tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73186069576456729992024-02-22T14:54:13.659-06:00A POST-MORMON LIFE
Life after leaving the Mormon Churchpostmormongirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455759739126093761noreply@blogger.comBlogger133125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7318606957645672999.post-4017914916458275432016-11-19T10:09:00.001-06:002016-11-19T10:09:13.441-06:00A Post-Mormon Life: The Trump-Era Edition<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;">I grew up Mormon. Growing up, I couldn’t fit myself into the narrow box expected of me. I wanted a life that was more about marriage and children. I wanted a life that was more about judging others for their beliefs or lack of beliefs. I wanted a life that was more about the petty, small things, such as judging others for drinking coffee or wearing sleeveless shirts or not attending church on Sundays. I wanted a life that was open-minded and warm-hearted and fair for everyone, regardless of ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation or religious beliefs. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So I left Mormonism. I entered the World, which I told myself was a better place. A more humane place. I was grateful for this choice. I am still grateful for this choice. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And yet. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And yet, during this past year, as Trump started on his ugly, hate-filled campaign, I’ve found myself losing faith in the goodness of the outside world. As Trump has spread his lies, stirring up hatred and mis-truths, attacking women, immigrants, Muslims and minorities, I’ve been veering ever closer to despair. I’ve watched him tell outright lies, only to refuse to take accountability for his actions. Now he is our President-elect, with the power to turn his words into action, and all indications are that he will. Between his appointment of known racists, such as Stephen Bannon and Jeff Sessions, as well as his appointments of lobbyists and insiders, it is becoming quite clear that Trump is committed to turning his ugly rhetoric into action. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">In this way, I am reminded of the LDS authorities. I am reminded of how they’ve been actively promoting rumors, falsehoods and untruths. I’m reminded of their truth-twisting about Mormon history, and their words about the moral character of people who leave. I’m reminded of the very real damage they have enacted on gays, both with their words, as well as their actions. I’m reminded of the racist rhetoric they promoted all the way up until the priesthood ban on blacks and I’m also reminded of their refusal to acknowledge their past words and actions. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The outside world has started to feel like an enlargement of the Mormon culture I have tried so hard to escape.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">As someone who grew up in this environment and left, this means that I've developed the tools for coping. I've developed the tools for seeing past the untruths, the half-truths, the fear-mongering, and the attempts to divide the world into us-vs-them. For many of us, this is how we escaped. Now, it turns out our escape needs to be on a bigger scope. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So I'm back, and ready to speak up. I hope you will all join me. </span></div>
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postmormongirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455759739126093761noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7318606957645672999.post-27622416257962829402015-07-23T07:19:00.000-06:002015-07-23T07:19:42.716-06:00Vice Article<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Last week, I attended the Hill Cumorah Pageant. Attending any Mormon event turned out to be, as many fellow Post-Mormons can attest, an odd experience. Between the strong nostalgia of remembering the past and the very awkward reality of being the apostate that most Mormons fear, these gatherings really highlight the weird limbo that we all exist in.<br />
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I then wrote about my experience for Vice. If you're curious, check it out!<br />
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<a href="http://www.vice.com/read/why-im-never-going-back-to-the-mormon-church-722">http://www.vice.com/read/why-im-never-going-back-to-the-mormon-church-722</a></div>
postmormongirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455759739126093761noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7318606957645672999.post-47955196901739414742014-10-16T19:32:00.002-06:002014-10-16T19:32:56.871-06:00Re-Learning Normal: Post-Mormon Edition<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;"> When I was twelve, my Sunday School teacher was a very sweet woman with short silky hair and a wry sense of humor. One day she mentioned how happy she was in her marriage. At the time, I doubted her words: after all, her husband wasn’t Mormon. How happy could she be, really?<br /> Now, I cringe when I think back to that moment, with its casual bias against non-Mormons. I had been raised in an environment that taught me to dismiss anyone who wasn’t Mormon as second-rate, even really nice husbands. But this was normal. This was the attitude I heard echoed around me every-day. The first Sunday of every month, members would stand up and talk about their belief in the church and then express how sorry they felt for the nonbelievers who hadn’t seen the truth of Mormonism. <br /> I’ve been invited to a wedding this weekend. Perhaps the strangest thing about this wedding – at least, to me – is the fact that I am allowed to attend. This is not a close friend, but rather my husband’s coworker. We don’t share a common religion. To be honest, the subject of religion has never come up. And yet, I am invited. I can go and see the wedding. It sounds like a small thing – and in the outside world, it is – but given my post-Mormon background, this is not something I can take for granted. <br /> When my siblings got married, my non-member status relegated me to sitting outside the temple while everyone else went inside for the wedding. This is what passes for normal in the Mormon world. Worthy Mormons are allowed to attend the weddings of their loved ones. </span><div>
<span style="font-size: large;"> The unworthy or the unbelieving ones? Not so much. We ask for time off work, pay our money for a plane ticket, buy our wedding gifts, and then sit outside, in a weird painful sort of heartbreak, as our loved ones exclude us from an event that is supposed to bring people together. Then, if our loved ones make note of the fact that we can’t come into the temple, we are usually told something along the lines of “But you could come inside if you wanted to!” (Translation: if we wanted to fake full membership in a church we don’t believe and sit through a probing interview about our worthiness, during which we would have to lie about our beliefs, we would be allowed to attend the wedding.) But most of the time, we don't say anything. This is a wedding and for the sake of our loved ones, we will keep quiet about how much this practice hurts. In the Mormon world, this is “normal.” <br /> Perhaps the hardest part about leaving the cocoon of Mormonism is re-learning the concept of “normal.” It’s normal to respect people of different religions. It’s normal not to talk too much about religion. It’s normal not to try and convert others to your religion. It’s normal to have a wedding where everyone is allowed to attend, regardless of religious belief. </span></div>
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postmormongirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455759739126093761noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7318606957645672999.post-62990305656670796122014-08-12T12:44:00.004-06:002014-08-12T12:44:53.615-06:00The Miracle of Modern Medicine<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7U_XY7f8S0FeqMYGk95QKJvIH8_X1QTfRzXEc5NLI8sbjdXQTnGZxe4GkkQN6LyrDz0viBA-K9nnZlWvISreeiQCSim8HzBVSV5hwhT9YFTF2ykCYqk8EhqmOYgwOPWhBMZaORmANYQ/s1600/NEA13_72.tif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7U_XY7f8S0FeqMYGk95QKJvIH8_X1QTfRzXEc5NLI8sbjdXQTnGZxe4GkkQN6LyrDz0viBA-K9nnZlWvISreeiQCSim8HzBVSV5hwhT9YFTF2ykCYqk8EhqmOYgwOPWhBMZaORmANYQ/s1600/NEA13_72.tif" height="153" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.nei.nih.gov/photo/keyword.asp?conditions=Normal+Eye+Images&match=all">Source</a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> These past few years, there have been a lot of medical emergencies and surgical interventions in my family. I was hit by a car. My husband had sinus surgery and tore a tendon in his hand. I had LASIK done. My husband tore his ACL and had an ear surgery that restored his hearing in his right ear. <br /> Four years ago, I had surgery that stitched up a laceration that had peeled my skin down to the bone and exposed my right eye. I later had surgery that tightened up a drooping muscle in my right eye. Now the scar is almost invisible, just a little line that stretches across my forehead. Three months ago, I had an all-laser surgery that shaved nanometers off my cornea, forever changing my vision from 20/2700 to a perfect 20/20. Every morning, when I wake up and reflexively search for my glasses only to realize I don’t need them anymore, I am astonished at the miracle of perfect vision, all thanks to a surgeon and a highly-advanced piece of machinery. <br /> My husband had surgery that removed a cyst in his sinuses and fixed a deviated septum. With the cyst removed, the allergies that had plagued him are almost disappeared. Then, a year later, the same surgeon went in and separated the bones of his middle ear, fixing a congenital issue that had been steadily causing progressive hearing loss. Had the surgeon not corrected the issue, he would have gone deaf. Now his hearing is restored. In another month, another surgeon will go in and reconstruct my husband’s ACL, performing a surgery to fix an injury that could have crippled him but won’t, thanks to the many medical professionals who spent years perfecting this particular surgery. <br /><br /> I am constantly amazed at how much humans are capable of, how as human beings we can come up with so many creative solutions to so many problems. </span></div>
postmormongirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455759739126093761noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7318606957645672999.post-37077820846098296262014-07-01T09:15:00.001-06:002014-07-01T09:21:58.694-06:00Mormon Control<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;"> I have
tried <a href="http://www.salon.com/2012/07/11/my_failed_mormon_resignation/">three times to have my name removed from the membership rolls of theChurch of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints</a>, more commonly called the Mormon
Church, only to have my requests go ignored. Technically, I am still counted as
a member, in spite of my strong agnosticism and sinful habits, such as my
undying love for all things coffee. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Last week
the Mormon Church <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2014/06/24/us/Kate-Kelly-Mormon-Church-Excommunicates-Ordain-Women-Founder.html?_r=0">excommunicated Kate Kelly, who does believe in the Mormon faith.</a> Her “sin” was to found an organization called <a href="http://ordainwomen.org/">Ordain Women</a>, which called
on the authorities to prayerfully consider the matter of granting women the
priesthood. A mild request and one that would have made Mormonism a much
friendlier religion. But Kelly was excommunicated, kicked out of the church
that she loved so much.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Kate Kelly
wants nothing more than to remain a member of the Mormon Church. I want nothing
more than to leave. Neither of us have had our wishes fulfilled. I have had
authorities talk down to me, questioning my maturity and the wisdom of my
decision. Kelly’s worthiness was discussed in a private meeting, which Kelly
was not privy to, with an all-male board deciding that excommunication was
necessary. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> One woman
wants to stay in. Another woman wishes to leave. Neither of us have been
granted what we desire. And in the middle is a church that seems desperate for
control. Control over a pesky woman who dared asked for equal rights. Control
over a pesky apostate who wants to leave. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Perhaps
it seems small. Kelly can continue to advocate for equal rights outside of
Mormonism. I haven’t been to church in years. But the reality is that these
actions create a long chain of undesirable reactions. Already Kelly has been
branded a sinner, a troublemaker, by the simple act of excommunication.
Everything she has worked for has been tainted by the label of apostasy. I, on
the other hand, run the risk of being hunted down by the missionaries and local
authorities. Within Mormonism, being hunted down is the norm, rather than the
exception. When I have children, their names will be put on the membership
rolls. When these children turn eight, there is a strong probability that the
missionaries will turn up on my doorstep to convince my children that their
eternal salvation rests on baptism. No parent wants a nineteen-year old kid
telling their child that Mommy and Daddy are wrong and bound for hell. I could
hope that the missionaries and church members would respect my rights as a
parent – but I have seen members and missionaries overstep the
boundaries a thousand times before, all in the name of religious zeal. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> I
sincerely hope that Kate Kelly finds peace in moving forward. I have found my own peace, although it
fluctuates at times. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> But maybe the secret is in not letting the Mormon Church
control us. I’ll find a way to get past my failed resignation attempts and see
the manipulations of the Mormon Church for what it really is – the futile
attempts of a church that is desperate to avoid facing its own impotence and
irrelevance. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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postmormongirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455759739126093761noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7318606957645672999.post-45289335291379469952014-06-23T15:18:00.001-06:002014-06-23T15:38:05.162-06:00Exhaustion and the Kate Kelly Excommunication<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Kate
Kelly, leader of the <a href="http://ordainwomen.org/">“Ordain Women”</a> group, was <a href="http://ordainwomen.org/reaction-to-kate-kellys-excommunication/">officially excommunicated</a> from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, more commonly referred to
as the Mormon Church. Kate Kelly is the leader of the Ordain Women group, which
advocated for giving women the priesthood, which in the Mormon Church is a necessary
prerequisite for any positions of authority. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> To give
you a little perspective on the issue, boys are given the Aaronic priesthood at
the age of twelve. At sixteen, boys are granted the Melchezidek priesthood.
