Book Title: SAINT UNSHAMED: A Gay Mormon’s Life
Healing from the Shame of Religion, Rape, Conversion Therapy & Cancer
Author: Kerry Ashton
Publisher: Lynn Wolf Enterprises
Cover Artist: Kerry Ashton
Release Date: April 17, 2019
Genres: A Gay Memoir featuring M/M Romance & some hard core sex
Tropes: Forbidden love, Rape, Mormon Religion
Themes: Coming out, Forgiveness, Overcoming Religion, Rape, Police Surveillance & Arrest, Conversion Therapy including Electric Shock Treatments, and a 16-year battle with rare cancer
Heat Rating: 5 flames
There are many erotic passages—most are hardcore, erotic and explicit passages, all M/M. Many deal with scenes of sexual humiliation, degradation, group scenes, S&M and/or the gay male leather scene.
Length: 120 000 words /348 pages incl. 14 pages of B&W photos from author’s private collection.
“A TRIUMPHANT MEMOIR!” Clarion Books
Blurb
The first paragraph of Kerry Ashton’s new memoir explains a lot: “I told this story once as fiction in the 1980s, but this time I tell the truth. I even tell the truth, in #MeToo fashion, about being violently raped by another man when I was 18, with a knife held to my throat—a secret I kept from everyone, including myself, for over 40 years. The rape, like other experiences I endured while a student at Brigham Young University, where I came out in the early 1970s, had a profound impact on my later life. But this story is not so much about my rape or my coming of age at BYU, as it is about the lifelong effects of shame itself, not only about how I internalized and inherited a wounding shame from my Mormon upbringing, but also how I eventually unshamed myself. It is about the journey of a lifetime, finding spiritual growth, self-discovery and healing along the way, while encountering many miraculous events that pushed me forward through darkness toward the light.”
Telling about his experiences during his four years at BYU—the rape, falling in love for the first time, police surveillance, harassment and arrest, while enduring three years of conversion therapy and electric shock treatments—provide the structure of Kerry’s memoir. But intermittently, the author shares memories from his childhood, growing up Mormon in Pocatello, Idaho, and later from his adulthood, as well as from his professional career as an actor and writer, both in L.A. and NYC, describing encounters with Barbra Streisand, Elizabeth Taylor, Bette Davis and Julie Harris, while detailing his experiences with Tennessee Williams and his brief affair with Stephen Sondheim. Lastly, he talks about the 12 years he spent in therapy, about his 16-year battle with cancer, how he eventually rid himself of the shame internalized from his Mormon youth, sharing glimpses into his sexual journey from his innocent youth through S&M and the gay leather scene in mid-life to the loving monogamous relationship he now enjoys.
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WHAT I OWE TO THE #METOO MOVEMENT
A GUEST POSTING BY KERRY ASHTON
My fingers are shaking as I type this, as I am nervous about coming forward, out of the shadows and out of my comfort zone, to publicly acknowledge for the first time that I was raped by another man when I was 18.
I can only imagine what shame women feel over being raped or sexually assaulted. In my case, being a tall and well-built gay man, the shame that I held inside for so much of my life—that I couldn’t stop my rape by another man—has been unbearable.
It was nearly 48 years ago when, as an 18-year-old Mormon freshman attending BYU, and still coming to terms with my gay identity, I met my assailant in a downtown Salt Lake City adult theater. Being young and healthy, standing 6’3” and weighing 185 pounds, I thought I could take care of myself in any situation. Having been raised as an innocent LDS boy, I was exceedingly naïve at the time, unsure and unaccepting of my gay identity, with little sexual experience, so when this handsome and charming man invited me back to his hotel room around the corner, I went with him. Once we were inside his hotel room and he locked the door behind him, he turned on me. At 6’8”, 250 pounds of muscle, he was far taller and stronger than I, and he immediately overpowered me, pulling out a switchblade knife and held it to my throat throughout the ordeal.
I need to thank all of the courageous women and men of the #MeToo movement for telling the truth of what happened to them. Whether the sexual assault they experienced happened last week or like me, happened to them decades ago, the courage they showed in coming forward helped me find the courage to finally tell the full truth about my own rape. Without their courage and example, I could not and would not have included the details of my rape in my recently published memoir, SAINT UNSHAMED: A GAY MORMON’S LIFE—Healing From the Shame of Religion, Rape, Conversion Therapy & Cancer.
In writing my memoir, I had doubts about whether I could or even should include the details of my rape. For one thing, I wasn’t sure that anyone would believe me, since I had managed to repress any conscious memory of my rape for decades.
It was not until the spring of 2012, at the age of 58, a full 40 years after my rape, that the memories of that violent, brutal experience finally emerged from my subconscious mind. The memories came back in tiny pieces, first as a trickle, then as a stream, and finally as a torrential flood. One by one, I fit each piece of memory into a larger picture, like retrieving pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, until I could finally see and remember the whole ordeal of my rape as it had actually happened. Only then could I look back on the journey I had taken throughout my life, particularly my sexual journey, and see that much if not most of it was driven subconsciously by the brutal rape I had survived as a young man.
In writing one’s memoir, and choosing to go public with the most sexually intimate details of one’s life—as I do in my book—it’s scary. It’s like opening up one’s private diary to everyone on the planet. Was I absolutely certain that I wanted to share my most hidden and well-kept secrets with the world? How would my Mormon family react once my book was published? Would they shun me once they read the vile and violent details of my rape? Like so many in the #MeToo movement who have had the courage to come forward—the most recent and powerful example being Dr. Christine Blasey Ford— would I even be believed?
