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It was a good time! Here's hoping we can do it again

jumping up and down bouncing off of the walls laughing and crying BYU IS HAVING ITS FIRST LGBTQ EVENT TOMORROW!!!! ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

I am so incredibly excited. I'll be pulling up around 3pm with my pride pins and altogether queer self; maybe I'll see y'all there. This is big!!! First LGBTQ event!! And it's a service activity :}

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If people read the sacrament hymns without knowing what Latter-day Saint sacrament entails, I think you'd just assume that we're a religion that is REALLY into bread. Which. Yeah. Bread rocks. I can get down to praise songs about bread.

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“Some years ago, I was stuck on a crosstown bus in New York City during rush hour. Traffic was barely moving. The bus was filled with cold, tired people who were deeply irritated—with one another; with the rainy, sleety weather; with the world itself. Two men barked at each other about a shove that might or might not have been intentional. A pregnant woman got on, and nobody offered her a seat. Rage was in the air; no mercy would be found here.

But as the bus approached Seventh Avenue, the driver got on the intercom. “Folks,” he said, “I know you’ve had a rough day and you’re frustrated. I can’t do anything about the weather or traffic, but here’s what I can do. As each one of you gets off the bus, I will reach out my hand to you. As you walk by, drop your troubles into the palm of my hand, okay? Don’t take your problems home to your families tonight—just leave ‘em with me. My route goes right by the Hudson River, and when I drive by there later, I’ll open the window and throw your troubles in the water. Sound good?”

It was as if a spell had lifted. Everyone burst out laughing. Faces gleamed with surprised delight. People who’d been pretending for the past hour not to notice each other’s existence were suddenly grinning at each other like, is this guy serious?

Oh, he was serious.

At the next stop—just as promised—the driver reached out his hand, palm up, and waited. One by one, all the exiting commuters placed their hand just above his and mimed the gesture of dropping something into his palm. Some people laughed as they did this, some teared up—but everyone did it. The driver repeated the same lovely ritual at the next stop, too. And the next. All the way to the river.

We live in a hard world, my friends. Sometimes it’s extra difficult to be a human being. Sometimes you have a bad day. Sometimes you have a bad day that lasts for several years. You struggle and fail. You lose jobs, money, friends, faith, and love. You witness horrible events unfolding in the news, and you become fearful and withdrawn. There are times when everything seems cloaked in darkness. You long for the light but don’t know where to find it.

But what if you are the light? What if you’re the very agent of illumination that a dark situation begs for?

That’s what this bus driver taught me—that anyone can be the light, at any moment. This guy wasn’t some big power player. He wasn’t a spiritual leader. He wasn’t some media-savvy “influencer.” He was a bus driver—one of society’s most invisible workers. But he possessed real power, and he used it beautifully for our benefit.

When life feels especially grim, or when I feel particularly powerless in the face of the world’s troubles, I think of this man and ask myself, What can I do, right now, to be the light? Of course, I can’t personally end all wars, or solve global warming, or transform vexing people into entirely different creatures. I definitely can’t control traffic. But I do have some influence on everyone I brush up against, even if we never speak or learn each other’s name. How we behave matters because within human society everything is contagious—sadness and anger, yes, but also patience and generosity. Which means we all have more influence than we realize.

No matter who you are, or where you are, or how mundane or tough your situation may seem, I believe you can illuminate your world. In fact, I believe this is the only way the world will ever be illuminated—one bright act of grace at a time, all the way to the river.“

–Elizabeth Gilbert

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Hello! I’m a high school student who’s researching how different people experience and describe their gender identity, and I was hoping you might consider boosting my survey?

https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSfNIvwmieRDkeTmc_smVtMfbw1T8HhdrjQMg0Q60kMAK_BnUw/viewform

If you need more information, feel free to ask. Thank you!

Go on then, why not. :)

Click here to participate.

@chronicmedisorder, if you decide to publish the results please throw a link my way so I can boost that as well!

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(Also doing a fake hick voice is gross.)

[In the interest of post length, I'm not including all of the subthreads - you can read this thread starting here if you have a BlueSky login:

]

[Spider's note: yes, she means the House version of the bill, HR 28.]

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My God, my God, why have you forsaken us? Where us thy Spirit, where is the cover that hides thy house?

