pre-exit 2: a happy, mormon childhood

A great part of the answer to the question “Why did I believe?” can be found in my upbringing.

I wasn’t born in Utah, but I was raised there. We moved there when I was little, my parents sure that the promised land was a better place to raise their several children. I can’t blame them for that. The high-concentration Mormon community certainly provides comfort for people who want to be surrounded by people like them, with their same “standards,” their same worldview and paradigm.

Who doesn’t, really? Even people who seek diversity in their communities still find some commonalities on which to base their imagined community—liberalism, cosmopolitanism, love for diversity itself, a desire for debate and multiple viewpoints. And even within diversity, we still seek sameness, do we not? Aren’t a good number of my friends still white, educated, and liberal? Do I not seek out fellow ex-Mormons as people who understand not only my background, but my changed worldview, and the often painful journey that inevitably accompanies such a change?

Back to childhood in Utah. My family was and is TBM—true, believing Mormon. They are serious believers. While I find that labels and checklists are inadequate to truly describe anyone’s spirituality, using them are quick ways to get us all on the same page about what my childhood was like.

-I was BIC (born in the covenant), as were my parents. Meaning conception occurred after the parents were MIT (married in the temple, the only “true” place for Mormons to marry).

-I was baptized at eight by my father, the “appropriate” age for fathers to baptize.

-My father was an RM (returned missionary), and was the sole income earner for the large family of 8 children.

-My mother was a stay-at-home mom, pretty much since the day she got married and dropped out of college.

-We had family prayer twice a day, and scripture study once a day.

-We had Family Home Evening every week. Prayers, songs, lesson, activity (if we were lucky), and treat (if we were lucky). And until I was a teenager and had other things I wanted to do instead, I really liked it, simply for the family time. I really like my family, and spending that time and family prayer time with them is still a precious and fond memory. If only we’d done it for the sake of spending time together, instead of the reasons we did it: because the Brethren told us to, and we’d probably go to hell if we didn’t.

-We went to church every week, all three hours, even Stake Conference, even on vacation. And we watched all four sessions of General Conference. Luckily, we didn’t have to go to the meeting house to watch, and we didn’t have to dress up. (Only my father and brothers were privileged enough to be born with penises, though, so they went to the priesthood sessions too.)

-We said prayers before every meal.

-We never watched rated-R movies, drank caffeinated sodas, dated before age 16, wore sleeveless shirts, did recreational activities on Sunday, or shopped on Sunday. We did watch TV and listen to music, though we tried to keep it non-violent and classical or churchy.

-Coffee, tea, alcohol, and tobacco were almost as bad as beating up 3-year-olds.

-I kept a journal, because young women leaders taught that I was supposed to keep a family history. For the first several years of journal-keeping, I only wrote about churchy-stuff.

-I read the Book of Mormon daily. Daily. From the time I was still in primary.

-I only hung out with Mormons. Not that I knew any non-Mormons.

-People who didn’t believe in the church or didn’t outwardly practice (they didn’t attend church, they drank or smoked) were apostates and should be avoided at all costs. Unless they were extended family, then we just “loved them anyway,” prayed that they’d see the light, and never, ever talked with them about why they left.

Etc, etc. I could go on, but the picture is outlined. I myself was believing and faithful, and found fulfillment and guidance in the church. I prayed, I read, I held youth callings, I gave talks that inspired and impressed the congregation. I was that ideal Molly Mormon that mothers wanted their sons to marry.

And I was happy with that, and with the church.

Except for a few quirks. A few, very large quirks.