Even during the final rewrite of my memoir, I still debated about whether or not to tell about my rape and how it affected my life. But then the Kavanaugh hearing happened. When I watched the courage and dignity that Dr. Christine Blasey Ford displayed in giving her testimony and how she was later publicly shamed by Republican Senators and by the president’s disgraceful behavior—who in the end only shamed themselves—I decided that I had a sacred obligation to tell the full truth. I owed it to all rape victims, especially the male victims of sexual assault, who might find healing from my true story of overcoming shame, such that it might help them heal their own shame. So when I made the decision to tell all, it was solemnly made. And I have the #MeToo movement to thank for it. __________
Kerry Ashton is a published author and playwright. For more information on his work, visit KerryAshton.com
© Kerry Ashton 2019
READ PART ONE HERE
The Holy War, as I have come to think of it, began on a hot day in early September 1971, the day I left Pocatello to drive four hours south to Provo, Utah, to attend Brigham Young University. As in all wars, whether holy or unholy, it would not be without its casualties.
I spent the morning packing things in my ‘56 Chevrolet, parked in the spot on the lawn where our driveway would have been had my parents ever had the money to pave it. A yellow-and-bronze, two- door coupe with cream interior, a huge cream steering wheel, and black dashboard, the car had class, which is why I named it Oscar— after the Academy Awards I hoped to win one day.
As I packed Oscar full of boxes, Dad worked under the hood of the car. Once Oscar was filled with boxes, I sank down on our front lawn. Knowing this would be my last day at home, I tried to capture everything I saw and felt around me: The red of Mom’s roses framing our side porch, the hazy blue of the late morning sky, the large pine tree at the front of our corner lot, and the blue-grey crag of Scout Mountain in the distance, where I had always imagined Santa’s sleigh flew over on Christmas Eve.
Hearing Mom humming in the kitchen as she prepared lunch, everything seemed right in my Latter-Day-Saint world.
Getting up from the grass, I walked over to where Dad was still working under Oscar’s hood. “Everything look okay, Dad?” I asked.
“Oh, sure,” Dad replied in his folksy way. “I just wanted to make sure everything’s good with your car. I don’t want you stranded on the highway.”
Though I had fulfilled every church obligation, I was not the mechanic that Dad had hoped each of his three sons would become. I left mechanical jobs to Dad or to my two older brothers, both married by then.
“I love you, Dad,” I said suddenly. He stopped tinkering with the spark plugs and looked up at me. “I love you, too, son,” he replied, embracing me with a greasy hug.
Mom came out on the side porch just then. Wiping her hands on her apron, she called out to us, “Okay, you two! Lunch is ready!”
I washed my hands at the kitchen sink and let Dad wash his hands in the bathroom. Then I joined Mom at the kitchen table while we waited for Dad.
“Kerry Lynn,” she whispered, stroking my dark brown hair as she often did, “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.”
Now a grown-up, or so I thought, I bristled at her calling me by both my given names as it sounded so girlish. But since it was my last day at home, I chose to ignore it.
“With all the kids married,” Mom continued, “and you going off to college, this house is going to feel awfully empty without you.”
“Maybe you and Dad will finally get some peace and quiet,” I kidded. “Maybe now you two can finally go on that second honeymoon you’ve talked about.”
“Maybe,” she said, laughing as she reached out to hold me. “I
love you, Kerry.” As she held me tight, I never wanted to let go. Once Dad joined us at the table, he said a blessing on the food, as we always did in our home.
After the blessing, we tore through the food. Mom had made some of my favorites: Her wonderful potato and egg salad, savory burgers with all the trimmings, and delicious corn-on-the-cob bought fresh from the farmer’s market.
After lunch, we went into the living room where Dad anointed my head with oil, laid his hands upon my head, and gave me a sacred Father’s Blessing—the blessing of a Melchizedek Priesthood Elder— warning me to be “mindful of the Adversary.”
Before I left that day, Dad took a photograph of me standing in front of Oscar. Barely 18 and dressed neatly, at 6’3” and 190 pounds, I was the very image of a conservative, clean-cut, LDS young man who loved his Mormon family, the LDS Church, and his Heavenly Father.
I arrived at Salt Lake City three hours later. From there, it took me another hour driving south on Interstate 15 before I arrived in the city of Provo.
Taking my first glimpse that day of Provo through Oscar’s wide windshield, I could see the white LDS Temple huddled against the Wasatch Mountains, its golden steeple gleaming in the late afternoon sun. Further north, Mount Timpanogos reached heavenward, while a sign at the main entrance to the BYU campus read: “The World Is Our Campus.” In reality, the campus became my world.
Driving north past the immense Cougar Stadium, and then into the foothills just beyond the BYU campus, then turning east and heading toward the mountains, I came to the huge Marriott Sports Arena under construction on my right, and stopped at the light. Once the light turned green, I made a left turn onto Sumac Avenue, climbing dramatically into the foothills, before pulling into the driveway in front of my new off-campus apartment.
Raised in Pocatello, Idaho as a Mormon in the heart of Mormon Zion, Kerry attended BYU in the early 70s, where some of the most dramatic events recounted in his memoir took place.
Always interested in pursuing a career as both an actor and writer, Kerry wrote his first play, BUFFALO HEAD NICKELS at the age of 17, and published it at 18. Since then, he has published several works, among them most prominently THE WILDE SPIRIT, a one-man play with music, in which Ashton starred as Oscar Wilde, and also wrote the play’s book, music and lyrics. The play won Kerry critical acclaim for both his writing and performance, and three 1977 L.A. Civic Star Awards for Best Actor, Play and Direction. The play ran for three consecutive seasons in Provincetown, MA from 1990-1992, and was produced Off-Broadway in 1996, winning Kerry a National Award of Merit from ASCAP. The author now makes his home with his partner Victor Ramirez in South Florida. For more info, visit www.KerryAshton.com.
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This book sounds very interesting. I have added it to my tbr.