Republican Legislators Have Soul: Hear Me Out on This One
Republican Senator Lyle Hillyard has served in the Utah Legislature longer than anyone up there. Far longer. Like my sophomore year of high school, 1981 long. His perspective and institutional knowledge on many issues are invaluable. However, on LGBTQ issues, it looks like the people of Utah have passed him by. I consider Senator Hillyard to be a friend, mentor, and legendary lawmaker. Rather than criticize him, I write to describe how the human soul changes societal attitudes and determines political outcomes.
In 2005, Hillyard passed a bill that allowed for surrogacy. Then, the damn gays and the Supreme Court came along to spoil the party. Now, because it would be impossible to constitutionally craft a law that only allows surrogacy for straight couples, Hillyard is running a bill to do away with surrogacy entirely. That position represents Old Utah.
The bill was stalled with the help of Abby Cox, wife of Lieutenant Governor Spencer Cox, who testified about carrying a baby for her sister-in-law. For the all-in spouse of a politically ambitious Republican Lieutenant Governor to testify on a controversial (and LGBTQ-charged) issue, you know there was passion behind this one.
Later that night, the bill was apparently crushed when committee chair Republican Lincoln Fillmore drove into his driveway after the hearing—while talking with a constituent about surrogacy—to find his son excitedly waiting for him. He realized that he would not deny such an experience to anyone.
Abby Cox and Lincoln Fillmore did not reason through facts (pro and con) or do polling on the issue. Their souls had been touched, and that is why they acted. That is New Utah.
People always ask if I regret any votes I took during my 16 years in the Utah Legislature. Most of the time I was serving, my answer was “no.” I weighed facts (pro and con), polled my constituents, talked with them, held town meetings, and did my best to figure out where I should be. And I voted accordingly. I gave it my best.
But, then, my heart and soul were touched. I now look back on my legislative service and regret lots of votes and lots of statements and lots of acts and lots of times I was hurtful, callous, and heartless. I held a position of trust and some importance, and on LGBTQ issues, I really screwed up for 13 years.
What changed? My heart. Through conversations and life experiences, I realized how wrong I had been on legal issues that affect my LGBT brothers and sisters. So that others might find the path, I bluntly confess my wrong: I did not appreciate the full humanity of lots of people. Instead, I first saw them in terms of their sexual orientation and gender identity. That is horrible. Let's call it what it is. It is bigotry. I committed wrongs I need to try to make right. So, now I evangelize the gay gospel of politics. And here is the theme of today’s sermon: to change, people need love and space.
No one likes to be wrong. When challenged, we tend to dig in. Magnify that tendency several times for politicians. The key to moving a politician is to (a) educate and correct the error and (b) provide love and space for the politician to move.
Equality Utah and Utah’s magnificent LGBT community helped educate me. Thank you! Maybe the more meaningful thing, though, is that they loved me (in a soulful way that rarely happens in politics) and gave me space to move. The conversations often were, “Steve, we think you are a good person. We believe you can understand this better and find a better place. Will you please continue to talk with us?” It was a milk and cookies approach, rather than a pitchfork and torches approach. And, as I would take awkward steps their way, my new friends would generously smile and suggest “possibly a different way to phrase that.”
As an early Republican champion for LGBT rights (2013. I know, it’s a pretty low bar), I was often asked to speak on how Republicans should be approached. (Slowly, avoiding eye contact.). At a national convention, someone (who knows his stuff and backs it with data) said, “We reach Republicans with economic data, like an improved business climate that accompanies LGBT-friendly laws.” Okay. I get that. I was interested in such data—before I moved a single step.
I tossed my prepared notes and tried to teach my teachers what they had taught me about humanity. I said, “Believe it or not, Republicans are humans, too. We love. We laugh. We feel. I am not here because of economic data. I am here because high school students in St. George, Utah, touched my heart. They changed me, when they opened my eyes and heart, so that I saw their humanity, instead of their orientation. Just this week, I received a text from a very powerful, serious, and conservative lawmaker in Utah, saying that he wants to talk with me about LGBT issues. Why? Because his young niece asked him to listen to Macklemore’s Same Love. The most powerful motivator for Republicans is the same motivator for all humans. It is the heart. It is the soul. To move forward, that has to be our true target.”
Give Republicans some space and encouragement. (And, yes, a strong poke here and there. I believe the arrest of the Cap 13 in 2014 did as much as anything to push passage of the non-discrimination law in 2015). Utah has changed. It is moving in the right direction. I hold no illusions that 90% of the Democrats in Utah would ever vote for me for dogcatcher. I would never expect them to, because we have fundamental disagreements on many things. But, on LGBT issues, I also felt their warm embrace. Before we publicly brawl on policy issues, I beam with pride when Senator Dabakis tells crowds, “Steve is wrong about everything, except one issue.”
Let’s continue to duke it out in the political arena. But, remember, we are one people. We are one Utah. Let’s give each other love and space to move.