In St. George, UT, there are places where the LGBTQ community can feel extremely comfortable—places like Dutchman’s Market where you can pick up a tank of gas, a delectable cookie, and a bevy of rainbow-themed jewelry, cards, and home décor. Places like Encircle, where each Tuesday, parents and other allies can join a lunch group and share their stories and support. And there is the Frei family’s living room and backyard--where throughout the year, a variety of speakers and guests including Dr. Gregory Prince and Pastor Stan Mitchell cycle through for ally nights. While she is often joined with her fellow army of angels, all of these spaces have one thing in common—the open heart of Liisa Frei.
When her son Jordan came out as gay in 2012, Liisa wasn’t entirely surprised, but she was transformed. The fourth of her six children, Jordan was 23, and a college student who had just come back home to run the St George Marathon. The day after the race, he knocked on his mom’s bedroom door and sat down on her bed with something important to say. But this wasn’t the first time she’d heard it. Back when Jordan was four, Liisa was outside playing with him when she heard a voice distinctly say, “Jordan is gay.” It was so loud and clear that she actually turned to see its source and said out loud, “No, he’s not – and where did that come from?”
Back then, while it wasn’t the idea that Jordan might be gay that bothered her, Liisa admits what she couldn’t imagine was trying to raise a gay son in the LDS community in which she lived. As a convert herself, she was still adjusting to the new culture, and the thought terrified her. She kept the revelation of that afternoon quiet–even from her husband, and tried for years to convince herself it was just an interior thought. She watched Jordan grow but never really had a clear indication if was gay or not, but she did take it upon herself to study everything she could get her hands on from various sources—just in case.
Liisa was an avid runner. She’s completed 20 St. George marathons with her running partner, Lisa Mitchell. They have logged thousands of miles over the years. Lisa Mitchell happens to have worked in endocrinology for 41 years, and she spent many morning runs teaching Liisa about the complexity of the human body. In those early days, Liisa’s friend taught her about the wide spectrum of variations from a clear division between male and female. Liisa says, “This made me think that if all human bodies did not develop exactly the same way physically, then there were probably things happening in the development of brains that were not as easy to see. I learned that fitting in the category of either male or female simply isn’t the reality for many people… I also became aware there were many people in my own faith who did not fit the typical view of sexuality—and that far too often these people did not feel welcome and loved within our community.” Over time, Liisa came to the critical realization that she had no doubt that being LGBTQ was not a choice. She watched as her son Jordan grew up playing sports and dating girls and serving an honorable mission in California—things his two older brothers had done; and even though she did not know if Jordan was gay or not, someone’s child was and it was important for her to learn how to support them.
When Jordan came into his mom’s room that day, he asked her to keep his news quiet. Always the selfless and considerate one, he felt he didn’t want to burden anyone with additional stress. His father Nick had been battling colon cancer, and a few weeks earlier their family business was destroyed as a result of a dam break that flooded Dutchman’s Market. Under tremendous financial strain with medical bills and loss of income, Nick was working day and night to get the store reopened, so Liisa agreed to keep the information to herself.
Five months later, Liisa was visiting her daughter, Cassidee, in Texas, who had been struggling to make peace with the church’s stance on LGBTQ issues, but had been encouraged by her bishop to stay in and ally from within. Cassidee point blank asked Liisa if Jordan was gay; Liisa caved and said yes. She asked Cassidee to call Jordan and say she knew, and luckily, this acknowledgement buoyed Jordan and encouraged him to come out to the rest of his family via an email that night. The next day, Jordan allowed his family to share the email with other family and friends—all concurring his coming out should be in his own words.
Jordan’s letter is poignant, humble, and yet laced with a heart-warming confidence that reveals he knew his family would love him just as much if not more so. (It’s available in a 01/04/15 post along with his family’s responses and Liisa’s thoughts on nomorestrangers.org). In it, Jordan admits he’d suspected he was gay for a long time but in high school managed to convince himself otherwise. On his mission, he was able to shelve those thoughts and assumed he’d come home and try to marry a girl. But upon his arrival back, he quickly realized that wasn’t going to work out. On the night of his brother Tanner’s wedding to his wife, Jordan says he remembers looking at the way they looked at each other and how perfect they were for each other, and he just knew he would never find that with a girl. At that moment, Jordan says, “The battle that I had been fighting in my mind was finally over, and even if it didn’t turn out the way that I wanted, at least there was peace.”
In those early days, Jordan bore an added concern, worrying that his coming out might have some sort of negative effect on the family he loved. He ended his letter with the heart-breaking admission: “I worry that for the rest of forever, this is what I will be remembered for when people bring up my name, not all of the other things I have worked so hard to accomplish. Some of these things worry me a lot, some of these things worry me a little, but they all worry me.”