Ultimately, holding the priesthood is a necessary prerequisite for any position
of authority within the Mormon Church. There are a few women who hold offices –
but even these leadership positions can be over-ridden at any point by the male
authorities. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> When I
was a young adolescent, I went to girls’ camp every summer. The camp was
directed by women who had volunteered their time to organize and direct the
camp. At the time, I never questioned the fact that there was always a male
member of the priesthood present at camp. Sometimes the bishop, sometimes one
of the counselors, there was always at least one male priesthood holder in
residence. I didn’t realize that there was a policy that all-female must be
chaperoned by a male priesthood holder. Church authorities – by definition male,
by virtue of the priesthood exclusion on females – are allowed to sit in on any
female meeting. The authorities are also allowed to over-ride any decision made
by the few female leaders within the Mormon Church. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Kate Kelly, with her Ordain Women
movement, was seeking to make Mormonism a friendlier, more egalitarian
religion. But, as they have shown, the Mormon authorities are not ready for change. Once again, the Mormon Church is heading
backwards. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Over the past week, as I have been
watching as the Kate Kelly sage unfold, my predominant emotion has been exhaustion.
I’m tired. I’m tired of my Mormon legacy, of having to deal with the inherent sexism
that I grew up with, the inflexibility and obfuscation of Mormon leaders. The
Mormon authorities don’t release their financial reports, aren’t honest about
the unsavory aspects of their history, and continue to oppose any broadening of
social rights. My Mormon past is an uncomfortable burden to bear. <span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">I wish that Kate Kelly had
been granted the opportunity to make Mormonism a friendlier religion. But she wasn't and I'm no longer Mormon. </span></span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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postmormongirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455759739126093761noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7318606957645672999.post-8148852314736234572014-05-16T14:31:00.004-06:002014-05-16T14:31:33.382-06:00Bicycle Art<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Sometimes art is found in surprising places. I recently watched the documentary, <a href="http://www.redbull.com/us/en/bike/stories/1331579359855/tackling-the-sea-of-rock">"The Sea of Rock,"</a> that followed the mountain-bikers Harald Philipp and Thomas Ohler, as they attempted to bike the Sea of Rock in Austria. Watching these athletes, as they finessed their unwieldy looking bikes into navigating an impossible terrain, all I could think of was that this was its own form of art.<br />
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"The Sea of Rock" can be found on Youtube - it's about 15 minutes long and well worth the watch.<br />
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postmormongirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455759739126093761noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7318606957645672999.post-23191189909297006302014-05-08T11:35:00.001-06:002014-05-08T11:35:34.048-06:00Out Of Sight, Out Of Mind<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;"> There is
a homeless man living at my local library.
I began piecing the clues together about a year ago: the rickety white
sedan with a backseat stuffed with clothing that was always in the same parking
spot, and the quiet man, dressed in clean but threadbare clothing, with swollen
sandal-clad feet, who was at the library day after day. One day, as the library closed, I saw this
man walking slowly to the old white car and get in. The pieces clicked together.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.5in;"> I suppose, if you weren’t a regular
at the library, you might never realize.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.5in;">The neighborhood that my library is located in is extraordinarily
wealthy.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.5in;">I used to go for runs here,
watching as vans full of gardeners and maids parked on the streets, entering the
huge homes to work long hours so that the owners can return at the end of the
day to a fairy-tale home.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.5in;">And here, in
