As an undergrad at Brigham Young University, I was part of a working group with a monumental task — to identify ways to improve the campus environment for LGBTQ+ students within the existing policies and expectations of a religious university. The group consisted of both students and university administrators, and we all had different orientations, identities, priorities and experiences. Disagreements were frequent and movement was slow.
But I came to view it as one of the most important things I had ever done.
My time on the working group taught me the valuable skill of building relationships across a polarized social divide. It taught me the inherent value of collaboration and finding common ground.
In the years since, I’ve observed American politics often pattern after those same complex issues. Conversations surrounding LGBTQ+ civil rights and religious freedom have recently been at the forefront. Last December, Congress passed the Respect for Marriage Act, which codified the legal right to same-sex marriage and provided protections for religious organizations.
This was rightly heralded as a landmark stride in bipartisan legislation, and I was pleased to see my church actively support this legislation. But legislation alone won’t solve the political polarization and hostility that too often exists among us. In fact, during the same month, the Williams Institute at UCLA found that LGBT people are nine times more likely to be victims of a violent hate crime compared to heterosexual peers. The “civility gap” between religious communities and LGBTQ+ people in America is becoming an unfortunate chasm. Watching friends become enemies and families drift apart shouldn’t be the norm.
We must find more common ground.
Discussions about LGBTQ+ rights and religious freedom are often framed as “us vs. them,” as if religious people and LGBTQ+ people are two entirely separate groups. However, researchers have found that nearly half of all LGBT adults in the United States identify as religious.
This doesn’t surprise me at all.
I know many LGBTQ+ individuals, including married gay couples, who value spirituality and wish to worship Christ among fellow believers. I’m one of them. I recently announced my own engagement, and I have a personal goal to keep attending church. I can’t imagine a life without practicing my faith, and I’m not alone.
The Respect for Marriage Act and the First Amendment ensure that gay rights to marry and worship are both protected by law, but it does not protect individuals from ill-informed judgments or social rejection. When religious and LGBTQ+ communities hurl verbal assaults, too many are caught in the crosshairs.
As a society, it’s time for change.
I want to be very clear: I’m not advocating for structural or doctrinal changes, nor seeking for anyone to criticize or condemn my faith or anyone else’s. I love, honor and respect my faith tradition. I also acknowledge that many LGBTQ+ people feel marginalized and no longer wish to associate with religion. I honor their agency, and I don’t want to be considered a standard for anyone else. But even though we may not all see eye to eye, we can interact with others in a better way.
Religious communities can be protectors of religious freedom and create refuge for anyone who desires to worship Christ, regardless of orientation. Conversely, those within the LGBTQ+ community should seek to build bridges with people of faith and demonstrate respect. Both sides should model the respect, understanding and compassion they hope to receive. None of us can fight hate with hate.
I have tried, however imperfectly, to model this in my own interactions with Deseret Book, a religious-based publisher. As someone who has published with Deseret Book, I knew once my engagement was announced my publisher would be in a difficult position, and likely receive pressure to discontinue my books.
Given the current social climate, both options — either keeping them on the shelves or removing them — could lead to a negative public response. Some suggested I fight the issue or stage a protest.
But I am tired of seeing defensiveness, anger and animosity play out between people of faith and LGBTQ+ individuals.
Instead, I met with the president of Deseret Book and requested that my books (a memoir about being gay in the church and a guide for members who want to be better allies) be removed from the company’s catalog. It was a difficult decision, but I wanted to show there is a better way.
Deseret Book met my request with understanding and love. It went above and beyond my expectations by giving me the publishing rights to my memoir, “Without the Mask.” And they offered to give me the inventory they had on hand. I believe the way Deseret Book responded reflects their desire to also avoid contention. I feel comforted knowing I can personally continue distributing my books through other channels. I feel at peace with my past as I move toward my future.
Like my work at BYU, the political and social challenges we face are monumental. But unity can be achieved, and no effort is wasted. We can replace criticism with empathy. Even individuals with opposing points of view can find common ground.
In order to preserve our relationships, our communities and our republic, we must reinvest in the principles that unite us: peace, compromise and a more perfect union. We cannot just settle for legal protections alone — we have to protect each other as well.
Charlie Bird is the author of Without the Mask: Coming Out and Coming Into God’s Light.