It turns out Jordan had nothing to worry about. A couple days later, he compiled and shared the responses he received—pages and pages of effusive love and support that drew the close family even closer. The first reply he had received was from his sister-in-law Brynne, who was the daughter of the general RS President of the Church at the time. Brynne responded immediately after receiving the email because she couldn't imagine letting Jordan wonder for one minute longer how his family would accept this news. Even though she didn’t have all of the answers, she led with love.
Jordan threw himself into getting into medical school, saying “because it [was] something that I [didn’t] have to give up.” As he immersed himself in his studies, he was able to distract himself from his reality and conversations about his reality, but slowly began talking to and then dating guys. His brother Berk would tease he was living life as either a “superhero or secret vigilante,” which Jordan would laugh off. When Jordan first came out, he explained the inevitability that despite his strong faith in God and appreciation for the gospel in which he’d been raised, he couldn’t predict what his future might look like, (and now he has stepped away from the church). After graduating from the U of U in biology, Jordan moved to San Antonio to attend medical school and later did his residency in Portland, Oregon.
Jordan came out ten years ago, at age 23, and now at age 33, he is working as a pediatrician, living in Draper, UT with his boyfriend, Michael. When one of his siblings’ kids gets sick, he is their first call. And there are a lot of them. The Frei family includes parents Nick and Liisa, Cassidee and Tyler Torres--both 40, their kids Max--17, Tessa--14, Ella—12; Berkley--38 and Chandra--33 Frei and their kids, Willow-3 and Ever—1; Tanner and Brynne--both 35—Frei and their kids, Morris--9, Ett--6, Leo--4, and Penelope-1; Jordan Frei & Michael Knudson--both 33; Maddison—30, and Tyler--29, Dickerson and their kids, Alta—2 and Gwen--11 months, and Lincoln Frei--27. Liisa feels lucky that all her kids live “within a tank of gas,” and maintain a special closeness.
Reflecting on her own journey, she says, “I look at what’s transpired over the past 10 years–how grateful I am for so many things. The difference between the young mom who heard that voice saying Jordan’s gay and being so worried how the community would accept him and how his life would be if it turned out to be true. And now I think I’m so fortunate to have a gay child–and all the beautiful people who’ve come into our lives from this. I am so grateful for the parents who’ve walked this road so much longer than I have, when there was so little understanding and so few resources. They have taught me what it looks like to show up and do the work.”
Liisa counts her fellow rainbow moms as some of her best friends. She’s also witnessed parents who've kicked their kids out of their homes, telling them to never return. She says her original post opened the floodgates and people reached out from all over, both in their community and across the country. She had no idea how many people were living in fear. Liisa says even now, often at Dutchman’s, she’ll be approached my someone with tears in their eyes, saying, “We need to talk,” and she knows why they’re there. Liisa’s grateful there are now so many more public resources than there were ten years ago.
Liisa’s also immensely grateful for the diverse circle she leads each week with Sherine Smith at “Lunch with Liisa” at Encircle. She says, “Without the politics of it all, we celebrate the struggles and triumphs–it’s just a small example of what things could be.” She wishes all church and community leaders would take the opportunity to listen to others’ stories, as that is where we best learn. After recent troubles in the St. George city council stemming from homophobic reactions to a drag show, Liisa is grateful for those leaders who are willing to lean in and listen to the lived experiences of the LGBTQ community. Her Encircle community of friends is vast and includes people of all ages--parents, grandparents, LGBTQ individuals and allies. Some of her favorite days are when someone steps through the doors just because they felt it was time for them to learn more about the LGBTQ community. She’s grateful these people have taken a step towards learning how they can make our community a safe and welcoming place for all people to thrive.
Recently, Liisa’s heart has been especially broken open to the transgender community, as she’s become more aware of parents doing everything they can to convince their child they’re worthy to live. She says, “People who think that posting demeaning jokes and memes is a funny thing to do, need to understand the power these words have to do real harm to someone’s child. The old saying, ‘Sticks and stones can break your bones’ is only partially true because words really do hurt—sadly, these words can be soul-crushing. If those same people understood how harmful their statements can be, to a child trying to find a reason to stay on this earth, they’d never say those things. I believe that if they took the time to really get to know our transgender brothers and sisters they would do what they could to offer love and support, instead of pain and ridicule. There are now so many opportunities with the multiple podcasts and books available, to hear their stories– you just have to be willing to look and do a little work.”
After the flood that wiped out Dutchman’s, the Frei family was deeply touched by the flood of community members who came out to help them rebuild. “It didn’t matter what religion, background, or orientation they were. We were overwhelmed with support. Our store is a place for everybody, and it became a store full of love again.” This kind of unity and love is what Liisa feels blessed to feel every day at home, at work, and at Encircle. Her greatest desire is that it can one day be something that is felt everywhere.
