story can be profound.  Describing her son’s coming out, this same mother writes: “I had to re-examine everything I had previously thought…I knew with certainty to be true. It upended my notions of truth, happiness, obedience, loyalty, and in fact all that I held dear, including my perception of the character of God. And I, for a long moment, wondered if I would be able to stay [in my faith]…All of my beliefs have been upended and rearranged.”

For both families and individuals themselves, the entire landscape in one’s life can shift. As one person put it: “All [previous] teaching about my identity…was WRONG! I had so many ideas of what I thought my life was going to be like, and who I was going to be, and how I was going to be that for the world and those people that I loved and had grown up with. And as I grew up and as I figured out more about myself and who I was, I began to realize that that person that I had been raised to be was not who I actually was” (FB-KA)

As one man tried to embrace his new identity, it seemed to require (for both him and his family) walking away from everything he had been taught to value – including man-woman marriage and his faith community itself: “When that happened, the whole world sort of came crashing down, not only for me but for them” (FB-BE).^[3]

Things that were previously beloved, such as religious ceremonies and community gatherings, may come to be experienced in strikingly new ways. One woman I know and respect writes, “Until I attended church and listened to General Conference [worship service] after learning that my son was gay, I seriously just never ‘heard’ the messages as damaging. I was devastated to hear through new ears.“ Whereas she had previous “loved conference,” now she was “crying through entire thing.” Another person writes, “My heart gets so incredibly heavy sometimes think of how much I used to love the church.” [Emphasis my own]

Not at home anymore.  As reflected above, the adoption of this New Story contributes to a feeling of being out-of-place in one’s formerly secure religious community:

• “I feel like I can’t express who I am and be who I am, being in the church…I feel like an outcast and I feel like I don’t know if that’s my home anymore I hope we can realize that there are many like us, many, and we’re all just trying to find our place and our home in the church because we love the gospel and we love the teachings but we’re not quite sure if that’s our home.” (FB-SH)
• “And that’s hard, not knowing where I belong. Not feeling like I belong in Church because I have the [same-sex] feelings…It’s ‘Where do I belong?  I don’t belong anywhere.’  It’s really hard – it’s lonely at times.” (FB-ME)

One man described mourning the loss of his faith community and all the associated dreams: “It was a really difficult time for me because with that coming out I felt like I had to leave behind a church that was important to me and had really been a grounding force in my life. Also, I figured there were friends I would have to leave behind because there is no way they could ever accept this in me. There were hopes and dreams I had of having a family and having a wife that I was going to have to leave behind. It was a very scary thing … feeling like my life was about to change and that I would have to leave my life behind and start a whole new life” (VH-DEC)

Irreconcilable dilemmas & impossible futures. Ultimately, these conflicts can be experienced by many as paradoxical and impossible to reconcile – “a sharp, painful dilemma, with the contrast in teaching about the church” (FB-CH). One person described feeling like only a few options remained: “One, I leave the Church and pursue a gay lifestyle, two, I stay in the Church and stay celibate my entire life, or three I stay in the Church and get married to a woman and have this really tough struggling marriage. I felt like a life in the Church while enduring same-sex attraction would have just been a life of misery” (VH-SB).

Based on this kind of a frame, it’s not hard to see why people may feel compelled to opt out of Old Stories and Old Ways.

While conflict may have existed for decades, people’s daily reality and lived experience may become even more impossible at this point (of heightened dilemma). After coming to identify as gay, one man spoke of the challenge of having “two conflicting identities.”  He recollected, “because of the irreconcilability, I spent a lot of my life in a depressed state kind of like trying to achieve an unobtainable task. I realized why people get depressed and suicidal because you’re constantly trying to resolve something that’s unresolvable” (FB-TI). 

Personal despair that won’t end in the future. For some, as reflected above, this seemingly impossible and inescapable dilemma can contribute to strong consideration of suicide.  Referring to his hopes of an orthodox Christian marriage, one man reflected, “There was this wonderful thing God was offering me, and I didn’t understand why He was offering it to me if it was so obviously unobtainable. I really started thinking about suicide, and I started thinking about it a lot” (VH-JO). Another added, “It’s hard to even go day by day. Not knowing how you’re going to reconcile this about yourself, how you going to create a life that is happy in any way?” (FB-H).

Illustrating this possibility, a third individual commented that the many messages he had been hearing that “this is just who you are and you just need to be yourself and be gay” had been part of fueling his desire to kill himself – specifically “not knowing that there were other options.”  This led him to excruciating (and seemingly unsolvable pain):  “I figured if I couldn’t have the life I wanted, and the life I could have wasn’t conducive to the gospel and the things that were important, then my only option was to kill myself.” (VH-DEC)

When this kind of acute sorrow is expressed publicly, it is almost always attributed to the fresh awareness of one’s identity – now, in painful conflict with rigid religious teaching. In other words, within this narrative, both suffering and suicide in the gay community are almost entirely blamed on religious conservative teaching.

Mounting pressure for dramatic change. Another man described the impact on his family relationships as he more fully embraced this new story about himself, “I fully started using the word gay. And I talked to [my wife] and told her that I was unhappy and things weren’t going great that I really needed to kind of figure this side of myself out or that I was just going to live an unhappy life and be depressed. Um. I was going to be a terrible father and a terrible husband, etc” (FB-CH).

One mother recounted what she experienced as a challenging dilemma between her loyalties to her son and her faith: “When my son came out to our family as gay eight years ago, my hurdle towards a major crisis of faith began…There is nothing like seeing a precious child in despair over the knowledge that the plan of happiness he had been taught to strive for, which included the opportunity for temple marriage and parenthood, the plan that is the bedrock of our theology, would be impossible for him to attain as his authentic self.“

If this is our Story of identity, sexuality, choice, change, biology, marriage, God and eternity – NO WONDER religious conservative anything quickly becomes pretty hard to stomach!?

Each passing week and month, confusion and anger can intensify. Each new comment and teaching from religious leaders can be taken as further damning evidence – aggregated, cataloged and broadcast in online groups that fuel the frustration in every direction. Even tragic reports of new suicides are packaged as (yet more) evidence of The Truth now clearly known.

Over time, an intense personal burden may come to be felt. One woman commented, “I lament each and every day that all are not welcome (in my faith community). It feels unbearable to me at times.” Church services, church messages, church members and church leaders come to be experienced as intolerable and painful – “I would hear these things that hurt me deeply” on person said. As frustration deepens, the Story becomes set firmly in place.

Isn’t the right decision obvious? At this point, leaving begins to be discussed as a ‘no-brainer’ thing that should be obvious: ‘why would you ever think of staying with those people?!’

The question becomes simple: ‘why someone would choose to remain in a religion that doesn’t embrace justice, equality, love, etc.’

And there you have it:  Done and Gone.

And just like that, many thoughtful and loving people have stepped away from faith communities like my own – convinced that they now see the (awful) truth about their formerly-precious faith community.

Do they?

Maybe.  Maybe not.  Either way, I’m not convinced we’re having an honest (enough) conversation about what’s happening that would allow us to really answer that question, or even just to see each other clearly.

By honesty, I mean acknowledging what different people and groups really think about sexuality, identity and related questions, in a way that each position is heard and understand.  I’ve done my best above to lay out my own narrative-oriented and religious conservative perspective about The Exodus – proposing it as a kind of developmental, socializing process happening somewhat beneath our full awareness.

