Without the Mask (But There’s a Pandemic, Charlie!)

Tyler Perry

Introduction

In late 2019 or early 2020, I was having lunch with my gay mentor, my gaytriarch, if you will.  I was expressing my concerns with a current relationship, as well as my hopes and fears about my plans to come out to my family.  He asked me a couple of questions that have stuck with me ever since.

“Have you accepted the fact that you’re gay?” he asked.  There was no judgement in his voice.

“Yes,” I answered, without hesitation.  I had come a long way in the last year.  I was in my first real relationship, and I knew that I was happier because of my decision to date.

He considered my response briefly.  Then, in a nurturing tone, he asked, “Have you embraced it?”

I paused.  I had not expected the question, nor had I really considered the concept before.  “I’m not sure that I have,” I finally answered.  “I know that I’ve accepted that I am gay, but I think that there is still a part of me that is scared about that.”

He nodded understandingly.  “You should make sure that you are right with you before you come out,” he advised.  “If you haven’t embraced it, people will try to tear it down.”

Here was a man who had come out before the world was ready to accept gay people, a man who had suffered personally because of his decision to be who he was born to be.  His advice was from the perspective of a man who had lived through the AIDS crisis, who had had homophobic family members try to tear his life apart.  My situation was never going to be as bad as his.  But his advice to me was to be rock solid in my embrace of who I am.

I took that lesson to heart, and while coming out was still not easy, and it was a roller coaster of an adventure as I came out to my entire family over the course of a week, the lesson of those simple questions gave me the strength to overcome my fears and say the words “I’m gay” out loud.

 The Man Behind the Mask

Without the Mask: Coming Out and into God’s Light by Charlie Bird is a memoir/spiritual guidance book by the famed man behind the BYU mascot, Cosmo.  Charlie came out to the world in 2019 as both Cosmo and gay, and he describes the book as the book he wished he had had when he was 14.

I approached the book with a skepticism, or perhaps, even cynicism.  The book is published by Deseret Book, and I expected to see the usual “you can be gay, just don’t act on it” drivel that the church tends to promote as love and acceptance.  Overall, I was pleased to see that Charlie presents a more nuanced view of the intersection of his sexual orientation and his religious convictions than I anticipated.  However, Charlie never denounces “gay but don’t act on it” thinking, and may even implicitly endorse it.

Charlie, if you ever read this, by some miracle, and you feel that I have mischaracterized your beliefs, I would love to discuss it further with you.  Perhaps over dinner.  It will be my treat.  I can pick you up after 7.

The book takes on an interesting structure of being non-chronological coming out adventure interspersed with religious lessons.  In the introduction of the book, Charlie states that his intent was to have these chapters act as, more or less, couplets, with the coming out portion of the story being mirrored by some doctrinal lesson to support or relate to it.  This sometimes works, but most of the time it feels that integrating the lessons into the stories or another structure would have serviced this goal better.

For instance, the first chapter tells of Charlie’s experiences in Washington D.C., first when he joined up with other Mormons to go to a Pride event, on a Sunday, after skipping half of Sacrament (you rebellious sinner, you), then at the D.C. temple.  The second chapter deals with the exclusion that Charlie felt from the other young men in his ward growing up, and a lesson about the feminine characteristics of Jesus.  These are nice accounts, and the writing is heartfelt, but the connection between these was tenuous.  The rest of the book largely seems to follow this pattern.  This is not a bad thing, but it does seem to conflict with the stated intent in the introduction of the book.

I resonated with Charlie’s account in a few places.  He describes feeling different from the other boys in his young men’s group, saying he felt like a “freak” and that he was self-conscious about his mannerisms.  I remember enduring similar emotions, though I had buried my feelings way down low, where nobody needs to know.  The first time that I ever saw exposed female breasts was while watching a Bruce Lee movie (Enter the Dragon, I believe).  I was deep in the swells of puberty at the time, but I immediately looked away and felt repulsed by the sight.  I tied that reaction to what I had been trained at church about how to respond to and feel about pornography.  I was proud of myself for that reaction.

A couple years later, I was spending some time with my Mormon friends.  We were in high school, probably about 16 or 17.  One of the boys started a conversation about how a girl had a nice butt.  The other boys chimed in their concurrence, and I could only respond with, “I don’t know, I guess, I’m just not really into butts.”  I had convinced myself that I was just as straight as the rest of them, but when they talked about girls, I could not relate to them.  I had some effective shields to deflect suspicion, mostly rooted in my nerdy personality, but I knew I was different from the other boys.  Charlie brought those memories and those feelings back to my mind, and I have to commend him for creating such a relatable narrative for making his points.

Charlie also shares a bit about how his mission helped him to accept the gayer side of his personality.  I can attest that LDS missions are extremely gay.  Until I started dating men, the gayest experiences of my life were on my mission.  So, as Charlie describes using dance and cake decorating to share the gospel, I thought of the bonds I forged with other missionaries.

