What It’s Like to Be LGBTQ+ and Mormon: Stories of Faith, Family, and Coming Out
Let me tell you something outrageous, luminous, and wholly uncomfortable: being LGBTQ+ in the Mormon Church is a bit like being a rainbow in a sepia photograph. You’re colourful. You’re vibrant. You’re alive. And yet the picture insists on being printed in only one shade.
And so it begins.
Nathan Kitchen’s memoir, The Boughs of Love, isn’t just a moving entry into the canon of LGBTQ+ nonfiction memoirs—it’s a spiritual saga, a deeply personal exorcism of silence, and perhaps most importantly, a field guide to surviving the paradoxes of being both queer and Mormon in a world that often asks you to pick one. And do it quickly, preferably with a smile on your face and a casserole in hand.
Here’s the thing. Religion, particularly in its orthodox forms, thrives on certainty. And queerness, bless its divine ambiguity, thrives on fluidity. So when someone like Kitchen sits at the intersection of those two forces, sparks will fly. And occasionally burn.
In The Boughs of Love, Kitchen recounts his journey from an adopted child raised in Utah Valley—that bastion of cheerful Mormon orthodoxy—through his years of missionary work, temple marriage, fatherhood, and eventually, coming out to his wife, his children, and his entire faith community. He doesn’t just dip a toe into the mess; he cannonballs into it. And what a glorious, heart-shattering splash it makes.
This is what makes it one of the best LGBTQ+ Mormon memoirs currently in circulation: it does not flinch.
Coming Out in Zion
Coming out in general is already something of a spiritual striptease. There are layers and timing and carefully measured reveals. But coming out in the LDS Church? That’s more akin to standing up during General Conference and announcing you’re the lead singer of a punk band now, thank you very much, and by the way, your eyeliner is from Sephora.
Kitchen captures that fear, that trembling tension between authenticity and belonging. What if they stop loving me? What if I lose my family? These aren’t theoretical questions. They’re the sort of spiritual quicksand that has swallowed too many queer Latter-day Saints whole.
And the stakes are generational. Kitchen isn’t some restless teenager with a TikTok account and a vague sense of injustice. He’s a father. He has skin in the game—namely, five children he fears losing, and a legacy of faith that taught him both to serve and to hide.
The Theology of Silence
One of the most poignant elements of The Boughs of Love is Kitchen’s exploration of what I’ll call the “Theology of Silence.” In Mormon culture, silence is often equated with strength. Suffer in silence. Endure quietly. Smile through your damnation.
Kitchen refuses.
His memoir is a loud, unrepentant counter-liturgy. A hymn of flesh and breath. A rebellion against the idea that queer people must contort themselves into spiritual origami to be worthy of love, community, and God.
In doing so, he joins a growing chorus of queer Mormon voices challenging the Church’s teachings and policies. Scholars like Taylor Petrey have dissected the theological roots of gender and sexuality in Mormonism (https://press.uchicago.edu/ucp/books/book/chicago/T/bo50293191.html), while communities like Affirmation (https://affirmation.org) provide refuge for LGBTQ+ members who refuse to be erased.
But Kitchen’s voice is different. Not academic. Not even strictly activist. It’s fatherly. It’s pastoral. And it’s deeply Mormon in tone and cadence—which is what makes it all the more devastating.
Love, Actually
At the core of The Boughs of Love is, unsurprisingly, love. Love for children. Love for the Church. Love for his husband, Matthew. And perhaps most radical of all: love for himself.
Because to love yourself as a queer person in a religious context that has so long told you you are broken is not just an act of defiance. It is an act of resurrection.
This book is an altar call for those still hiding. It’s also a challenge to families who think acceptance is the same thing as silence. Spoiler alert: it’s not.
For those navigating their own queer Mormon intersections, Kitchen’s memoir offers more than catharsis. It offers companionship. And for those outside this experience, it offers insight, discomfort, and maybe, just maybe, change.
Final Word
In the end, The Boughs of Love is less a story about leaving the Church and more a story about refusing to leave yourself behind. And that’s the kind of salvation we should all be evangelizing.
So read it. Share it. And if you’re in a pew next Sunday, remember: someone sitting nearby might be silently wondering if they’re still welcome in Zion. Make their answer obvious.