It goes without saying, that the experience of anyone stepping away from a community like my own is multi-factorial and complex – and simply cannot be boiled down to any single factor or pattern…even if I’m right about all of the above. The last thing I want is to minimize the depth of these people’s experiences, including some of my own dear friends and family members.

Furthermore, in sharing all this, my purpose has not been to convince everyone to see things as I do, but to at least surface this possibility as a part of the conversation. I don’t agree with – or believe – what my progressive friends have embraced as the truth of the matter in this conversation….but I’ll fight for their space to hold it, live it and follow it in their lives – just like I will fight for mine.

I realize that for people who have stepped away from religious communities, my own views may feel challenging – or even insulting.  Real dialogue is messy – and ‘goes there’ to the places that are hard.

Go there with me!

More to the point, real dialogue allows full transparency – with even hard things shared.  I’ve done that hear, so if you’re frustrated or challenged I want to give you the same space to speak with full transparency.  In other words, anger and candor are both welcome in dialogue – and I’m open to hearing how and where I’m wrong.  I really am.

And, of course, if you resonate – great to hear from you too.

Rather than minimizing or closing down conversation, I intend in all my writing to open up this space. So let’s do it!

Tell me what you think.

Jacob Hess is the author of 13 peer reviewed articles exploring contrasting narratives of mental health and socio-political issues.  He currently directs the health non-profit All of Life which offers free online classes exploring applications of mindfulness for those facing mental health challenges. Jacob has (co)authored three books: You’re Not  as Crazy as I Thought, But You’re Still Wrong, Once Upon a Time…He Wasn’t Feeling It Anymore and A Third Space: Proposing Another Way Forward in the LGBT/Religious Conservative Impasse (Disagreement Practice, Treasonous Friendship & Trustworthy Rivalry in the Face of Irreconcilable Difference). Two other projects – Red Blue Dictionary and My Science Can Beat Up Your Science, will be released this fall.  His work with Phil Neisser at State University of New York has been featured on This American Life and was recently honored by Public Conversations Project. His many wonderful writing collaborators and dialogue partners disagree in all sorts of ways with Jacob’s religious conservative views, and this essay only represents his own convictions. As a proud partner of Living Room Conversations, the Village Square and a long-term member of the National Coalition of Dialogue & Deliberation, Jacob’s life work is dedicated to making space for thoughtful, good-hearted people to find understanding (and affection) while exploring together the deepest of disagreements.

Notes:

[1] The process of adopting narratives – and how these stories play out in practical, day-to-day experience – was the subject of my dissertation from 2005 – 2009. More particular attention to this process in the area of identity has been a theme that figures prominently in the following:

• How do human beings know who they really are anyway?
• Another perspective on “I just can’t stay in this church anymore…”
• An (honest) disagreement at the heart of the lgbt-conservative religious conflict…that (almost) no one is talking about
• What does it mean when someone accepts experiencing same-sex attraction or being gay?
• What role does choice play in identity development and working with physical sensation or emotion?
• What role does romantic attraction play in identity?

[2] That’s not the same thing as somehow suggesting it’s “all subjective” or “just in people’s heads” (and thus easily dismissed).  That’s absolutely not the case, since narratives are everywhere and have practical, moment by moment influence. In other words, narratives are not mere abstractions – and not something we just “tell.”  We LIVE stories…so they are consummately practical and real – more like a Theater Script than a Fairy Tale.

[3] The life-upending power of this declaration is clearly no surprise to some in the gay community, as reflected in this example of encouragement shared with people not yet “out”:   “Every gay person must come out. As difficult as it is, you must tell your immediate family. You must tell your relatives. You must tell your friends if indeed they are your friends. You must tell the people you work with. You must tell the people in the stores you shop in. Once they realize that we are indeed their children, that we are indeed everywhere, every myth, every lie, every innuendo will be destroyed once and all. And once you do, you will feel so much better.”

After years of analyzing conflicting narratives associated with this (and other) public conversations, I’ve become increasingly fascinated by how far apart different our understandings are of certain sociopolitical words in the American vocabulary.  In the LGBT-religious conservative conversation, for instance, people understand words like “acceptance,” “compassion,” “love,” and “hatred” very differently (not to mention “identity,” “choice” “change,” etc).

I’m personally convinced that these contrasting meanings play out in many important ways  – and that a public conversation that acknowledges (and explores) them could be helpful for pretty much everyone.  However, rather than having rich, vibrant conversation about what it means to accept or be inclusive or compassionate or loving or hateful, the public conversation has pretty consistently moved in another direction: towards a single-minded focus on something much more black and white:

• Do you accept and love people…or not?
• Are you affirming and inclusive…or not?
• Are you committed to justice and equality…or not?
• Are you hateful and intolerant…or not?

To those asking these sorts of questions, they seem to be a fair and crucial inquiry that brings greater attention right where it needs to happen. In doing so, however, I’ve often wondered why we are so quick to ask questions that overlook the existence of fundamentally different understandings of basic terms. Why not make space for a rich conversation about this first?

In the absence of that conversation, this dominant framing exerts a strong (often unconscious) influence over what we end up talking about (or not talking about), as well as what ends up happening (or not) “in real life.”

Welcome to the New Black-and-White. Once the public conversation about gay rights is boiled down into the sort of dichotomies described above, participants are pressed into endless debates about who deserves the title of “loving” or “affirming” or “inclusive” or “accepting” or “hateful” (or not).

Once again, what these words actually mean – and the fact that we’re not remotely on the same page about basic definitions – gets overlooked with remarkable consistency. Instead, we’ve got important work to do:  sorting out who the loving, inclusive and compassionate people/institutions are…(and who are not).

Thus we have church congregations worthy of the title “accepting” and “inclusive” – and those that are not. We have designated “anti-LGBT” and “gay-affirming” schools and businesses, and those that are not. And we have individual teachers, political leaders and citizens who are sufficiently “enlightened” – and those who are woefully, lamentably not.

This is an interesting cultural turnaround, since it’s usually been my side – the religious conservatives – talking endlessly in black-and-white terms.  Right and wrong. Good and bad. Demons and Angels.

Now we find ourselves on the receiving end of another parallel universe of striking dichotomies.

To be completely fair, then, both sides in this conversation have their “black and white” and their conception of the public good (and bad). One gay Christian columnist describes the way both communities can dichotomize the world: “When I was a Christian child, I divided the world the way I was supposed to. There were good guys and there were bad guys. There were godly people and there were sinners. There were cowboys and there were Indians. When I was a gay college student, I was guided by this same principle. There were gays and there were homophobes. There were New Englanders and there were Southern knuckle-draggers. There was Anderson Cooper and there was Fox News.”

Welcome to the Black-and-White World. To open up this conversation even more, let’s acknowledge that it’s only natural for human beings to reach different conclusions about “the good” in society. In addition, it’s only natural to want to bring that good (and those views) into the world – and it’s only natural for one group’s view of “the good” to be more popular and more enshrined in law than another’s.

Whereas in the past, the “known world” was carved up into categories of good and bad that generally reflected an orthodox Judeo-Christian worldview, every day there is new evidence of another moral universe taking over. From court-cases to legal battles to front-page newspaper stories, it seems to many religious conservatives as if a “new right and wrong” has arrived in town – and is now dictating the terms of our public conversation.

So are you loving and accepting…or not? In favor of justice and equality…or not?

Depending on which category you land in, a new variety of cultural rewards and punishments are levied: Want a job in academia? Want professional accreditation?  Want tax-breaks? Want to keep a high-profile job (anywhere)?