the library, a homeless man is found, hidden from sight.</span><span style="font-size: large; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Even now, I hesitate to write about this man, out of fear as to what might happen to him should people put together the pieces. The way we treat the homeless in this country - criminalizing and stigmatizing people who are already down on their luck - says a lot about who we are as a nation. There was also a homeless man that rode my morning bus, always getting on at the same spot and exiting at another. In this case, I could identify him as homeless both by the sign he carried as well as the odor. The others who rode the bus with me - most of whom had been riding the same bus for years - treated him with a certain wary distance. No one said anything against him. No one said anything to him. What I usually thought about was just how distressing it would be to go through life with no warm bed and no access to a proper bathroom. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">A few months ago, I read the book "<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B004EEOACC/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B004EEOACC&linkCode=as2&tag=aposmorlif-20">Another Bullshit Night in Suck City</a><img .="" alt="" border="0" height="1" span="" src="http://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=aposmorlif-20&l=as2&o=1&a=B004EEOACC" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" /><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> This memoir, which was later turned into the movie <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0455323/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">"Being Flynn,"</a> deals with the author's relationship with his father, who turned up at the homeless shelter he was working at. Nick Flynn writes of the instability that pushed his father into homelessness, as well as the instability that he himself inherited from his father. He also writes of simply working in a homeless shelter, as he sees all of the people that fall through the cracks of our society, whether by hard luck or illness. </span></span></span></div>
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postmormongirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455759739126093761noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7318606957645672999.post-24718225022469266052014-03-09T18:25:00.003-06:002014-03-09T18:25:40.881-06:00Empathy Pizza<span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br /> On Saturday, I attended a mandatory training session for my teacher certification program. The program was supposed to provide a pizza lunch. When lunchtime came, the pizzas had not arrived, so the directors shuttled us into our next training session. An hour went by. Still no pizza. One of the directors, a blonde woman in her late 20’s, came in to tell us that the pizzas still weren’t here. <br /> “We appreciate your understanding,” she said. She looked frazzled. I felt sympathetic – I have spent most of the last six months as a teacher feeling overwhelmed. <br /> Most of us shrugged. We could wait for lunch. Then someone stood up, a big burly Teach For America fellow with a deep authoritative voice. <br /> “Life happens,” he said. “You get a flat tire, your kid gets sick, you get stuck in traffic. But if we are even a minute late to these sessions, you lock us out. So why are you coming in here asking us to be understanding when you don’t extend the same courtesy to us? So no, this is not acceptable - get your act together.”<br /> All of the teachers started talking about all of the times they had been penalized for being 5 or 10 minutes late. A few teachers cheered. I gave the TFA fellow a high-five. I could feel all of my anger and frustration bubbling under the surface. That was all it took for me to switch from feeling sympathetic towards another frazzled human being to being angry about all of the times these same frazzled people had failed to extend a similar empathy towards me. <br /> The woman looked like she wanted to either shout or cry. “OK, I’ll do whatever it takes – next time I’ll have them deliver pizzas an hour early.” <br /> I wanted to tell her that the issue wasn't about the pizza - it was about us wanting to be respected as responsible and conscientious adults. But I am not sure the message would have been heard. <br /> I work in a district that boasts about its mentoring program for first-year teachers but fails to mention that the funds for this mentoring program are taken from the first-year teacher’s paycheck. Every paycheck about $20 is deducted to pay my mentor, a fellow teacher who continually tells me what I am doing wrong but doesn’t offer any solutions. I also work in a district that keeps adding more and more requirements – tutoring, a heavier teaching load, extra students, extra training responsibilities – while at the same time eliminating the tenure system. Tenure, as imperfect a system as that may be, still offered teachers enough job security to say no to extra responsibilities. Now that security is gone and teachers are getting pressured into taking on extra responsibilities. I myself was given an extra subject to teach in my first week of school as a teacher. <br /> I look around at other teachers in my certification program. I see them working and stressing and getting burnt out. I see how much they work and how much they care. I know how much I care. I also see myself turning into an angry person, all because I am stuck in a program that doesn’t respect me as a responsible adult, that is constantly adding more and more burdens onto my workload, and that is currently punishing me for not doing enough. I remember why I became a teacher in the first place and a very big part of me feels a keen sense of loss at the way my dream has turned out. <br /><br /> Sometimes I just wish that we could all just sit down for a pizza lunch and empathize. </span>postmormongirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455759739126093761noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7318606957645672999.post-59798312073441328042014-02-23T13:27:00.001-06:002014-07-04T08:36:39.349-06:00Mormon