There have to be men out there like us: committed to the Gospel, if not the culture of the church, she says. I nod in agreement. Mormon, but normal. Two Normons in a sea of Boremons and Whoremons.

My throat closes against the words I can’t swallow, not one more time. Because it’s not true, what they’re telling me – what they’ve been telling me since I was a child. There cannot be only one way to be a woman. My identity cannot be something I’ve never felt.

My throat closes against the words I can't swallow, not one more time. Because it's not true, what they're telling me--what they've been telling me since I was a child. There cannot be only one way to be a woman. My identity cannot be something I've never felt.

You are the one who takes care of you, I tell myself.

But every time I go to church with you, I feel like everyone's trying to trap me in a room and convert me.' Which, in truth, they are. 'I want you, and your family, to love me for who I am,' he shouts, 'To let me be who I am.