Mormon neighbors
I have Mormon neighbors. Lots of them. Somehow (actually, I know how: Mormon nepotism on the housing board) our neighborhood is known as the place to be among Mormons who move here. Actually, it influenced us to move here, back when we were church-goers. Now, though, it bugs the hell out of me is uncomfortable. There are people we used to attend church with. There are people who moved in after we stopped attending. And you better believe the ones who moved in later know exactly who we are. But they won't say anything, no, no, they won't say anything.
The other day we had a neighborhood barbecue, so we went. People trickled in, and I made the rounds of chatting. Then I realized that the crowd had swelled, and was probably half Mormon. Now, we don't live in Salt Lake City, so the crowd should not be half Mormon.
I started to get uncomfortable. And I hated that I was uncomfortable. I looked around and realized my husband had already headed home; his Mo-dar is more sensitive than mine, I suppose. I stayed for a few more minutes, then slipped home myself, checking first to make sure the kids, oblivious to our social politics, were safely playing under the watch of neighbors.
I thought about the stereotype of ex-Mormons as anti-social. I've hated that stereotype. But I've pretty much lived up to it. I stopped going to ward functions, stopped being invited to extra-ward family activities, stopped seeing everyone at church every week, stopped asking for babysitters among the relief society women. Is that actually anti-social? No, but to the ward members, for whom that is pretty much their entire social life, yes. Sometimes I tell myself to prove the stereotype wrong, to put on a big smile and show 'em! But that in itself seems so very like the Mormon hide-your-true-emotions facade I was raised with and I am trying to overcome.
After coming in, I sat in the living room and picked up a book. The day outside was perfect for a barbecue, the neighbors continued to stay and chat for a couple hours after I left. But here I was, inside, with a book, feeling...what? What was I feeling? Sad? Angry at myself? Angry at my own heritage? Why? Why couldn't I just talk to the other people in the neighborhood, many of whom I like? Why couldn't I just talk to the Mormons, pretending, like they do, that everything is perfectly normal? I've done it before. Other times I've laughed inside while doing just that. Why not this time? (Don't say it was because those other times I had a shot of tequila in me. Just don't.)
Maybe it was because I was just recently starting to feel reconciled to the idea that I am, by heritage, by ethnicity even, Mormon. And then I felt so poignantly not Mormon. I am not one of them, nor do I want to be. And yet we have so much in common. But the things we have in common are things I've spent the past few years tearing out of my self, bits of shrapnel I dig, painfully, from my wounded body.
Yeah, yeah, a bit melodramatic, I know. But that's what it felt like.
4 comments:
All right, no real sense in using the anonymous thing on here. I never really meant to be "anonymous" but did it by accident the first time and just stayed that way. Anyway, I just thought I'd throw my two cents in there again.
When I left the Methodist Church, I tried to remain social with a lot of the friends I had there. I felt we still had a lot in common - in fact we had more in common because I was married after I left but I was single when I was a Methodist. It just became increasingly strained to try to remain a part of those friends lives when they noticed your obvious absence from the place where you all met, church. I even went to a few activities for a while, but once I wore a shirt without thinking. It was laundry day, so I had on an LDS Emergency Services shirt I'd gotten from hurricane relief. I didn't consider it bad since they'd stoood me up for an ovation the week after I returned from that effort. Even so, I wore that shirt, and none of my "friends" would sit with me. Some specifically moved their things away from the table we were all sitting at just to avoid me. I looked down and noticed the shirt and realized I had really made a mistake. We never went back to their suppers after that, and some of the wives of that group were very rude to my wife in social settings around town. I was pretty peeved.
I guess my point is that it's not just a Mormon thing that people noticed you're different. Anytime you leave a church, people tend to notice if you see them elsewhere. It may be more noticeable as a former Mormon living in a mostly Mormon neighborhood, but that's a lot like being a Methodist in a small town or having ties to it a long time and then suddenly changing one day. If the members there are being rude to you or openly treating you as an outcast, then my heart goes out to you and I think they are quite wrong to do that. If they are not, but are continuing to include you in non-church social activities, then why not remain friends? If it's too strained, though, I can understand. Sometimes things just get weird when there's the pink elephant in the room no one wants to discuss but everyone wants to hear discussed. Best of luck to you. Not to suggest you should have to move, but has the idea of moving crossed your mind? I stayed here mostly because of work, but if I lived in a large city it would be easy to move across town and find a whole new area to live in. Just a thought, if you feel out of place now. If you love where you live, though, by all means you should stay.
Thanks for you thoughts, Robert-anon. It's sounds like you are familiar with many of the same issues as me. That's sad that your friends shunned you just for a Mormon shirt! People tend to get a strange look on their faces when they find out I'm from Utah or went to BYU, though I don't think I've been actively shunned as a Mormon.
As for moving, it's really not a big deal. It just hit me hard that day. And I am moving soon--leaving, anyway, on a sort of extended business trip. I'll move back to the same city, but I expect there won't be so many Mormons then.
fta,
The process of being pushed away may have already started. One of my "friends" was raised Baptist and therefore taught all through her formative years that Mormons are a cult (it's printed in their Sunday School books). She was already staying away from me and my wife, but the shirt seemed to make the rest think "Well, she had the right idea about him. Better not hang out with him anymore."
I still consider a couple of those people friends and I speak to them whenever we run into each other. I've just never been invited to their house since becoming a Mormon, and I was invited several times when I was a member of their church. It doesn't help that I'm not from here, so it made it especially hard on my wife who is completely new to this place. Life goes on, though. We're even considering sending our daughter to their church's preschool next year. I think any big change comes with a period of adjustment. I had the fortune of being off at grad school when I converted, so I was in an environment where few people knew me extremely well and even those were not the sort to worry about church much (except three or four people who knew where I attended before I changed and a couple I got to know better once becoming a member).
Personally, it sounds like you're handling your separation from your former church in a fairly healthy manner. That's the best way to find long-term happiness, I expect.
fta,
One othe reason I might have an appreciation for having neighbors I might not be comfortable around: I helped defeat my next door neighbor in an election the year I moved here. He has never even come over to say hello, even before that election. The neighbor across the street was one of his supporters, and he has likewise never come to welcome me to the neighborhood. I know all about having people right next door who do not seem to want you there.
Post a Comment