People who hold orthodox Judeo-Christian convictions suddenly find themselves on the “wrong side of history”generally  – and specifically, facing real consequences for publicly mentioning their sex and gender-related religious beliefs. Based on my recent experiences on the job market, I’ve almost given up on the possibility of life in academia – simply because I’ve participated in dialogue as a religious conservative.  One religious conservative professor told me recently that his opportunities for recruitment by others universities dried up almost overnight as soon as he signed an amicus brief in the Obergefell v. Hodges case.

The point is not to add More Grievance to a conversation already punch drunk with accusation day and night. Nor is it to get paranoid about injustice around every corner – or to start comparing oppression’s (“oh, boo-hoo to the poor religious conservatives not getting their dream jobs…how does that compare to what real marginalized groups face every day, HUH?!”).

That’s not the conversation I want. Things have turned out fine for me – and the frustration I carry today is not personal.

What’s more, the fact that people hold profoundly different views of the “public good” is not only not a problem; it could be a huge benefit to us…IF we could talk about them.

Is that happening?

Vibrant public conversation. Isn’t it about…time? Ancient Aristotle envisioned a public square where people of widely disparate beliefs came together to debate “the public good.”  Wouldn’t it be great if our communities, our schools and our universities could become that space – with all voices welcome, and all voices heard?

In order to know the “full truth” of the matter, my brilliant gay Christian friend and co-author Arthur Pena often writes about our desperate societal need for a more widely transparent and vulnerable conversation – one that makes space for not only disagreement, but frustration too.

Despite the many levels of personal, real-life consequences that flow from these different conceptions of “the good,” I would argue that most of these disagreements remain unacknowledged and unexplored – at least in any meaningful way.

Instead of vibrant exploration across our most fundamental differences, public spaces are increasingly becoming polarized and politicized to the point that this kind of conversation stops…or never starts.

Don’t take my word for it. Read anything Jonathan Haidt or Jonathan Rausch or Joan Blades or Liz Joyner or Ralph Benko or David Blankenhorn or Parker Palmer are writing about political conversation these days.

We have no shortage of encouragement to move in the direction of a richer public conversation. And yet people seem to care very little about the possible deepening-of-discourse (even in an age of a Credible Trump Presidency…or perhaps because of that?)

In the absence of a deeper conversation with wider space for disagreement, I predict one pattern will continue.

The Black-and-White Pressure-Cooker.  Especially if not examined openly, these dichotomies will continue having profound effects on individual and collective decisions. This is especially evident in personal choices about family life and faith. In each case, the dichotomies reviewed earlier present only two options for those trying to navigate tough personal situations:

• Closeted..or openly gay?
• Staying loyal to my current spouse…or seeking my “true happiness”?
• Embracing my faith…or my sexuality?
• Loving my faith community…or my gay child?

The resulting pressure is huge, especially when no other viable option is considered.  Thus we arrive in a place where a mother with questions about her gender/sexuality put it, “I either embrace myself and let myself be truly happy or do what is ‘right’ by my kids.”

Black and white…where’s the choice in that?

Thus we arrive at a place where a youth in our faith community with gender identity questions became convinced his only two options were to stay a part of our congregation and be miserable (due, of course, to our lack of “love” for him) – or leave and become happy (by being “true to who he really is”).

Umm…no brainer, right?  Where’s the choice in that?

There is none.  Not a real one, at least.  As the Italian philosopher Antonio Gramsci once wrote, when a particular story has become big and strong enough, it “renders other options unthinkable.”

Finding another kind of happiness in your faith community? Seeking greater joy through loyalty to your current family members? Embracing both your sexuality and your faith?  Loving both your child and your faith with all your heart?

NOT even on the table for many people. Not even a possibility.

Can we change that?

If so, then we can have a public conversation that would make old Aristotle proud – weighing in the balance our contrasting views of so very many precious questions.

If not, then get in line for your conversion to the New Morality in Town.

The New Right Way. The New One True Path. The New Enlightenment.

Get in line, or risk being scorned as one of Those People…you know, the ones who haven’t yet learned what “love” really is yet?

…whatever “love” means anyway.

Jacob Hess is the author of 13 peer reviewed articles exploring contrasting narratives of mental health and socio-political issues.  He currently directs the health non-profit All of Life which offers free online classes exploring applications of mindfulness for those facing mental health challenges. Jacob has (co)authored three books: You’re Not  as Crazy as I Thought, But You’re Still Wrong, Once Upon a Time…He Wasn’t Feeling It Anymore and A Third Space: Proposing Another Way Forward in the LGBT/Religious Conservative Impasse (Disagreement Practice, Treasonous Friendship & Trustworthy Rivalry in the Face of Irreconcilable Difference). Two other projects – Red Blue Dictionary and My Science Can Beat Up Your Science, will be released this fall.  His work with Phil Neisser at State University of New York has been featured on This American Life and was recently honored by Public Conversations Project. His many wonderful writing collaborators and dialogue partners disagree in all sorts of ways with Jacob’s religious conservative views, and this essay only represents his own convictions. As a proud partner of Living Room Conversations, the Village Square and a long-term member of the National Coalition of Dialogue & Deliberation, Jacob’s life work is dedicated to making space for thoughtful, good-hearted people to find understanding (and affection) while exploring together the deepest of disagreements.

Note:  As detailed elsewhere, children’s art invokes the curiosity, wonder, and “beginner’s mind” that makes for an especially productive conversation across difference. “As children we fall in love with the wonder of being alive,” teaches Tsoknyi Rinpoche. What would it mean to regain that kind of curiosity and wonder? 

It is not uncommon in the LGBT-RC conversation to hear this kind of a question:

• “If the world changed and [religious conservative] churches said you could only be worthy if you married a man. Would that be ‘workable’ for you?”
• “If the rules were reversed and the leaders of the church told you that you, as a man, were expected to only have sexual relations with another man would that be acceptable to you?…Would there be a space for you in that plan?”
• “Let’s say the church said every member had to be in a same-sex partnership….And that heterosexuals would have to stop heterosexual behavior of any sort. They could not express their love or attraction to the opposite sex, because God said so…could you completely ignore your biological nature to be drawn to the opposite gender?”

For me, this kind of a Flip-it-Backward question functions pretty powerfully as an invitation towards empathy, encouraging those who do not experience same-sex attraction to consider how it might sound or feel for others to hear the Judeo-Christian imperative towards man-woman marriage.

Other times, however, this question comes up as a kind of definitive Check Mate, containing an implicit assertion of how completely unfeasible (and silly) religious conservative expectations, norms and teachings can seem to be for “LGBT people.”

And that’s where another related curiosity comes up for me. How fundamentally different are we as “gay” and “straight” people?  Could it be that we’re not on the same page in the LGBT-RC conversation about how fundamentally different (or similar) we are – as ‘kinds of people’? And if so, would this matter to the larger conversation?

Taking for granted fundamental differences. As odd as this question may sound, it’s also been asked in other domains, like race. As with sexuality, it’s most often seems taken for granted in other cultural conversations on race, ethnicity, class and gender, that we’re dealing with fundamentally different kinds of people (aka men are from mars, women from venus).

In the conversation about race, others have pushed back – saying “No” – pointing out that the degree to which our “fundamental” racial differences are simply not confirmed by genetic research (see this from the New York Times in 2000 and this from Newsweek in 2014)

Even so, racial and ethnic groups continue to be emphasized (more and more) as representing fundamentally distinct groups. And that’s how gender and sexual identity are now being discussed.