I had a friend who was one of my leaders for well over half of my mission.  Early on, we bonded over long phone conversations where we complained about one of our zone leaders, talked about our greenies, and shared lessons and spiritual experiences.  Perhaps my favorite habit was making jokes about how my greenie and I were toeing the line on the “same room, but not the same bed” rule from the Missionary Handbook.  Lots of jokes involving phallic fruits, peanut butter, and the movement of furniture to facilitate companionship unity.

All this to say, LDS missions are gay.  It causes me genuine concern that so many LDS missionaries return home to attend one of the most LGBTQ-unfriendly universities in the country after having such a gay experience for two years.  Charlie captures this idea well in his description of the mission.  But he also captures another idea so many gay returned missionaries struggle with.

“I served faithfully, so why am I still gay?”

Charlie offers the conclusion that instead of seeing your sexual orientation as being incompatible with the teachings of the church, you should try to frame it as a vehicle through which the Lord can work through you.  He goes on to describe experiences where he could offer compassion to others, help a little girl with her coloring book, or change the way that Cosmo was presented at BYU football games.  This is a commendable attitude, especially for those who are trying to reconcile who they are with what the church tells them they should be.  But it is also the line where my criticism of the book and Charlie’s position really begins.

I Wanna Know What Love Is

Going into this book, I wondered how Charlie would approach the foundation of what being gay is and how it relates to the church and its policies and doctrines.  After about five hours of listening to Charlie’s gentle, but manly, voice confidently reading the words he had put to the page with nimble fingers, his brow glistening with sweat from the heat of the studio lamp, as his lips pressed softly against the breath screen…

Sorry, I… uh, got a little sidetracked there.

Charlie sidesteps the issue of dating, except to say that he will not date women.  This is disappointing to me, though I understand that he was trying to write a book that would be useful, though not necessarily a guide, for traversing the intersection of faith and orientation.  However, it feels just as vapid as the quotation he gives of M. Russel Ballard’s answer to his question at the Devotional forum.

I once posed the question “is there a place for me?”  Charlie received an assurance from M. Russel Ballard that the answer to this question is “yes”.  As I listened to the section, a follow-up question rolled through my brain.  “Where?”  Charlie, like M. Russel Ballard, does not offer an answer to this question.  Perhaps the closest that he comes to an answer is when he says that he does not have all the answers.  I would refer Charlie to another essay on this blog where I address that dodge.

Charlie, if you’re here already, you may as well read that one too.  Maybe we can discuss it.  If you’re worried about social distancing, I get it.  We all need to look out for each other right now.  How about a Zoom chat?  We can bake desserts together as we discuss heavy theological and philosophical topics.

I have to give Charlie proper credit and praise for one story.  He tells of a conversation he had with a family member who was going through the process of coming out.  The question came up, “If you had a button that could make you straight, would you push it?”

Charlie’s answer to this question is awesome.  He claims that he would not push it because being made straight would change who he is as a person.  He says that he would “destroy” the button.  This was the part of the book that made me smile.  I was glad to see this sort of self-acceptance from Charlie.

Charlie also calls out the toxicity in the church and at church-run schools like BYU towards LGBTQ people.  However, in what seems like almost the same breath, he also points out the toxicity in the LGBTQ community.  I am not here to say that the LGBTQ community does not have toxic elements.  It does.  However, a lot of the causes of that toxicity are reactionary to the toxicity from conservative, Christian groups, like the Mormons.  Charlie seems to use a what-aboutism to protect the church from the fair and valid criticisms that he acknowledges.

Charlie gives an account of a list of damaging and spiteful quotes from leaders of the church about homosexuals.  He rightly notes how hurtful those statements are.  But when his friend rebuked him for being upset by those quotes, betrayed by those quotes, Charlie decides to delete them from his phone and replace them with goals to recondition himself as a believing member of the church.  This ends up as an example of Charlie framing people who have left the church as being bitter and spiteful, a common tactic by church members to discourage critical analysis of the church’s teachings and policies.

While I agree that it is not healthy to obsess over those things, as Charlie was apparently doing, ignoring those statements, or pretending that they do not exist is not healthy either.  Later on, he describes the extreme homophobia of BYU football players in the locker room, homophobia that is endemic to the university.  Maybe the university has made strides, but those ideas are rooted in the church policies and teachings of church of leaders, such as those quotes he had on his phone.

The toxicity in the LGBTQ community is often borne of those same ideas.  People like Charlie should not be mocked or maligned for their decisions to try to balance religion with their queer identities, and I would like to see issues of substance abuse and reckless promiscuity rooted out of the community.

But, Charlie, when you decide to start dating, call me.  Just send me an email, and I will give you my number.  I promise you a fun time.

You Need Two Tokens to Play This Game

Charlie, I was held back immensely because of the church’s overt support of California’s Prop 22 and Prop 8, as well as the homophobic teachings of church leaders.  You can’t just handwave that lost time and opportunity away.  Like you said in the book, “by their fruits, ye shall know them”.  I am not saying you should dwell on the hurt, but that doesn’t mean that you should excuse it either.  These are real damages, and while you acknowledge that the church and its members need to be better, I am concerned that you are going to be used as an excuse for why they don’t.  “Look at how good Charlie Bird is doing, and he’s gay.”