Why have we forsaken you? Why have those who profess thy name, but are far from you in heart, have control over my county? Thou said the constitution was inspired by You, why have those who seek to bring a king in all but name taken over?

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Thank you for translating!

The prophets: The Book of Mormon was written for our day!

Me: Really?

3 Nephi chapter 6:

Now it came to pass that those judges had many friends and kindreds; and the remainder, yea, even almost all the lawyers and the high priests, did gather themselves together, and unite with the kindreds of those judges who were to be tried according to the law.

And they did enter into a covenant one with another, yea, even into that covenant which was given by them of old, which covenant was given and administered by the devil, to combine against all righteousness.

Therefore they did combine against the people of the Lord, and enter into a covenant to destroy them, and to deliver those who were guilty of murder from the grasp of justice, which was about to be administered according to the law.

And they did set at defiance the law and the rights of their country; and they did covenant one with another to destroy the governor, and to establish a king over the land, that the land should no more be at liberty but should be subject unto kings.

Me: Huh

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Your first pride story was touching and all but you still married a man.

Yeah, bisexuals do that sometimes.

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French isn't even on here

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holy shit y’all should watch this one, what an admirable person

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I'd mostly gotten over my gay crush on my roommate but last night we did karaoke and that might have changed again

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Problem with making sci fi dungeons is coming up with places that aren't just military tech bases, research facilities, mines or abandoned space stations.

I have the entirety of modern life to pull from and I come up blank somehow.

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Ben Schilaty, who has done so much good through his book, his podcast, and being a visible gay man in the church and at BYU, shares about the change in climate at BYU over the past few years. Many LDS members consider him "safe" and "a good one," but even he was not spared. The current retrenchment can be seen as beginning in 2020 when the Honor Code changed to remove prohibitions on same-sex dating or displays of affection. That caused a backlash amongst conservative donors and some LDS General Authorities who have since worked to restrict queer visibility and silence queer authenticity.

I'm sharing Ben's entire post below

————————————————————

I Worked at BYU as an Openly Gay Administrator

I have three degrees from BYU (which I lovingly refer to as my “three degrees of glory”) and I worked there as an Honor Code administrator from 2019-2023. I spent 12 years of my adult life on that campus. So I say this with no hyperbole and a bit of embarrassment–Brigham Young University is my favorite place on the planet. 

It’s been almost a year and a half since I left my job at BYU and I feel it’s time to share some stories about what it was like to be an openly gay employee. BYU employs over 6,000 people so there is a wide range of experiences and I only speak for myself. I hope anyone who reads this will understand how incredibly wonderful it was to work at BYU, while also painful and difficult at times. 

When I applied to work in the Honor Code Office I shared in my cover letter that I was gay. I did not want to work anywhere that I couldn’t be open about my orientation. I literally jumped for joy when I was offered the job. Just a few weeks later the Chairman of the Board of Trustees gave a devotional at BYU where he spoke extensively about the LGBTQ community. After the devotional I was working in my office when one of my new colleagues popped in to ask how I was doing. We didn’t know each other well, but he thought I might have some feelings about the devotional. I told him everything, absolutely everything I was feeling. To his credit, this near stranger listened with curiosity and compassion and asked a lot of great questions. I’m sure he didn’t agree with everything I said, and I didn’t need him to. I was just grateful that he cared to ask. This coworker would become a dear friend. 

I was invited to a few meetings to discuss how the campus could move forward after this sudden pendulum swing. No one in any of those meetings could dictate what the Honor Code included, that was a Board of Trustees level decision, but I was invited to share my perspectives. I repeatedly asserted my belief that same-sex dating should be allowed at BYU. I was never reprimanded or disciplined for holding and sharing that position (the same was also true when I shared that I thought beards should be allowed). While my view did not prevail, I felt genuinely respected by everyone in those meetings. As I left one meeting, a high level administrator shook my hand and said, “We are so blessed to have you here at BYU.” I felt like I was the lucky one. 