Rather than a philosophical or abstract distinction, I would argue this particular frame has significant real-life consequences.  For instance, if we are fundamentally different – then it becomes a whole lot harder to reach understanding, cooperation, collaboration across these differences (all of which seem to getting harder and harder in America right now).

If we are not fundamentally different, maybe all that stuff gets easier too?

Then again, depending on our worldview, these fundamental differences may be crucial.  So often when progressives talk (about race, gender & sexual orientation), I get a sense (of an underlying narrative) that the different demographics are seen in their worldview as representing “fundamentally different kinds of people.”

From this perspective, some people fit in the religious conservative teachings – and other people simply don’t.  Those latter people are, from this perspective, a very different kind of people – and so asking them to follow the same path makes very little sense. One person put it this way:  “A gay person would never ask a non-gay person to pretend they’re gay, or not to act on their attractions to people of the opposite sex.  Why do heterosexuals ask that of religious gays?”

And we’re back to the Flip-back question!  At this point, I would argue that how to interpret that question depends largely on how fundamentally different we assume gay and straight people are.

For those who see homosexual and heterosexual people as fundamentally different kinds of people, naturally a fundamentally different life path to find happiness is in order. And to question or resist or deny is just silly.

This is understandable, of course. For those who see their same-sex attraction as a fundamental and enduring feature of both their identity and the life they want, it’s completely understandable how impossible religious conservative teachings may seem to be.

But what about those who don’t see their same-sex attraction in this way – instead seeing it as an experience they are having?

Considering fundamentally different experiences.  Rather than seeing people as fundamentally different, how might it change to see gay and straight people as representing fundamentally different experiences?

It’s common in contemplative and mindfulness circles to invite more granular attention on experience itself – calling into question all the names, labels and judgments (good, bad and ugly) we apply to that experience.

Dating back to the Buddha’s original teachings, one key to alleviate suffering was to begin to question all these stories and judgments we add to our lives – especially those stories concerning our identity.

Rather than debating whether “this is who you really are” – and how different we are as people…imagine a conversation that simply acknowledged different experiences.

In one sense, that allows for a more universal underlying commonality of ‘who we are.’ From this perspective, African-Americans are not fundamentally different kinds of people, nor are liberals nor conservatives, nor anorexics.

Nor are gay or straight people. We are fundamentally the ‘same kind of people’ – having different kinds of experiences.

If that’s true and we are not fundamentally different people, then perhaps we do not have fundamentally different requirements – with fundamentally different requisite paths.

In this way, maybe personal degrees of freedom open up as well.  Rather than seeing only One True Path to happiness, those with same-sex attraction may have options in how to work with their sexuality, spirituality, etc.

From this vantage point, religious conservative teachings or expectations may not be so crazy or silly. And from this vantage point, the flip-back examples above are simply not equivalent. As another example, one person asked how people would feel walking away from heterosexuality:  “Why is this distinction of identity and behavior only relevant to gay people? Do you think of yourself as ‘acting’ straight? If you were told to stop ‘following through’ on your straightness, would you even know what to do?”

He continued, “I’ll take their requirements seriously when one of them takes a vow of lifelong celibacy and moves out of the residence he shares with his opposite-sex partner, just to show queer Mormons how achievable and healthy that is.”

Once again, it makes no sense to “reverse the rules” because the rules (from this perspective) never only applied to one group.  They were always – and will always apply to everyone…since the possibility is there for all to follow them (since we are all fundamentally the same kinds of people).

From this other perspective, not only is this achievable in the future, it will lend to the highest health and happiness.

The conversation to have.  It seems clear that religious conservative and LGBT communities have reached different conclusions about the degree to which they represent fundamentally “different kind of people.”

If that’s true, then can we talk about it?

For another eloquent exploration of this same terrain, check out Ty Mansfield’s “There are no [hetero]sexual members of the Church”

Also relevant is Chapter 6 in a Third Space: Misrepresenting LGBT/Religious Conservative Disagreements: Pleading for an Honest Conversation about What (Really) Divides Us

Jacob Hess is the author of 13 peer reviewed articles exploring contrasting narratives of mental health and socio-political issues.  He currently directs the health non-profit All of Life which offers free online classes exploring applications of mindfulness for those facing mental health challenges. Jacob has (co)authored three books: You’re Not  as Crazy as I Thought, But You’re Still Wrong, Once Upon a Time…He Wasn’t Feeling It Anymore and A Third Space: Proposing Another Way Forward in the LGBT/Religious Conservative Impasse (Disagreement Practice, Treasonous Friendship & Trustworthy Rivalry in the Face of Irreconcilable Difference). Two other projects – Red Blue Dictionary and My Science Can Beat Up Your Science, will be released this fall.  His work with Phil Neisser at State University of New York has been featured on This American Life and was recently honored by Public Conversations Project. His many wonderful writing collaborators and dialogue partners disagree in all sorts of ways with Jacob’s religious conservative views, and this essay only represents his own convictions. As a proud partner of Living Room Conversations, the Village Square and a long-term member of the National Coalition of Dialogue & Deliberation, Jacob’s life work is dedicated to making space for thoughtful, good-hearted people to find understanding (and affection) while exploring together the deepest of disagreements.

I’ve found that most people avoid dialogue-oriented writing for the same reason they avoid dialogue itself.  It’s not immediately affirming…and never as sexy as the reassuring texts that Prove Our Rightness (or that of our tribe). So I hold my expectations gently about how many will even care to listen in an online world of WWF mud-wrestling and endless click-bait. And I admittedly sometimes brace myself for attacks, easy misunderstandings and superficial readings that have become ‘part of the territory’ when it comes to online exchange.  

Every once in awhile, though, the opposite happens – and I have an online interaction every bit as powerful and thrilling as in-person dialogue. That happened last night – with a high-school classmate, Alice Fisher Roberts, who shares my faith, but comes from a different place politically.  It started with her relatively simple response to my latest piece on different narratives of choice, followed by my own response to her.  The hour that followed was so rich that I couldn’t help cutting and pasting excerpts into a permanent file (as I do with things I love).

With her permission I share it here, mostly because it felt so clarifying to me about so many parts of this conversation [Small edits have been made for clarity]. The whole thing that got me started on this road was documenting a similarly rich conversation with a scary Marxist Guy that continues today. Since then, I find moments like this magical and beautiful – and something I want to take a “snapshot” of when I can…like a sunset I don’t want to forget!

Below is my snapshot of dialogue with Alice – followed by some personal takeaways from this conversation, and a few others who responded.    

Alice: I’ve talked to a couple of people who felt like it was a choice for them, so [therefore] it must be a choice for others. Later in their life they realized they were bisexual.

Jacob: So their previous view of choice turned out to be mistaken, once they realized this was really just who they were…is that about right, Alice? If so, that would be a pretty good summation of a “conversion” to what I would call the (currently) dominant narrative of choice and sexuality.

Now imagine the reverse scenario playing out (as it has for others I know) – hearing from everyone for years that this was just who they were, before later realizing that there are options in how people can work with inner experience (for everyone). That would be a summation of a reverse “conversion” to an alternative narrative of choice and sexuality.

Does that seem like a fair enough summation of summations? Thanks for the comment. Feel free to push back.

Alice: For the two people I’ve talked to, yes, that seems accurate. I wouldn’t want to assume that’s a standard that applies to everyone, though. I think sexuality is a spectrum and generally if someone is capable of “changing” (or shifting where they identify) it would be individuals who are already in the center. Assuming that this means anyone can change would be a mistake.

