In anti-DEI Utah, this college president is gay, LDS and a first-generation student, and he’s not shy about it

When Greg Peterson bumps into a student on the way to his office at Salt Lake Community College, wearing his signature bright blue Converse sneakers, he doesn’t tell them he’s the president.

If they ask what he does, he’ll usually say something vague, like “administration.” If they push further? “Oh, I just do a little bit here and there.”

It’s not meant to hide who he is, Peterson says. He just wants to be able to get to know students before they feel too intimidated to chat.

He shares first. He talks about being a first-generation college student from Oregon. He explains how he came to own four dogs — “Yes, it’s too many,” he laughs. He mentions his boyfriend, “who drives me crazy sometimes.” And he also talks about his Latter-day Saint faith.

It’s that last part, being both gay and a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, that often prompts students to open up about their own experiences. And to Peterson, that’s the point.

“I think sharing from my life gives space for students to talk about their life,” he told The Salt Lake Tribune in a wide-ranging interview last month.

By the time they learn he’s president, Peterson hopes they realize they’re more alike than they may think — capable of reaching whatever rank they want, too, not in spite of their identities, but because of them.

“To have queer students or students of all identities feel seen by someone who has my title is really, really cool. That’s what I try to do,” he said. “I’m trying to find ways to help them see that we have similarities.”

Peterson is in good company as a Latter-day Saint; all the leaders of Utah’s seven other public colleges and universities are members of the state’s predominant faith, too.

But it’s believed that Peterson is the first out gay president. He’s not averse to being in a historic position; he says, “I want to normalize the experience.”

Figuring out his identity

Many see the two identities in conflict, and for a long time, so did Peterson. He viewed being both as a weakness.

But he was able to shift his perspective and ultimately “come to peace,” he shared during a late August event with Encircle in Provo. That organization supports those who are LGBTQ+ and often, like Peterson, also Latter-day Saints. Attendees that night included students from nearby church-owned Brigham Young University.

Peterson has spoken to bigger audiences before, but this felt more personal. At the front of the small room, wearing a paisley tie and thin glasses, he was pacing.

He was also once a student at BYU, where he graduated in 2001, and he struggled. The faith doesn’t exclude members who are LGBTQ; but it does require that they remain chaste to be in good standing. Students at BYU also face expulsion for being in same-sex relationships.

Peterson told the audience to imagine their two favorite characteristics about themselves, then being told they are incompatible. You can’t be funny and smart; creative and kind. You can only be one.

“That’s the experience of the LGBTQ community with the church,” he said. “We’re often told we can’t be both.”

With a laugh, he said it’s still “not a combination I’d recommend.” Several nodded in agreement.

When he was younger, he watched some of his gay friends leave the church and lose their purpose. And he struggled with the tension for years. As such, he said, he didn’t come out to his family and friends until he was 38; he turns 50 this month.

“When I came out,” he told the audience, “I was a wreck.”

He said he continued to struggle, including questioning at times if he should be alive. “I got into a space where I believed that nothing would get better,” he said.

But as Peterson started sharing with more people — his boss at the California school where he worked, his exercise trainer — he got to a better place, he told the audience, and he focused on accepting himself. Now, his faith and sexuality coexist.

“If I waited for the church to figure out where I belong, it would never happen. I would always be separate,” he said. “I decided religious identity was not sexual identity, so they didn’t have to compete.”

Religion helps him understand his purpose. His sexuality, among his other identities, are ways he experiences the world.

It’s an approach he’s shared with Lift+Love, a support group for gay Latter-day Saints, and on the “Guiding Growth” podcast. Peterson acknowledges that the faith’s views haven’t changed, and sometimes it’s difficult to sit in a pew on Sunday.

“Coming through that, though, I think gave me greater grace and love for others,” he said. “I’m so grateful for that path. … It allowed me to experience being different and not fitting the mold. … And the pain of that opened my eyes to the pain of others.”

As the students that night slowly left, one lingered by the door. “I wish I’d seen someone like him in a position like that so much sooner,” she said.

‘It didn’t change our mission’

Peterson started as president of SLCC in July 2024. At the same time, Utah’s ban on diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) efforts took effect.

Under the law, public schools cannot provide any services that cater to a specific identity group, such as having a center only for Black students or a scholarship for women. Instead, resources must be open to all students.

Public universities and colleges also can’t host offices or positions with the words “diversity, equity and inclusion” in their name.

Under Peterson, SLCC had tried to keep open its Gender and Sexuality Student Resource Center. But the Utah System of Higher Education in a recent audit found it wasn’t compliant, and the school shut it down in December.

Peterson said that was hard to see, and even harder for the students who thought it was it a safe space.

“Definitely HB261 required us to rethink how we do our work,” he said. “It didn’t change our mission. So we still have to figure out how to meet the needs of our students wherever they’re coming from. They’re coming from so many different places.”

SLCC is the most diverse public college or university in the state, with more people of color, more veterans, and more older, nontraditional students enrolled than anywhere else.

So much of how a community college functions is focused on supporting those who are different or underserved, the president said. That includes students who are place-bound, students with autism, students who are parents. It also includes those who are economically disadvantaged, like Peterson was when he was a student.

He grew up in a family without a lot of money and didn’t know school was an option for him, he said. His first step into higher education was attending a community college near his home, working part-time jobs and studying on the bus to complete his associate degree.

It gave him a chance at a different trajectory, he said. It’s why he believes in the transformative power of education. At SLCC, he said, his goal is to always “keep our students at the core of what we do.” Where they are now, he said, isn’t where they could be in the future.

And so he’ll continue talking to them about his own vulnerabilities in the hope they’ll talk to him about theirs, so they can continue connecting on what’s possible.

For Peterson, there’s nothing better, even if starts with a compliment on his Converse or a comment about his boyfriend. It’s just another way to spark conversation.

“More important is to have someone like me listen,” he said. “That’s where the real power comes in.”

Note to readers • This story is available to Salt Lake Tribune subscribers only. Thank you for supporting local journalism.