A year and a half later in the summer of 2021, a two page typed letter arrived in my office mailbox. The author had read an article I’d written in Y Magazine and was deeply concerned that BYU would employ someone like me (you can read the offending article here). In the letter (that was longer than my article) he complained about me and stated that he was a longtime donor and would no longer be giving money to BYU because of me. At the end of the letter he listed all the people who he was sending this same letter to. I was by far the least important person on that list. I was hurt and confused, but I wasn’t scared. My colleagues at BYU knew me and they trusted me and I knew they had my back. 

A month later a member of the Board of Trustees gave an address at BYU where he quoted a letter from a concerned parent. I thought of the letter I had recently received. He spoke with concern about a student who had commandeered a graduation speech by coming out in the middle of it. He also spoke of divisive symbols and flag waving. He didn’t specify what symbols he was referring to, but given the LGBTQ context of his remarks I assumed he was talking about rainbows and pride flags. 

It felt like the world shifted underneath me that day. I was no longer sure what I was allowed to say about my orientation at work. Had I commandeered the BYU TEDx event when I came out in my talk? Was my rainbow ring divisive? Was I allowed to say I was gay when I guest lectured in classes? I was the same, but the university environment suddenly felt different. 

I felt a weight bearing down on me in the days after the talk. My boss’s boss sat with me on a bench as I shared my fears, hurt, and confusion. As I cried he just listened. I only ever felt love and care from the people at BYU who knew me. It was the people who didn’t know me that scared me. 

A few weeks later I spoke at an event on campus centered on belonging. I asked if it would be okay for me to come out in my remarks. One of the organizers said, “I think it’s better you don’t.” So I didn’t. As I got ready to walk onto the stage I slipped my rainbow ring off my finger and stashed it in my pocket, not wanting to be accused of displaying a divisive symbol. Later during the event, a musical performer came out as LGBTQ in between songs. Right after this disclosure I overheard one administrator say to another, “They won’t be performing here again.” Coming out had just gotten them cancelled. 

A few months later I was called into a meeting with a high level administrator. At the beginning of the meeting I was assured that I wasn’t in trouble. I was then told that I had said something that needed to be addressed. I had recently spoken at a fireside that wasn’t affiliated with BYU about how to minister to LGBTQ Latter-day Saints. A concerned attendee wrote a letter to the Commissioner of Church Education which was then forwarded to the president of BYU who asked this administrator to speak with me. The concern was that I had said that prophets aren’t fax machines for God. I explained that He doesn’t just put words into their minds that then came out exactly as they were communicated, but that divine inspiration was filtered through the prophet’s own words and life experiences. I had taken this idea from an article written by a BYU religion professor that was published by BYU. “You need to be more careful to not say anything that could be interpreted as you not sustaining the Brethren,” I was advised. I accepted the counsel and stopped using that analogy, with a new understanding that concerned letters would be read and acted on. And that a straight religion professor could say things that I couldn’t. 

On another occasion my bishop told me that the Ecclesiastical Clearance Office had recently called him three times to ask about me. After the third call he told them not to call back, that he had already told them I was worthy to work at BYU and he didn’t need to tell them again. A few days later I started sobbing uncontrollably in my car. I was overwhelmed with panic that someone was trying to get me fired. My reaction was so strong and unexpected that I made an appointment with a therapist to talk through what I was experiencing. I reached out to a therapist who also worked at BYU so he would understand the context of my situation. I told him about my sobbing episode and he said it was a stress response to months of fear and hypervigilance. In our second meeting he bluntly told me, “Ben, the truth is that you might get fired. That could actually happen, and the sooner you accept that reality the better you’ll feel.” I nodded my head. He was right. Simply acknowledging that reality did make me feel better, like I had a little bit of control. He also encouraged me to get more information about the calls from the Ecclesiastical Clearance Office. So I did some digging and learned that since I had recently applied for three jobs at BYU, the ECO had called my bishop after each application. The bonfire of terror I had felt was immediately reduced to the low simmer of fear I was growing accustomed to. 

He then explained that the Commissioner of Church Education had reached out to the BYU president to express concern about something I had said in my presentation at the BYU Religious Freedom Annual Review. The president then asked this VP to address the concern with me. He reminded me that during the Q&A portion I was asked why so many LGBTQ people leave the Church. As part of my answer I said that some members are excommunicated for marrying same-sex partners. This VP then instructed me not to share this anymore. I said, “But it’s true. The Church does excommunicate some people in same-sex marriages.” He replied, “It might be true, but it's not helpful.” 