Jacob: Making an absolute statement about “change” is not what this is about…However, from the place I stand, I do believe that all human beings can change how they work with their inner experience – thoughts, emotions, physical sensations. That’s pretty much a fundamental tenet of contemplative practice – and in that sense, a “standard that applies to (all) human experience.”

But that’s very different than efforts to directly change the thoughts, emotions and physical sensations themselves – something that we may not necessarily have any control over (and cannot always predict how or whether or when the experience will evolve…).

If that distinction is NOT clear – and we’re talking about BOTH senses like they’re the same thing (and like we mean the same thing by “choice”)…well, then we’re really in a pickle. And that would be one of my own diagnoses of our lamentable public conversation right now.

Alice: I’d like to hear more about what you mean by “change the thoughts, emotions and physical sensations themselves.” Also how that is different than talking about changing sexuality specifically?

Jacob: As in, “I can’t be having these thoughts…I NEED to feel something different…I SHOULDN’T be having these thoughts or feelings…I HAVE to be feeling something else….My body shouldn’t be feeling this way…I hate that my body (or mind) is doing this…AND THEREFORE, I need to do something to MAKE THIS CHANGE.

All of the above would capture the pattern of attempted change I’m referring to (in relation to any given experience – including sexual) – starting with harsh judgment about what is arising, then moving towards a grating pattern of forcing and fighting against the body/mind (sexual thoughts, feelings and sensations being just one example).

Alice: So more of an examination of the self and perhaps a reconciling the individual to their reality. And then choosing how to move forward, whatever that looks like? Is that what you mean?

Jacob: Yes – essentially. I would only add that in this practice, at least, it’s a moment-by-moment examination (and not some ‘final’ or ‘ultimate’ one)…and a moment-by-moment reconciliation (rather than some ‘final’ and ‘finished’ one) and again, a moment by moment moving forward, exploring, navigating, etc.

[While a final or ultimate reconciliation may still be important (I certainly think it is) – one thing mindful practice offers is a way to live this unfolding out moment by moment…a process that invariably involves a lighter touch, a willingness to sit with discomfort and be okay with not having everything finished or certain or complete (at least not yet…or not ever?)]

Alice: So being okay with who and what and where they are presently, and staying open to possibilities in the future, whatever they might be?

Jacob: Yes! Perfect. In our mindfulness class, we repeat within meditations, “allowing things to be exactly as you find them – without needing to force or control or fix anything.”

Outside of meditations, it’s clear to class participants that this is not some casual resignation towards anything that is going on (many participants have deeply painful things happening in relationships, in their minds, in their bodies with chronic pain). But invariably, their efforts to control, force, fix have made freaking-everything worse. And as soon as they stop that aggression…things lighten up – and possibilities start to emerge (without them trying to make them emerge)…

At some point, my friend Deanna, chimed in:  “I have had friends/family who have chosen homosexuality after years of rejection by the opposite sex. I have also known those whom I think were born with tendencies toward homosexuality, but I know that acting on those feelings is a choice. Otherwise, how could God declare it a sin in the Bible?”

I responded to Deanne, “How fascinating that others end up saying the opposite: ‘I know that the Bible cannot be a true book, because I know I didn’t choose to have these feelings.'”

“Moving beyond the rigid absolute of whether it’s a “choice” (or not) is partly why I’m writing this, Deanna – focusing more on what we mean by choice. In other words, what exactly you/we mean by “chosen homosexuality” is the conversation I’m hoping to see more of…I’m arguing that can’t really mean “choosing to feel attraction towards the same sex” – but instead, choosing a particular way of responding.”

Alice added:  Jacob, I think the word choice or choosing is just so loaded in these conversations. It makes it difficult to talk beyond it. Is there a way to structure a conversation without talking about choice?

Jacob: I think you might be right, Alice. I’ve been sitting here – and kind of like your suggestion.

When a word has taken on a certain amount of emotional/historical baggage, it becomes just so hard to work with. I’m intrigued…what do you think?

In our mindfulness classes, we talk in a language of “working with the body and mind”…”seeing what arises…and how you want to work with it.” The language of mindfulness feels more infused with a sense of “freedom,” “possibilities” and “options…” [not incidentally, we avoid using the word “spiritual” in our classes since it has also become too loaded for many people].

Alice: I have mixed feelings- on one hand, using language that doesn’t cause people to get stuck is a good thing. On the other hand, I’ve had this same conversation about the word “feminist,” and with that I just want people to stop getting hung up on what they think it means, or what it has meant in the past and get on board with what it means now. 😉 So, I don’t know.

Jacob: OR perhaps simply acknowledging the very different senses of the words that do exist (and always will?) – aka, “To some, feminism remains a dirty – and maybe evil word. While for others, the word represents so much of courage, devotion and insistence on a better future…”

That’s where I usually land, since you’re right – getting rid of words (or restricting usage – except in unique circumstances) seems to run into fatal problems (aka Trigger Warnings, Safe Spaces, et al.)

Our whole RedBlueDictionary.org project is premised on that idea…namely, that there is no ‘one right definition’ of any of these words (including “Biblical” and “Constitutional” and “Patriotic” “American” “racism” etc. etc.) – and that it might be nice to at least make enough space to hear what these words have come to mean across the whole American conversation.

One takeaway I had in this exchange was more clarity around ways the discussion of “choice” can feel inherently harsh – and proactively acknowledging that as part of the conversation.  In other words, rather than just having a conversation about contrasting meanings of this particular word (or others), make space to share the different emotions the word evokes for us.  Good dialogue is always a Head and Heart thing.

In addition, it seems valuable to explore ways to draw on  (in some contexts or some moments) less charged language, such as “freedom,” “possibility” an “working with our experiences in creative ways.”

In addition to this, here are three other helpful insights that arose in this conversation yesterday – each a way to avoid additional pitfalls in this discussion

1. Acknowledge the uniqueness of individual experience.  Alex wrote in agreement that often “when one person says ‘I didn’t choose to be gay,’ someone else interprets it as ‘I don’t choose my behavior.’ And there is no mutual understand of how each person interprets the word ‘gay.'”  

He went on to point out: 

From my perspective, I could choose from a variety of options, including marriage to a woman…but that doesn’t make me “not gay.” If gay referred solely to acting out sexually, then yes, I could choose to “be gay,” but according to [one] definition, it does not refer solely to acting upon homosexual feelings.

I responded: I love your last paragraph especially…because it pushes me in a good way. Within the constraints of this particular (choice-focused) essay, I haven’t made much space for someone to say “Hey, I’m a gay man…and there are all sorts of ways to work with that.” That’s not often how I hear openly gay individuals talking – at last not in the public discourse. Perhaps that’s a function of political dynamics, where the possibilities of options is not helpful to the larger movement.

Would you say most openly gay-identifying men and women would agree with your last paragraph? I’m curious… If nothing else, your comment underscores that this conversation doesn’t solely hinge around the meaning of one word. Different understandings in what exactly it means to “be gay” is also inseparably involved.

2. Acknowledge ways that agency can be over-stated and over-emphasized as well. In an attempt to bring more attention to the complexity and reality of choice as a multi-faceted player in this conversation, I’m pushing back against a larger narrative that appears to, at times, to minimize choice.  One obvious danger in doing so is to fall into the opposite extreme – and maximize choice to an unreal degree.  I’ve written elsewhere about “Over-stating agency” as a tendency some in my own faith community can fall into at times – and think that needs to be an important part of this conversation here as well.

3. Emphasize fundamental wholeness – and push back against the tendency to make everything a disease or sickness or disorder.  More than one person used my note as occasion to remind people that sin was involved.

