Growing up a gay Mormon child is really difficult. The first person I came out to was my bishop, a man from our neighborhood whose house I played at when I was a child. I came out to my parents soon after. I was 15. After that, I told each of my priesthood leaders throughout the years in an effort to be open, honest, and have them help me change my sexuality. It was difficult when my dad became my bishop. In my last interview with him before I left on a mission, I “confessed” some things to him that he didn’t know about. It never crossed my mind that these interviews could be inappropriate in any way. It was the bishop! He was guided by god! It was awkward and made me very uncomfortable, but that’s standard for any interview with a closeted gay Mormon. At the time of these interviews I appreciated the guidance and encouragement I received but the only real thing that I gained from them was a deep and complete rejection of who I am. It wasn’t just these interviews of course, but they served as a way to formalize the church’s rejection and condemnation of me for being sexual, for being gay, for being me.