23-year-old artist, musician, and filmmaker Vienna Boyes grew up in a Southern California home most would call a breeding ground for creativity. Every corner of her childhood was infused with art, music, and the permission to dream. “That was how we were taught to cope, express ourselves, aspire,” she says of her family’s ethos. Creativity wasn’t just encouraged—it was the language her family used to make sense of the world.
Each now an artist of their own variety, Vienna and her four older brothers were also brought up in a “super religious” household. Her dad (who works in fashion) has been in a bishopric much of Vienna’s life; and since the family’s move almost a decade ago to Provo, UT, now serves as bishop of a BYU student ward. Vienna’s mother (a painter) was her Young Women’s president both in San Clemente, CA and then again in Provo as soon as they moved during Vienna’s high school years. Vienna says she’s “always felt very sensitive to energy, divinity, and the presence of love in the world. Growing up in a religious family, that aligned well with me and was easy to take in.”
At the same time, Vienna realized she was gay at 12 years old. Looking back, she remembers experiences as young as first grade where she was drawn to girls and developed early crushes. From a young age, Vienna also observed an older brother experiencing extreme anxiety, mental health problems, and seizures so intense he had to start online school. This brother soon after came out as gay. When young Vienna heard his story, she quietly realized that was her story, too.
“Watching my family navigate that was fascinating, because there hadn’t been anyone else in our family to come out as gay,” says Vienna. Witnessing the difficulties her brother encountered with his mental health and eventually leaving the church also terrified Vienna as to what might happen if she eventually came out, as the only daughter in the family and caboose to a tribe of brothers who “adored me and put me on a pedestal like this life was made for me.” Vienna told her mom about her attractions at age 13, but then dropped it, unsure of what life would look like if she didn’t fulfill expectations or have a husband.
Throughout middle and high school, Vienna knew being gay “was part of my life but I also ran from it so much. I dated a boy for a year, because I was so in love with my best (girl) friend.”
Vienna decided to go on a mission after high school. Prior, she had watched her mother become a huge ally for her brother, and loved how she spoke of the queer community. At the same time, internally, Vienna was experiencing anxiety, stress, and panic attacks almost weekly, realizing there was a significant something going on she couldn’t run from anymore. She started going to therapy, hoping to avoid going down a path of extreme mental health duress. Quietly, she navigated the juxtaposition of her identity with her religious upbringing in emotional prayers in which she realized she never felt her orientation was a sin or evil part of her; but she carried so much confusion as to whether the shame she felt was doctrine or society-induced. “I felt so broken at the time.”
Once Vienna realized it was physically damaging her body to not be authentic, she decided to come out to her older brother, and then to a few of her closest friends. She says, “Once I started coming out to people, I felt this thing I’m experiencing and person I am is light and goodness, and my intentions are pure. The way it feels in my soul is beautiful and true to myself.”
Then, Vienna went on a mission. Houston, Texas showed her a whole new world, and an unexpected part of the journey was how many openly gay people she’d encounter. While door knocking one day, one woman said she’d “never convert,” but invited Vienna and her companion over for dinner out of kindness, saying all people deserved to be treated like humans. At that dinner, Vienna got to know someone who’d become very important in her life. K* was queer, married to an ex-Mormon, seemed to already know everything about the church, and taught Vienna lessons she deeply valued, one being, “It’s more important to be honest than kind. Being honest is being kind.” During one interaction, K spoke about being gay, and seeing Vienna’s reaction, pointedly told her how there’s a beauty and joy in humanity in being yourself, and that you can find true joy even outside a religion. This was a new concept for Vienna, but one that allowed a mind shift that would later prove important.
Vienna also experienced some difficult moments in relation to the LGBTQ+ experience on her mission. One of the friends she’d made in the ward (who was gay) tragically died by suicide. In mourning, Vienna told her mission president about it. His offhand reply, “Oh, that’s too bad” felt eye-opening to Vienna, especially as she knew that her mission president had heard she herself was queer. She no longer felt safe turning to him for guidance on personal matters. While Vienna learned much and especially met many people she loved on her mission, she says stepping off the plane felt like “stepping into a new life.” She felt, “I gave the God I grew up knowing everything I possibly could, and it felt like my way of showing I really did try my best to do this. But I knew now was the time to set myself free from all the expectations I realized were not for me.”