I responded in each case:
“One (BIG) complication is the large extent to which we [religious conservatives] have sometimes categorized (especially in the past) feeling and attractions themselves as sinful…creating a scenario where people feel inherently sinful, broken, disgusting, etc.

Imagine a man who has feelings of lust towards frequent sexualized images around us seeing himself as a disgusting sinner every time one of those feelings arose inside…shall we call that, Torture?

Although religious leaders have been more crisp and clear in our language about “the sin being the response” and “the act”…that whole discussion still feels like an open wound to many people: people feeling broken, attacked, even more attacked by the clarifications.  Religious conservatives surely bear some responsibility (not all) – and I want to be very conscious about how painful this whole conversation remains.

That’s why I posted this additional clarification to the original essay:

But hold on: why are we even interested in bringing more attention to the possibility of choice? Doesn’t this assume that same-sex attraction is something disordered or sick that people need to get away from at all costs!?

Not at all. I don’t believe that. Laying aside all the problems with fighting and forcing our mind and body, raising concerns with the pathologization of human experience has become a theme of almost all my work. It never helps, in my opinion….like, never.

The people in my life who experience same-sex attraction (including those who identify as gay and those who are living in gay relationships) are not sick or disordered. And they don’t need to be “fixed.” On the contrary, they are some of the most sensitive and wonderful people in my life.

And as a whole, they are making very different choices about how to work with and respond to this attraction, but how could it be otherwise? Acknowledging and making authentic space for this process of choice is the point of this all – space to explore and make decisions about what feels right to each person (including people who opt to not to follow their same-sex attraction into romantic relationships).

My friend Ty Mansfield has shared his experience along those lines (and his belief that full-souled, non-sexualized attraction between genders is and will be a central, beautiful part of heaven)…and he’s been lambasted – raked over the coals, for betraying the dominant narrative.  These are the kinds of experiences that make me want to advocate for people’s freedom to choose wherever the peace guides them – whatever that ends up being.

Many ideas have been weaponized in our current LGBT-religious conservative conversation[1]. Choice is one of them.

My intention here is to clarify different meanings of “choice” in a way that supports generous and open-hearted LGBT-religious conservative dialogue, like I’ve experienced for years with wonderful friends in the gay community.

Because these kinds of distinctions are not often acknowledged in public discourse, this inquiry below could be accurately considered (in part) a push-back against a larger public conversation that remains remarkably accusatory and aggressive. In this, I acknowledge my words may be challenging for some – especially those who find the larger conversation currently happening in America quite helpful. I’m convinced if we are to find a (real) way forward in the LGBT-RC conversation, discomfort and stretching may not be optional (it certainly hasn’t been for me).

No matter your position, let’s acknowledge this as a sensitive and super-challenging conversation for most of us.  Anyone using this piece as yet-another-weapon is not paying attention to what I’m actually saying.

Proposing a broader conversation about choice.  Perhaps no single issue is more important, sensitive and challenging in the LGBT-RC conversation than the issue of choice itself. Disagreements over the existence of human choice has been a philosophical question central to morality, religion and public life for virtually all of human history. In this specific LGBT-RC conversation, the relevance of both competing worldviews (This-is-a-New-Civil Rights-Movement-for-a-Distinct-Community and Orthodox Judeo-Christian-Teachings-Are-Applicable-to-All) depend centrally on where people land on the question of choice (and non-choice).

If that’s true, then maybe we should be somewhat concerned to see a public conversation about choice that has become limiting, confusing and weaponized (in both directions). The idea that some choice is involved in sexuality has sometimes been used to pressure and bully people away from “living the gay lifestyle” – while the idea that no-choice-is-involved-whatsoever has likewise been used to pressure and bully people to walk away from any faith that doesn’t “accept who you really are.”

My overriding aim here is to summarize actual differences in how choice is currently understood in a way recognizable (aka fair) to both LGBT and religious conservative communities – all with an objective of promoting more honest, vulnerable and productive dialogue.

If you disagree with my characterizations, I welcome your own push-back or suggestions. If this conversation is refreshing or frustrating[2], please do share. I am only one voice (with plenty to learn), and consider everything I’m doing a work in progress.

Exploring different meanings of choice.  One near universal pattern in narratives of those who experience same-sex attraction is emphasizing this attraction as something they have not chosen. When my own dear cousin shared her coming out story with our extended family, she emphasized this point, telling us “with all the pain this can cause someone, realize this is not something I chose.”

 This is perhaps the most common way of talking about choice in relation to sexuality – aka whether or not people are choosing to feel attracted in a certain way.

And, of course, with near universal agreement, people across the political spectrum widely agree that NO, human beings do not “choose” attraction. For many complex reasons, each of us experiences our own unique set of feelings, thoughts and sensations in the body…whether we like it or not!

That is what I understand my progressive friends mean when they say “being gay is not a choice.”  And from this vantage point, sexual orientation is very much like race.

Once people adopt this particular view, the central choice becomes simple: whether (or not) to be true to who you are.  In the process of seeking to live out their authentic self, many people have shared this particular phrase – “being gay is not a choice” – as part of a request for greater empathy and understanding from family members and friends regarding their (often) long experience of exploring, grappling and making sense of their feelings.

In the context of family relationships, I believe that intention is a sincere and important one. Unfortunately, this same phrase – “being gay is not a choice” – has also been used (by others) as a kind of self-evident and damning critique of religious conservative teachings as wholly unrealistic, impossible and even dangerous for those who experience same-sex attraction.

Perhaps you believe that yourself.  If so, please understand that it’s nearly impossible to explain another way seeing religious conservative communities without a more honest[3] conversation about choice itself.  One possible starting point for that conversation would be agreeing that there are, as a matter of fact, different ways of thinking about choice in relation to sexuality (which is not the same thing as saying we should agree all these ways are equally “legitimate or valid”).[4]

Laying aside whether we choose to experience a particular attraction or not (that’s settled:  we don’t!), other questions remain:  How do we respond to the attraction? Do we embrace this attraction as reflective of our core identity or of the life we want? Do we follow this attraction and look to it to centrally guide our lives?

All of these represent other varied meanings of choice in relation to sexuality.  In my second book, I investigated this larger domain of choice in relation to male-female romance – exploring, in particular, different ways to work with the common experience of “not feeling it anymore.”

Although feelings of attraction (or limited attraction) can be overpowering for any of us, most still agree that human beings have choice in how exactly we respond to (even enduring) thoughts, feelings and physical sensations that constitute attraction. That choice is not whether to “feel what we are feeling,” but simply how to respond, work with and make sense of those feelings.

I’ve also written recently about multiple ways people are opting to move beyond fighting or forcing attraction to a healthier, more sustainable place.

In that sense, to these people, within this narrative, there are meaningful choices involved in sexuality – choices about which thoughtful people can come to very different conclusions.

When conservative say “being gay is a choice,” this is what they mean.  From that vantage point, there are meaningful differences between sexual orientation and race.

So what are you getting at?  The point here is that there are at least two viable, reasonable positions that different people can hold in this conversation.  In other words, we clearly aren’t using the word choice in the same way. If that’s true, can we at least talk about it?  Might we acknowledge that we’re coming from very different places in what “choice” means – and think about why that might be important?

Clearly, this is not as simple as “merely talking.”  Rather than mere semantics or abstract intellectual discussions, these different meanings of choice (and whether we talk about them) have practical, real-life consequences for what happens in people’s lives.