The meeting lasted for an hour and a half and the VP spoke about 80% of the time. I walked out of his office confused about why I had been reprimanded. This meeting was so different from the thousands of other conversations I had had with colleagues at the university. I walked out of the building feeling like I was a problem that needed to be managed. 

Two months later I quit. 

The next day my new supervisor approached me. “Ben, we need to talk about what happened yesterday when you hugged that student. Someone from the dean’s office saw that interaction and heard what you said.” My heart sank as I remembered a time at BYU when I was accused of flirting with a male student (which I had not done) and a formal complaint had been written about me. I had just started this job at UVU and it seemed I was already getting in trouble. Then she continued, “The administrator got emotional as she told me about seeing you talk with that student. She told me to thank you for already serving our students, and to let you know that we are so lucky to have you here at UVU.” 

I was shocked. This is the story I tell when friends ask me how working at UVU is different than working at BYU. I had been primed to be afraid at BYU and now I didn't have to be afraid.  

The truth is that I miss BYU. Working there was my dream come true. It was my home for many years and I thrived there for a long time. My day-to-day life there was wonderful, but it was accompanied by a fear that if I didn’t talk about being gay in the “right” way, I’d get in trouble. And this fear was not irrational. 

As I’ve shared these stories with friends, a common response has been, “Well, things were so stressful because you’re a public figure. Being so open in your book, podcast, and presentations brings added scrutiny that wouldn’t have existed if you didn’t share so much.” I think this is true. If I had just not talked about my orientation or shared my lived experiences many of these painful moments would not have happened. But I would have felt a worse kind of pain. 

The deeper pain of hiding. 

Five months after I was hired at BYU I was invited to participate on a campus wide panel called “Reconciling Faith and Sexuality.” There were only a handful of openly gay employees so I was the only gay person on the panel. The JSB auditorium was filled to capacity as the moderator started the event by reading my bio, including the fun fact I’d included: “Ben still wears his retainers every night.” Not realizing that our mics were already on, I leaned over to my colleague and joked, “Gotta keep something straight.” The whole auditorium heard my comment and laughed. The audience then noticed the startled look of horror on my face, and a second wave of louder laughter filled the room. Many of the faces I saw in the audience had looked tense, unsure, and nervous. Then that moment of levity shifted the feeling in the room. This wasn’t going to be a depressing or prescriptive conversation, but one filled with joy, hope, and authenticity. 

The questions from this panel discussion inspired me to start the podcast “Questions from the Closet.” The very podcast that the freshman at UVU later told me changed his life. This moment of openness and story sharing at BYU wasn’t just a moment, but a catalyst that led to more good. 

Paul taught that “those members of the body, which seem to be more feeble, are necessary. And those members of the body, which we think to be less honourable, upon these we bestow more abundant honour…” (1 Cor 12:22-23). 

The Body of Christ is only complete when every member is included. And BYU was a place where I always felt valued and included by those who knew me, and sometimes treated with fear and suspicion by those who didn’t.

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The prophets: The Book of Mormon was written for our day!

Me: Really?

3 Nephi chapter 6:

Now it came to pass that those judges had many friends and kindreds; and the remainder, yea, even almost all the lawyers and the high priests, did gather themselves together, and unite with the kindreds of those judges who were to be tried according to the law.

And they did enter into a covenant one with another, yea, even into that covenant which was given by them of old, which covenant was given and administered by the devil, to combine against all righteousness.

Therefore they did combine against the people of the Lord, and enter into a covenant to destroy them, and to deliver those who were guilty of murder from the grasp of justice, which was about to be administered according to the law.

And they did set at defiance the law and the rights of their country; and they did covenant one with another to destroy the governor, and to establish a king over the land, that the land should no more be at liberty but should be subject unto kings.

Me: Huh

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Regarding that one scene in Oathbringer where they discuss Drehy dating a man-

Doylist explanation: Sanderson is giving us information on Alethi culture and norms using a beloved character knowing this interaction won't harm his reputation.

Watsonian explanation: Sure, Kaladin is educated but he's from a small town and he's 20. TWENTY.

Have you met a 20 year old? Even a smart, impressive one? Yeah.