Open Letter<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have spent a lot of time writing about some of the disillusionment and estrangement I felt during my exit process from Mormonism, a lot of which stemmed from the misconceptions surrounding Mormons who leave. Currently, there is an open letter to the LDS Leaders, which was released with the following statement. </span><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">"As current and former Mormons, many of us have been through emotional turmoil as we’ve struggled with our beliefs. Some of us even made the difficult decision to leave. Our most cherished relationships have been strained or lost. We’ve experienced pain and distress, sometimes having to keep silent out of fear—all because of a lack of understanding between active members and those who question their faith."</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">There are a lot of different people who read this blog. Our common connection is Mormonism, whether it is curiosity about Mormonism, a past connection with Mormonism, or just a need for practicing Mormons to understand those who chose to leave. Our common denominator is that we want to understand each other. The actions of the current leaders - and the lack of historical transparency - has only served to cause divisions among family and friends. So, if you have the time, I would recommend checking out the Open Letter. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Mormon Open Letter can be found here:</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.mormonopenletter.com/"><span style="font-size: large;">http://www.mormonopenletter.com/</span></a></div>
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postmormongirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455759739126093761noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7318606957645672999.post-60155470170843379762014-01-28T15:06:00.000-06:002014-02-01T11:41:19.829-06:00The Girl With The Mormon Background<span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br /> “When people talk to you, the first thing they want to talk about is Mormonism.”<br /><br /> Last summer I attended a writer’s workshop, where one of the participants made this comment over lunch. Of all the many things that I am – scientist, writer, ex-Mormon, victim of a freak auto-pedestrian accident – the primary information that my classmates wanted to know about was the Mormonism. It is, after all, the topic of a hilarious Broadway musical and also a source of confusion, sometime hilarious, sometimes heartbreaking, to a lot of people. Who are these crazy Mormons and why won’t they be honest with us? I suppose, as an ex-Mormon, they saw me as someone that could give a more nuanced answer than an active Mormon who just wants to convert others to Mormonism. <br /> One of the workshop attendants was a black Puerto Rican woman, whose brother joined Mormonism shortly before the priesthood ban on blacks was lifted. She spent a lot of time talking to me about the effect her brother’s Mormonism had on her extended family as well as the personal toll Mormonism had had on her brother. I could sense her confusion, as well as some of her heartbreak. The Mormon Church has caused a lot of hurt over the years, from the racist teachings of past leaders to the current antipathy of the current leaders towards gays. I often feel torn between needing to come to peace with my legacy as a former Mormon and wanting to erase that part of my life like a stain. <br /> I waver sometimes when bringing up my Mormon background and my post-Mormon status. Mormonism was a big part of my up-bringing. Leaving Mormonism was a big part of my growth towards adulthood. And yet, the minute I mention the subject, I feel as though I have been marked. The Girl With The Mormon Background. (Which isn’t nearly as cool as being, say, the Girl With The Dragon Tattoo) Maybe I should tattoo an M on my forehead and be done with the matter. But I still haven’t figured out the right approach and I’m not sure that I ever will. <br /><br /> So I suppose I shall just have to remain as The Girl With The Mormon Background. </span>
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postmormongirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455759739126093761noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7318606957645672999.post-52358339326491337572014-01-23T19:40:00.000-06:002014-01-23T19:40:30.247-06:00Mormon Bullying<span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br /> I have been having long-running issues with a co-worker, one that I have been trying to ameliorate for a full six months, ever since starting a new position as a teacher. I don’t want to go into details, other than to say that the relationship has been rocky from the very beginning. I have tried my hardest to keep the peace but doing so is exerting a pretty high emotional toll. <br /> Today, when I finally broke down and told some of my co-workers the specifics of my issues with this co-worker, their response was unanimous. <br /> “This is bullying,” they said. Five teachers, ranging in age from early career to veteran teachers, all saying the same thing. <br /> I always thought bullying was for high schoolers. But bullying doesn’t end with high school. And