I have friends who experience same-sex attraction and have embraced that as central to who they are and the life they want. I have other friends who experience same-sex attraction and have embraced that experience as a part of who they are (and the life they want), but not in a central way that removes them from their religious conservative community.

These friends talk about who they are in different ways and make different life choices that follow different guiding narratives. What if that’s okay?  What if we got curious about the different worldviews – and made space for both?

For the former group, the Civil Rights narrative makes a whole lot of sense – and the orthodox Judeo-Christian teachings on marriage and family, not so much. For the latter group, these same religious conservative expectations seem quite workable, without necessarily seeing the gay rights movement as something they can fully embrace.

In both cases, words matter. And how we interpret and use them matters.  We don’t just speak language – we live it out.

Should we even be having this conversation? I expect a good number of people would conclude we’d be better off not talking much more about this question – and even considering it a danger for those who feel vulnerable in the LGBT community  (by raising questions about their new identity).  I expect an equal number of people would conclude the opposite – that without more of this conversation, we’re leaving those exploring these questions in a more vulnerable and unsettling place (by limiting viable choices to only one).

Given this, I would suggest we do more than simply disagreeing about what “choice” means – also making space for disagreement regarding how much this is worth talking about in the first place (and recognizing not everyone thinks it’s even a good idea…thus hearing them out too as part of the conversation).

But hold on:  why are we even interested in bringing more attention to the possibility of choice? Doesn’t this assume that same-sex attraction is something disordered or sick that people need to get away from at all costs!?

Not at all.  I don’t believe that. Laying aside all the problems with fighting and forcing our mind and body, raising concerns with the pathologization of human experience has become a theme of almost all my work.  It never helps, in my opinion….like, never.

The people in my life who experience same-sex attraction (including those who identify as gay and those who are living in gay relationships) are not sick or disordered.  And they don’t need to be “fixed.”

On the contrary, they are some of the most sensitive and wonderful people in my life. And as a whole, they are making very different choices about how to work with and respond to this attraction, but how could it be otherwise?

Acknowledging and making authentic space for this process of choice is the point of this all – space to explore and make decisions about what feels right to each person (including people who opt to not follow their same-sex attraction into romantic relationships). My friend Ty Mansfield has shared his experience along those lines (and his belief that full-souled, non-sexualized attraction between genders is and will be a central, beautiful part of heaven)…and he’s been lambasted – raked over the coals, for betraying the dominant narrative.

These are the kinds of experiences that make me want to advocate for people’s freedom to choose wherever the peace guides them – whatever that ends up being.

My own perspective is that anything would be an improvement over a current conversation that seems dominated by My Side Wins statements that shut down conversation – including “everything is a choice” and “there is no choice involved whatsoever.” Rather than vacillating between these kinds of absolutes, I hope we can enjoy a richer conversation that acknowledges various levels and kinds of choices AND leaves space for each of us to hold different views on the matter.

Recap & final thoughts. So is being gay a choice? That depends on what we mean by choice.

If we’re talking about choosing to feel or not feel something (choosing for a particular physical sensation or feeling to be something else)…well that’s silliness.

But if we’re talking about how we respond to those feelings, those sensations – and whether we choose to follow them, embrace them and identify with them…well then, lots of people consider those meaningful choices.

Indeed, from that perspective, we all choose the narratives, stories, interpretations, words and labels to associate with ourselves – including those who experience same-sex attraction.

My intention here is to help contribute to a more productive conversation between religious conservative and LGBT communities – one that, at a minimum, represents what the different sides believe in a fair light. Even better, maybe we can disagree about choice (and lots of other stuff) without assuming that means the other person has less faith, less love, or less intelligence…

Let’s start by putting down our weapons!  Different ideas about choice should not be used to pressure or badger people in any direction – whether to follow certain religious paths, to follow certain sexual paths (or to not follow them either).[5]

In conclusion, there seem to be vastly different ways of talking about “choice” – and very little conversation about these differences.  Maybe we can start now?

Let me know your thoughts.  If I’ve got it all wrong, be sure to tell me!

Thanks for joining the dialogue, with special appreciation to those (on both sides) willing to sit with your discomfort.

Jacob Hess is the author of 13 peer reviewed articles exploring contrasting narratives of mental health and socio-political issues.  He currently directs the health non-profit All of Life which offers free online classes exploring applications of mindfulness for those facing mental health challenges. Jacob has (co)authored three books: You’re Not  as Crazy as I Thought, But You’re Still Wrong, Once Upon a Time…He Wasn’t Feeling It Anymore and A Third Space: Proposing Another Way Forward in the LGBT/Religious Conservative Impasse (Disagreement Practice, Treasonous Friendship & Trustworthy Rivalry in the Face of Irreconcilable Difference). Two other projects – Red Blue Dictionary and My Science Can Beat Up Your Science, will be released this fall.  His work with Phil Neisser at State University of New York has been featured on This American Life and was recently honored by Public Conversations Project. His many wonderful writing collaborators and dialogue partners disagree in all sorts of ways with Jacob’s religious conservative views, and this essay only represents his own convictions. As a proud partner of Living Room Conversations, the Village Square and a long-term member of the National Coalition of Dialogue & Deliberation, Jacob’s life work is dedicated to making space for thoughtful, good-hearted people to find understanding (and affection) while exploring together the deepest of disagreements.

Notes: 

In a previous article, I explore some of this same terrain with many more narrative illustrations and examples:  What role does choice play in identity development and working with physical sensation or emotion?

[1] Weaponization happens when any one of us pretends that the answer to this (or other) questions are super-simple (so much so that any ‘rational’ or ‘reasonable’ or ‘faithful’ or ‘loving’ person should agree with…well, us!). Depending on the moment, different voices can insist that the only real choice to talk about is whether to be “true to who you really are” (or not) or “true to how you feel” (or not) or “true to God’s word” (or not). Clarity and conviction are not problems, of course, as long as they don’t create an airtight, pressurized conversation with diminishing space to think or explore.

[2] Yes, frustration, indignation and real anger are welcome in honest, mature dialogue! (especially the Non-Name-Calling kind).

[3] “Honest” in the sense of, honest about what each of us really believe….And not mis-characterizing others’ views in a way that serves our own agenda (see here for a more extensive discussion in Chapter 6 of A Third Space).

[4] Insinuating legitimacy or validity (or even saying you ‘respect’ someone’s views) is NOT a pre-requisite condition of dialogue. Respect for people is not the same thing as respect for their views!

[5]  If being gay involves no choice whatsoever (on any level), then religious conservatives are clearly holding on to delusional beliefs about man-woman marriage, sin, etc. And if being gay does involve choice (on some level), then the LGBT community can be accused of just “choosing” a simple lifestyle.

Note: One of the most common and pervasive misconceptions of dialogue is that the overriding goal is to “maintain peace” – aka to make sure that everyone feels comfortable. This kind of perception can create what Arthur Pena, a gay Christian man who collaborated with me to create a Third Space, calls the “Tyranny of Civility” – reflecting an oppressive niceness that stifles efforts to grapple with important questions and ultimately, hampers our ability to reach together for greater insight and understanding.   

As scary as it can feel, when two people (or two communities) are willing to step beyond the Eggshell Walking towards an authentic and heartfelt sharing-and-hearing of What We Really Think…well, that’s when it starts to get fun.  (And hard).  And transformative.   

If you’re not wanting to be stretched or risk feeling some additional discomfort, no need to keep reading. But if you’re hungry for a more honest, productive LGBT-religious conservative conversation – please stay. Over the next several weeks, I will be proposing some ways to make a bit more space around key pressure points in this conversation, with an explicit aim of decreasing the suffering and increasing the freedom for all involved (whatever their views).    