My greatest concern about this book, going in, was about tokenism.  Charlie published an op-ed in February 2019, and, a short while after my coming out, my mother shared that story with me, perhaps in the hope of rekindling the flame of faith that had carried me through a two-year mission and BYU-Idaho.  Look at Charlie, right?  He’s found a way to make it work.  Obviously, these efforts are taken in love, but Charlie’s account muddies the waters on addressing the real concerns that so many queer Mormons and ex-Mormons have about the church, its teachings, and its policies.  Charlie knew these things, wrestled with them, and appears to have decided to ignore them again, to place them back on his shelf as things he will just have to accept right now.

That would be bad enough for the tokenism in this book.  However, Charlie goes on to defend the statements.  He argues that church leaders made those comments as a condition of their day, that perhaps the Lord inspired them to say those vile and hurtful things to enable some future change.  This musing brings to my mind the sorts of questions that are asked about the church’s record on other civil rights issues, which I think are summarized with one simple, though difficult to answer question.  Why is the Lord’s one true church on the earth not at the front of these civil rights issues, leading the charge?

I would very much like to hear your answer to that question, Charlie.  Perhaps over breadsticks.  We could go to an Italian restaurant, order some, and converse about the church’s long history of being on the wrong end of history with respect to civil rights and how that culture has created a legacy of pain for the LGBTQ members of the church.  Maybe set the stage with some candlelight…

For Me? You Shouldn't Have

Without the Mask probably was not written with somebody like me in mind.  I think this book is best read by someone like my grandmother, who may be struggling to understand the complex feelings and emotions that I have gone through as a queer member of the church.  Charlie’s book has the right amount of insight into the queer struggle along with the apologetics necessary to make it accessible to the ordinary member of the church.

I hesitate to recommend it to the people who need Charlie’s story the most, however.  The lack of insight into dating, the queer place in the kingdom of God, and the tacit excusing of harmful homophobic teachings and policies gives me real pause.  This book may have been written before the February policy change at Charlie’s alma mater.  I wonder if he is as upset as I am about the fact that the university spit all over the work that he did to try to make the school less hostile towards queer students.  The patterns of abuse within the church and its education centers continues to this day, but Charlie does not really engage with that.  He mentions the nuances and difficulties of navigating faith and a queer identity, but maybe he believes that the answers that he’s received are too sacred to share, which would be a real shame.

Charlie, you have a platform that I could only dream of having.  I genuinely support your mission to help LGBTQ youth within the church.  The suicidality of LGBTQ kids is too high, and it breaks my heart.  I yearn to be able to help them.  But you can, in a way that I cannot right now.  You can reach them and speak to them.  Sure, you were Cosmo and you were fantastic at it, but that is just the beginning of your ability to reach them.

But the church and BYU are continuing to do and say things that harm those kids.  Our kids.  They are in our community, and we have a responsibility to them.  You and I made it through, Charlie.  We are both still working to figure out what we want and where we want to be.  And we are at different places in that journey.  But we are not vulnerable any longer.  Those kids need us.  They need you.  They need you to speak for them.

You have been out doing press runs to promote this book, which was published by Deseret Book, a for-profit arm of the church.  You have been speaking about how you have found a way to stay in the church and be gay.  You have refrained from commenting on the church and BYU’s recent record on LGBTQ issues.  When you do that, it makes it seem like you just don’t care about things like that.  But I know that you do care!

In listening to the audiobook, I could feel the anguish that you felt at confronting the harmful things that church leaders and members have said.  I winced at the story of the men in the D.C. temple asking you if you were waiting for your sweetheart.  I got angry at the story of the BYU football players in the locker room.  But above all, I was upset with you for turning off your brain and accepting the hollow platitudes of a man who claimed to speak for God, but who had nothing of substance to say.

I want to join you in the fight to protect our youth, even if I disagree with the conclusions that you have drawn.  After listening to the audiobook, I have a real respect for you and your struggle.  I think you can help a lot of kids, and I hope that you do.

I also genuinely hope that you find yourself a man who will love you and who you will love, just the way you are.  I hope that you find that companionship.  I hope that you have not only accepted your queer identity, which it is abundantly clear that you have accepted it, but that you have embraced it.  I hope that you are not just waiting for the resurrection to make you straight.  You said you would destroy the button that would make you straight.  Charlie, the current understanding of the resurrection is that button.

Epilogue

So, I just want to point something out in the epilogue.  It is unrelated to my overall review of the book, but it was unintentionally my favorite part of the whole experience.  It makes me fairly certain that the book was written before March 2020 and has been going through edits and pre-publication work ever since.  I am supposing this because the line has the unintended consequence of being so hilarious that it pulled me out the book and caused me to laugh for a solid minute.

Let us all remember that this is 2020, when Charlie Bird wrote that he is dreaming of a world where no one will have to wear a mask.