Last Saturday night, 42 parents met at the base of Y Mountain in Provo, UT. Industrial-strength flashlights in hand, they were ready to hike to the top. To get there, they’d need to circumvent BYU’s newly installed orange fencing and prohibitive signage, as well as bypass two patrol cars parked at the path’s entrance. The night was cold, but they were on fire with the fervor of their mission – to shine a rainbow of light that would remind their LGBTQ kids that they’re seen and loved. Charalece Talbot helped distribute the lights (that have lived in her garage over the past year) to the other parents – many anonymous, all willing to risk arrest and fines to complete their mission. Some might call it a protest, but for these parents, Saturday night’s hike to the Y was part of a movement.
This would be the third rainbow-themed lighting of the 380-foot-tall Y that has become the nationally recognized insignia for BYU, a campus that as of late has had a complicated relationship with its LGBTQ population due to various policies and speeches bestowed by its leadership. The lighting of the Y events, initiated in March of 2021 by Charalece’s son, Brad, has garnered national attention, and BYU’s finger wagging.
Charalece never predicted any of this would be her path when her firstborn entered her and husband Paul’s world in Pleasant Grove, UT 24 years ago. Brad is the oldest of their six children (which also include Preston – 21, Kailene – 19, Breanna – 17, Sterling – 14, and Aliza – 9). When he was younger, Charalece only had mild suspicions Brad might be gay, but she never asked. It wasn’t until he was serving a mission in Winnipeg, Canada that Brad finally emailed his parents to tell them about his orientation. Charalece appreciated this approach, as it gave her time to process and study before he returned home nine months later, and most importantly, to “not say something stupid I would later regret.” Charalece turned to church resources for guidance and was a little surprised at how little she found, so she turned via blogs to “the experts” – i.e. the parents in this space, much as she had sought out forums of a different kind when her son Preston was diagnosed with autism as a toddler. Charalece was dismayed to find how rare it was for a gay member to stay in the church. She mourned a bit as she came to terms with the notion that her son, who was serving a mission, “might not always be a part of the church I love in the way I thought.” But Charalece clung to her faith that, “The Lord has been a part of our whole journey; I knew I could not do this without Christ.”
Once back from Canada in 2018, Brad started his education at BYU, from where he would later graduate in 2021. (He’s headed to Boston College this fall to pursue a MSW). During Brad’s junior year at the Y, he decided he needed to do something to help his fellow LGBTQ peers feel a little less alone – a common reality for many he’d met. He started Color the Campus, an initiative asking allies to show up to campus in rainbow colors twice a year, once in September and once on March 4 – the anniversary of BYU’s Honor Code policy reversal in 2020 that confused and angered many LGBTQ students. A day he wanted to make something positive. Brad’s @colorthecampus IG handle states his mission: “We will support, protect, befriend, and love members of the LGBTQ+ community at all CES schools.”
The Talbots’ extended family has always shown enthusiastic support for Brad, and Charalece was touched when all his BYU cousins showed up in full rainbow gear to support his first event. She was even more moved when on the first two “Rainbow Days,” it rained in Provo, casting beautiful rainbows across the sky and visible from campus. “Sometimes you just want God to give a sign – and sometimes he does it in such simple ways,” she says.
But Brad’s movement was not without backlash. A protest was advertised by alt-right group DezNat, though its showing was paltry, and Charalece says Brad has received countless cruel messages from keyboard warriors. While the Rainbow Days can be hard for Brad, she admires his dedication to the cause.
The first lighting of the Y (on 3/4/21) was carried out by 42 well-organized allies. After receiving a copy of Brad’s detailed instructions via Google docs, Charalece summoned her like-minded sister to join her for the hike, needing her own arm of support. Charalece was much more nervous than Brad was about repercussions, fearing it could affect his ability to graduate. But Charalece remembers that first lighting as a deeply spiritual experience. When everyone took their posts and first turned on their screen-tinted lights, they let out a cheer. And then a stillness set over the mountain, as they basked in their solidarity and this symbol of love. Charalece began getting texts from family members across the valley, imploring her to look out her window at the rainbow Y. She laughed, realizing the success of their secrecy – no one knew she was actually at the foot of the Y, holding a purple light herself. After an hour, their legs shaking from their awkward slanted perch and cold, the participants made their way down the mountain, only to be met by a crowd of 8-10 students running up, eager to relieve them of their posts and offering to take a turn themselves. “That was when I realized we’d made an impression, we’d done something. Others wanted to be involved. And it was a life lesson. Right when we were thinking, ‘I can’t do this anymore,’ someone showed up to say, ‘Let me take that burden.’ Sometimes we have to pass the baton.”
There were no repercussions from the event, besides a tweet BYU sent clarifying they had not authorized the event. But that night was a turning point for Charalece. She felt, “I’m just a mom, but I just did something that mattered. Being a mom isn’t always tangible. That night I saw I actually did something good. I didn’t just say, ‘I love you;’ I showed my love. I made a difference.” Her participation was also a turning point for Charalece’s relationship with her son, Brad, who she says now has no doubt she fully supports him.