One of the most common patterns across the genre of SSA/LGBT personal narratives is a period of time where a person recollects “fighting” or “forcing” their body and mind – often, in an attempt to beat back or overcome same-sex attraction.

Although the details of what exactly constitutes “forcing” or “fighting” vary in meaningful ways, this state of mind is described almost universally (across both liberal and conservative-leaning narrators) as a negative and unnecessarily painful experience.

And no wonder! It doesn’t take a mental health professional to know that forcing or fighting one’s own mind or body are neither sustainable nor an especially happy way to live.

Practitioners of mindfulness have been teaching for ages the inadvertent consequences of harsh, aggressive tactics to control things, “fix” oneself or force away something we do not like. In the context of mental health, for instance, Mark Williams and colleagues write that “the mind doesn’t like to be forced” as an explanation for why efforts to make depression go away often have an unintended rebound effect.

If that is true, and people eventually discover how unsustainable fighting/forcing the mind and body are, then what comes next?

This is where the narrative differences get really interesting. While it’s almost universal that people feel compelled to stop all the fighting and forcing (something that brings immediate relief), the stories sharply diverge on what to start doing instead.

This shouldn’t be surprising, of course, to anyone familiar with mindfulness practice, where it’s clear that any given sensation, emotion or thought can be worked with in different ways. This is as true for sexual experience as it is for any other kind of experience.

And sexuality narratives bear this out, confirming at least two ways (among many) people who experience same-sex attraction[1] seek to move beyond forcing and fighting to a healthier place:

1. As an alternative to fighting against body and mind, one group begins to embrace enduring thoughts, experiences and sensations (including same-sex attraction) as central to who they are and the life they want.

This is understandable for a group of people who often grow up feeling judged, out of place and even condemned – pushing back against these reactions to essentially say, No this is me and I’m not going to be ashamed or cower anymore.  I’m embracing all of this as good.         

A second group also pushes back against the fighting-and-forcing, albeit in a different way.

2. As an alternative to fighting against body and mind, this other group begins to accept enduring sensations, emotions and thoughts (including same-sex attraction) as simply what they are experiencing. This means allowing the experience to be as it is, without necessarily applying a label or story of what it necessarily means for their identity or future.[2]

While stopping short of embracing same-sex attraction as central to who they are, this second response – like the first – builds on the substantial emotional relief of simply no longer having to force things. Indeed, many in both groups report an initial decrease in anxiety, since both are putting down the fight.[3]

This might be good news, if we were looking for multiple ways to reduce the dangerous state of mind that many find themselves in after years of fighting or forcing. We can’t be ignorant, however, of the larger sociopolitical climate where making space for multiple pathways can be challenging or controversial.

In this case, for those who identify as gay (and thus embrace same-sex attraction as somewhat central to their identity), the existence of any other legitimate way of working with this attraction can understandably feel threatening.

Similar to the idea of an unchanging, determinate biology, the notion that there is only One Path to lasting happiness for those in the gay community may, indeed, be crucial in persuading (more) people towards a place of respect and compassion.

But what if we don’t have to be forced? What if we can believe in the changeability of biology – alongside a variety of ways to work with feelings, thoughts and sensations – while still making genuine space for how different people see themselves and choose to live their lives?

One of the driving assumptions behind my own work is that human beings deserve (real) space to chart their own course.  That’s a nice-enough-sounding idea, of course, until you start talking about what it means in the details of sexuality,  or mental health or physical health.

In almost every area, the push-back can be enormous as institutions, movements and popular ways of doing things can interpret Space-Making as some kind of an existential challenge.

What, however, I would ask is the alternative?  Pretending like no one ever navigates a different way successfully?  Insisting that they are not – and cannot ever find happiness – except by following our way?

If we’re honest, most people across the socio-political spectrum do think there is one path offering a better chance for lasting happiness (and that’s not necessarily a bad thing!) It’s when we bring our One True Path into the conversation in a way that shuts down open exploration that problems arise.  Some Loud Voice Religious conservatives are famous for doing this on occasion in the past.  And some Loud Voices in the LGBT community are now becoming famous for the same thing.

I am heartened, however, at how many progressive and liberal colleagues – including openly gay and lesbian identifying friends – agree on the importance of preserving a public space that not only ‘allows,’ but encourages free exploration and open inquiry. I’ve got wonderful friends who are living out very different answers to the questions posed above – and yet many of them align on the crucial need for the kind of pluralism I describe here.

Maybe it’s our new 21st Century Golden Rule:  Give Space Unto Others You Would Want For Yourself. 

As long as we can do this, I feel optimistic about what is possible.  If we can’t even do this, we’re in for a brutal fight ahead. At least that’s how I see it.

Do you agree? Disagree? Is there anything about this discussion you find helpful?

If I’ve got it all wrong, share with me how you see it. That’s the whole point of this, after all!  I’ve got big ears (so the bullies told me in elementary school) – and look forward to your thoughts.

Jacob Hess is the author of 13 peer reviewed articles exploring contrasting narratives of mental health and socio-political issues.  He currently directs the health non-profit All of Life which offers free online classes exploring applications of mindfulness for those facing mental health challenges. Jacob has (co)authored three books: You’re Not  as Crazy as I Thought, But You’re Still Wrong, Once Upon a Time…He Wasn’t Feeling It Anymore and A Third Space: Proposing Another Way Forward in the LGBT/Religious Conservative Impasse (Disagreement Practice, Treasonous Friendship & Trustworthy Rivalry in the Face of Irreconcilable Difference). Two other projects – Red Blue Dictionary and My Science Can Beat Up Your Science, will be released this fall.  His work with Phil Neisser at State University of New York has been featured on This American Life and was recently honored by Public Conversations Project. His many wonderful writing collaborators and dialogue partners disagree in all sorts of ways with Jacob’s religious conservative views, and this essay only represents his own convictions. As a proud partner of Living Room Conversations, the Village Square and a long-term member of the National Coalition of Dialogue & Deliberation, Jacob’s life work is dedicated to making space for thoughtful, good-hearted people to find understanding (and affection) while exploring together the deepest of disagreements.

Notes:

[1] While many people prefer to simply say “gay people,” this phrase reflects a particular message about identity that not everyone in the LGBT-religious conservative dialogue embraces. That’s why I choose to use this term (notice, I’m not saying ‘people with same-sex attraction’ since that implies some kind of separable pathology or disorder – clearly unhelpful and far from what I personally believe).

[2] This is essentially what mindfulness students are invited to do as they learn to meditate – learning to “accept whatever they are experiencing in this moment….without trying to force or fix or control or make things change in any way” (and without “labeling or judging” them either). I’ve written about this approach elsewhere in the context of mental health and in the domain of spirituality (see MindfullyMormon.org).

All of this has led me to get curious about the applications of the gentle mindfulness approach to some of these questions around sexuality. Of course, how exactly mindfulness applies here is yet another area where substantial disagreement exists.  While some would argue that mindfulness-based acceptance *is* fundamentally an all-encompassing acceptance of all our experience as trustworthy and good, others such as myself would see this as reflecting a label and story that also deserves to be held in awareness, watched and observed.

[3] How and whether mental wellness plays out in the future, of course, is another contested question. Typically, both groups end up saying essentially the same thing about the other:”well, they may feel a decrease in anxiety initially…but the path they have chosen is clearly unsustainable since it reflects a fundamental betrayal of who they are.”