THE DEAN FAMILY

Annika Dean’s life hasn’t exactly followed the idyllic path she remembers seeing displayed on a felt board in Primary at a young age. She was the only child in her row raised by divorced parents, and she would later go through a divorce herself. Both of her children identify as LGBTQ. And Annika and her oldest son have each survived a separate mass shooting. Annika Dean’s life redefines the concept of “All these things shall give thee experience.” And it is with an admirable amount of strength and resilience that she excavates through the rubble to share the rainbows of her past decade with us. 

Annika grew up in Utah County, the middle of five children. She remembers hearing the kids around her at church sing “Families Can Be Together Forever,” while knowing her family was breaking apart. Her youngest brother was just an infant at the time. Both of her parents moved on and remarried within two years, which eventually brought a total of nine siblings into her world. She was mostly raised by her mother and stepfather in Orem, and when she reflects on her childhood, the word chaos comes to mind. While she loved her family, she dreamed of having “the ideal” someday. 

LGBTQ issues weren’t even on Annika’s radar as a youth, except for being slightly frustrated on occasion that so many popular musicians were gay. Annika remembers a speaker at a morningside giving a whole talk about how evil Mick Jagger was, after which she lividly protested to all around her. “Maybe because I adore the Stones,” she laughs. “But I’ve always considered it one of my most important duties as a mother to teach my children the ABCs of rock-n-roll.”

Seeing the movie Philadelphia while in college marked a defining point for Annika. She loved the way the family supported Tom Hanks’ character and his partnership. She pledged if she ever had a gay child, she’d love them the same way. 

At BYU, Annika studied Art Education while long-distance dating a non-LDS Georgia Tech engineering student who she’d met at a summer job. At the Chili’s in Orem, Annika shared with a friend she’d probably marry her boyfriend, and her friend started bawling, and even enlisted their server in her breakdown. Both the server and Annika’s boss at work (who was like a third father to her) warned her of the severe consequences of marrying outside the temple. Annika contemplated their advice, but really wished those closest to her had respected her ability to make her own choices. 

She later ended up marrying the friend of one of her closest childhood friends in the Mesa, Arizona temple. That marriage lasted 14 years and Annika’s grateful it resulted in two sons who were ages 9 and 11 at the time of Annika’s divorce. She shared 50/50 custody with her ex, and during a solo winter break, Annika went on a vacation. She ended up in the middle of a mass shooting at the Ft. Lauderdale, FL airport on January 6, 2017. As shots were fired, Annika dropped down in prayer, and said a hero literally shielded her from the gunfire that would take five lives and injure many more. It was a miracle she survived. 

The following year, Annika’s son Austin was a freshman at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, FL (and son Brandon attended the middle school next door) when yet another shooter took to the halls and ultimately took the lives of 17 students and staff and injured 17 more. Austin survived the February 14, 2018 massacre, though five of his close friends and his beloved cross country coach did not. “Watching my child suffer from the tragedy was hard. My experience at the airport had already impacted and changed him. He once was carefree, but he grew up overnight.” 

After these incidents, Annika struggled with survivor’s guilt. The life of Alaina Petty, the beautiful daughter of one of her close LDS friends, was taken in the school shooting, but it was ultimately Alaina’s parents who helped Annika heal. When Annika first hugged Alaina’s mom as they mourned together, the first words out of her friend’s mouth were “I’m glad Austin survived.” Annika still wears a blue band to honor Alaina’s memory; on it is printed her name and “Forever in our hearts.” 

After this second tragic incident, Annika joined a survivors’ support group called The Rebels Project. She attended one of their gatherings in Colorado where she met fellow Florida survivors from the Pulse nightclub shooting. They bonded through sharing their experiences. “They were my first transgender friends,” she says. A middle school art teacher, Annika has always taken great effort to make her classroom an inclusive, loving place, and ultimately, her sons knew she would be a safe person for them as they each came out over subsequent years.

Her oldest, Austin, had participated in Scouts and his ward youth group, and had saved $4,000 toward a mission. But last year, he came out to his mom as bisexual and has decided not to participate anymore. Annika says Austin really struggled at first to come out to her, so nervous she might not love him – which was definitely not the case. He is now thriving as a student at Florida State University. Austin says he wishes the LDS church made more space for people who don’t fit the “straight mold” as it’s difficult to sit and listen to ideals that don’t pertain to you. 

His younger brother, Brandon, now a 16-year-old junior at MSD, had wanted to stop attending church years ago. Not a fan of organized religion in general, his discomfort grew in church settings as he started to question his own sexuality. Brandon says he feels more comfortable now “just chilling with myself.” Brandon identifies as pansexual, and looks forward to a future serving in the Marine Corps and then studying psychology. He hopes to someday be a therapist and helicopter pilot.

Annika says she remembers shielding her boys from LGBTQ characters in entertainment when they were younger, but she later happily took them multiple times to see Adam Lambert front Queen in concert, as well as the Bohemian Rhapsody film about Freddie Mercury’s life. “I was slowly turning to be more empathetic to the LGBTQ community before I knew my sons were a part of it. We watch It’s a Wonderful Life every Christmas. This year we added an extra movie about a gay man falling in love,” she says.

While her sons no longer attend church, Annika still tunes in via Zoom weekly and happily feeds the sister missionaries whenever she can, out of gratitude for the many who fed her “the food of the gods” in Hong Kong when she was a missionary there 25 years ago. Annika says that right now, it’s too painful to imagine walking into a church building for her, but she’s grateful for those who do show her and her family support, like her dear friend who ministers to her, as well as her minister’s husband, who serves as a loving stake president.

Recently while at work, Annika told a gay colleague about her sons. “That’s great!” he replied, and his elated reaction shocked her. “I’m so used to the opposite reaction, like mourners at a funeral.” She’s realizing that words mean a lot. Words matter. While Annika has always felt comforted by the words of Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, who has often delivered much needed messages about mental health and a quote that once echoed her heart as he stated, ”May we hope for schools where students are taught – not terrified they will be shot,” recent talks have been quite painful for Annika. Especially one by the same apostle that referenced taking up figurative musket fire against people like her sons. “Those words hurt,” she says. “It’s kind of hard – impossible, really – to be all in when we’re not loving our children the way I believe God wants us to.”

As the tragiversary of the Parkland shooting approaches next week, and she reflects on all the various aspects of her life that did not go quite as planned, Annika envisions a new hopeful future for her sons. While life can still be quite difficult at times, Annika says she is grateful now more than ever for support groups. “The formulaic idea that if you do this, you get this – it just doesn’t happen for everybody. Over half the church is single. But sometimes church can feel like an MLM. For some at the top -- temple recommend holders, married – being in church is easy. But if you’re at the bottom – divorced, widowed, LGBTQ, etc., it’s kind of painful. People don’t leave the church because they don’t believe, but often because they don’t belong.” 

Annika continues, “I’m just grateful for the support I got from people who understand what it’s like to be in a mass shooting, and what it’s like to raise LGBTQ kids in a devout religious environment. I’m grateful for the wisdom and support of people who really know and have been there.” 

Annika recently attended an art exhibit during which unexpected gunfire went off, as part of the production design. Hearing the shot triggered her, and after, she wrote a note to the museum. Within a day, they had posted signage to provide a heads up to those who might likewise be startled. Annika felt so grateful they didn’t minimize or ignore her feelings. She appreciated feeling heard. And she hopes that by sharing her story, others will feel the same.

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