After the lighting, it took days for Charalece to read through the hundreds of messages of support on social media. She remembers bawling, so caught up in the emotion of all the kids saying they felt seen, heard, and loved. “I want them to remember that. When they feel lonely, that there’s no one, I want them to remember the night we lit the Y. They have people, allies, those who love them unconditionally. Hopefully that will carry them as long as they need it.”
The next lighting in the fall was not a secret and approximately 100 people came to hold flashlights, this time many of them LGBTQ+. Again, there were no repercussions. But as both the online support (and backlash) for the lighting events grew, last weekend’s event remained undercover (yet anticipated). When the No Trespassing signs went up, Charalece started to wonder if maybe they should skip it this year, hoping not to put any BYU students or faculty at risk of disciplinary action. But then, a father called her to say, “I think your son did the lighting of the Y. I’ve been talking to some other dragon dads and we want to do it this time. Moms can come, too. I’m not asking permission – I just need to know the logistics and if we can borrow the lights.”
Due to weather, the date shifted three times, and with each change, the pit in Charalece’s stomach grew. “I’ve never felt more anxiety,” she says. Traditionally a quiet and reserved rule follower, Charalece feared having to help summon 42 rounds of bail money from a county jail, or worse. The night before the lighting, she barely slept. But then she felt a strange prompting that brought to mind scripture heroes who had defied the norms: Rebecca regarding her sons’ blessings, Nephi smiting Laban’s head. She heard the words, “Their rules are not my rules. Have courage. I need you to do this.” And she did.
Charalece and Brad were followed last weekend by a film crew from HULU, for a 20/20 segment they’re shooting on LGBTQ LDS members. Much of the series follows church members who (understandably) leave because of their orientation, but reps from the show have told Brad they admire how he is trying to stay and make it work. Charalece herself says she often envies Brad’s relationship with the Savior. “He goes through a lot of crap, and he follows his heart.” As to the naysayers who speak against Brad’s Color the Campus or lighting the Y efforts, Charalece replies, “If you can show me something as good as this or better, I’ll do it. It’s a simple nonviolent thing that has a huge impact.”
Besides the film crew and potentially the police, the Talbots were also nervous DezNat might be on their tail Saturday night as they’d been tipped off, so tensions were high Saturday night. After handing out the final lights, Charalece and Brad were the last to approach the entrance to the path. They walked toward the BYU police, then past them. Like the parents who had hiked up before them, they were not stopped. Once at the top, Brad told the participants their demonstration might be short-lived, knowing the cops could quickly reach them via ATV. He cued the crowd and they each hit the on switch to commence lighting the Y with first the pink and blue hues of the trans flag, to show support to the many suffering from various recent national and local policies. They waited, but no one came to stop them. After 15 minutes, they switched their lights to rainbow colors. Again, no one came to shut them down.
But soon after, Charalece looked up and saw a lone BYU policeman making his way up to the top of the Y and talking to each of the light holders in a non-threatening way. She overheard he offered some water. Still, her anxiety returned as she waited for him to descend down the Y, where she held her blue light. As he neared, she realized she recognized the man. He was a family friend. They softened as they faced each other. She asked, “What’s going on? Why the fences this year?” He replied, “I just think they’re trying to keep this a neutral place so people don’t get too carried away.” He continued, “I don’t want all this to happen. You guys are doing a good thing and what BYU is doing isn’t helping. I’m sorry this is happening. I wish it wouldn’t. I just have to do my job and remind you you’re on private property and ask you to leave.” Charalece replied, “I respect that this is your job and that you’re treating us so respectfully. I’m a mom of a gay son and I’m just doing my job.” As she said this, she noticed her friend tear up, in a moment of shared understanding. This is how Charalece believes real change will come – one heart, one connection at a time.
Charalece and Brad were the last to leave the mountain, making sure nothing was left behind. On their descent, Brad told his mom if their group was arrested at the bottom, he wanted to take full responsibility so none of the parents would end up in jail. She responded, “Brad, you do not need to take this all on your own. Give it to me.” Saying this brought to light so much she had felt over the years as Brad’s mom. “What parent doesn’t want to take away their child’s pain? Their heartache and sadness? Every parent would in a heartbeat. But we realize our kids have to go through what they do to grow, to turn to Christ.” Charalece recalled that shortly after Brad told her he was gay, she too offered a desperate prayer in which she told the Lord she couldn’t do this anymore. She said, “This is too hard for me, so I know it will be too hard for him. I’m giving it to you. I need you to do this.” And she felt the Lord take away the burden of worry to lighten her load.
When Charalece and Brad finally hit the bottom of the trail, they were shocked to see there was no one lying in wait to arrest them. In fact, the police cars were gone. Later, they were told that the police had not come that night to stop them but to protect them from any potential harm.
“That’s when I realized the Lord was right – I was going to be okay; I was doing just what I needed to be. Sometimes our rules are not His. He is in the details,” says Charalece. “I want to be brave, because I need these kids to know I’m willing to do something out of my comfort zone to show them love. They live in fear daily. I want them to not be afraid. I’m just trying to be the best I can, and if I have to go to jail to show people I love them, I can’t think of a better reason to go to jail then for shining a light that tells people ‘I love you’.”