In the first six months after her mission, Vienna’s mental health became worse than it ever had before. She says, “I started going to therapy, worried about suicide and so many things… I’d never felt so hopeless or so much loathing for who I potentially was. I felt if I couldn’t live the life I was expected to live, I didn’t want to live.” But luckily, at the same time, Vienna was surrounded by the support of a group of powerful friends. “We are deeply interdependent. Being able to rely on them and witness how their responses when I came out to them were so beautiful and affirming and hopeful and loving took me out of so many difficult situations. Just being able to rely on them in that way--I am grateful.”
Returning to therapy with “some amazing therapists” helped Vienna navigate future decisions, and eventually she started feeling the right one for her mental health was to stop attending church and do a fresh restart of her life. The hopeless abyss of her past was replaced by a hopeful image of what her future could look like, as she began to see representation online and in real life of “happy beautiful lives and homes with two women.” She says, “Finding it was like breathing—I became addicted to it. THIS is what I want. I felt like the lights had been off in portions of my soul, and I got to turn on all the lights and look at myself. And I thought, ‘This resonates. This is what people are talking about when they talk about love.’ All I’d suppressed I now get to have if I claim the autonomy I deserve.”
After her mission, Vienna did date boys and girls to experiment, but she landed on girls. She says, “I dated a really rad girl for a long time who I’d met through mutual friends, and everything slowly healed for me.” In the past two years, she’s solely dated girls and has had several relationships in which each has taught her a vital something about herself or love in general. She is now dating someone special.
While navigating her own journey, Vienna has also been co-directing and editing a feature documentary film called “Sanctuary,” about creating safe spaces for the LGBTQ+ community in society and religion. Interviewing various subjects who have likewise felt alienated by institutional intolerance proved a cathartic (and at times soul-crushing) experience for Vienna who has in real time been processing everything in her own life. “While doing that project, my other work, and dating girls, it’s felt like I’ve been running. Because everything was so exposed for the first time, tasting that feeling of freedom and authenticity unapologetically right next to excruciating grief – it felt like I was grieving, processing, healing.” But seeing the humanity in those she interviewed was “proof to me that love is boundless and belongs to every human – regardless of their background or anything. Every living thing belongs to it.”
In the process of meeting so many LGBTQ+ friends through PRIDE events, Vienna has developed a new perspective on living out loud. “To me, the queer community is so unbelievable, because to be proud of something society showers shame on and tells you not to be takes so much mindfulness and intention… On the other end of that, I experienced authenticity and joy, and the amount of love I feel in my body now.”
Coming to this fulness has not been easy in all realms, as while her family loves her and remains a close unit, Vienna has had to navigate tough talks at times. “The most vulnerable of the conversations I’ve experienced are within family – because the worth and value I get is so much more tender and intimate; so if they were to say something horrible it’d be way worse.” One family member in particular said some things that devastated Vienna after she first came out to them. Thankfully, her mother entered the room shortly after and held her while she cried. But since, Vienna has had poignant sit-down conversations with the family member that have been tough, tricky and ultimately healing as Vienna has been able to finally feel she is seen for who she is and not as a broken soul. “I’ve sat and cried, begging for understanding more times than I can count. It’s part of the journey, but so worth it.” Vienna is touched that now, this individual will text Vienna’s girlfriend just to see if she needs anything, and have sit down relationship conversations with and treat them the same as anyone else. Vienna says, “All the pain, shame, hard conversations that happened with family, leaving the religion I grew up with... All of it was made worth it because of the feeling I get to experience and how I get to live now.”
Vienna’s friend group has remained “so unbelievable.” She says, “Even though most of them are in the church, they are so understanding and seek to be present with my experience even though it’s different than theirs. Maintaining relationships when you believe different things is extremely valuable and does nothing but strengthen friendships, despite the odds.”
Art remains the centerpiece of Vienna’s life. Beyond her film work, she is in a band with nine of her best girl friends and they “play music constantly.” She says, “Music is my coping mechanism; it’s how I express emotion and navigate life. It’s the greatest blessing and tool in my life.” Their band, Girl Band the Band (aka Hardly Know Her) played in the Marriott Center and won BYU’s Battle of the Bands last year, and has booked other gigs throughout Utah. Vienna sings lead and plays guitar and bass, though she can play just about any instrument. The uniquely talented videographer and filmmaker also loves drawing, sculpting, and photography.
Always finding the beauty and the beat in the pain, Vienna says these lyrics (from “Life is Hard” by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros) best describe the soundtrack of her life right now…
Life is something to behold
But if the truth is to be told
Let us not leave out any part
Do not fear, it’s safe to say it hear…
Come celebrate, life is hard
All life is all we are