being raised Mormon is an especially potent combination for bullies and victims. <br /> Growing up in a Mormon community meant an erosion of personal boundaries. Being Mormon means being subjected to yearly interviews by bishops, none of whom have been trained as professional clergy and who aren’t bound to confidence. I had my first interview as a twelve-year old, where I was interviewed by the bishop, whose day-job was as a hospital human resource manager, about my worthiness and personal life. Had I stayed, these interviews would have continued throughout my adult life, had I wanted to remain a Mormon in good standing. Requiring an individual to answer personal questions about their private and intimate life – and to ultimately allow another person make a decision regarding their worthiness, a decision that can have social ramifications within the close-knit Mormon community – is to force individuals to hand their identity and self-worth over to someone else, someone who has the power to refuse you. <br /> People talk. The bishop we had while I was in high school had an especially gossipy extended family. But to refuse an interview with the bishop was unthinkable. You just did it. You did it because you were supposed to and if you didn’t, you were a bad Mormon. And nothing was worse than being a bad Mormon. <br /> Add in to this the teaching that the Mormon authorities, from the local leaders all the way up to the leader Thomas Monson, are given their authority from God, and you have a situation that fosters abuse. <br /> The truth is, I’ve never learned how to stand up to bullies. My strategy is to either grin and bear it or to tell the individual in question to f*ck off. Or to simply walk away. But I’ve never learned how to navigate a working relationship with a bully. I’ve never learned how to face bullies down or discover their weaknesses. I’ve never learned the more diplomatic ways of telling <br /> I’m not sure what my strategy will be with this particular co-worker. Perhaps file a complaint and ask to have her removed from her duties. Or simply point out her behavior, although I think the situation may be a little too far gone for that. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Either way, I need to figure out a way to deprogram the Mormon in me, the one that is too timid to speak out against an authority figure and who is too timid to make trouble. </span></div>
postmormongirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455759739126093761noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7318606957645672999.post-6894332887541635712014-01-16T13:57:00.001-06:002014-01-16T13:57:34.023-06:00January Tune-Up <br /><span style="font-size: large;"> I’m not a fan of New Year’s resolutions. I get irritated by the hordes of people crowding the gym, most of who will stop coming by February. Over the years, I’ve learned that grandiose resolutions – lose weight!, run a marathon!, cut out sugar! – rarely last a week. As I listen to my co-workers discussing food scales and diet plans, I can only think about the fact that good intentions are eventually replaced by reality. <br /> But what I find works is to fine-tune my life. Instead of turning life upside-down in search of becoming a different person, I’m trying to take a look at what is going on and to make a few tweaks. <br /> 2013 was a pretty rough year. I got caught up in an ugly family drama, which ended up throwing me straight back into the rage-filled morass that I’ve spent a lifetime trying to overcome. Then I started a new teaching job that took over my life. I’ve spent the last four months working long, hard, exhausting hours, to the point that I’ve lost track of my old life. <br /> And so, finding myself back in school after the winter holidays, I find myself looking to tweak my life a little, finding ways to cut down on the workload and carve out a little more time for the things that I enjoy. The truth is that I don’t know if I am in the right career. I don’t know if my current job is going to be a long-term gig or if I am going to be searching for new job in May. My hunch is that I may be looking for a different teaching gig, if not a new profession. I am hoping to start up grad school again in the fall. That may be possible – or it may not be, I’m not sure. But for the moment, I’m simply looking to find a little extra time to do the things that I enjoy and the things that will benefit me in the long term. </span>postmormongirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455759739126093761noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7318606957645672999.post-79258687749446604432014-01-11T08:09:00.000-06:002014-01-11T08:25:48.299-06:00Mormon Busy-work<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Back in the days when I was a believing Mormon, my church-mates and I often touted the busy-ness of our lives as a mark of pride. We work up early every morning for seminary, showing up at the church building at 6:30 for 45 minutes of scripture study. We had church on Sundays that lasted 3 hours. We had youth activities. Most of our time outside work or school was taken up by church activities. Mentally, we were preparing ourselves for the days when we would go on missions and have children and become homemakers and serve as lay-clergy and do volunteer work for the church, balancing the ever-increasing demands of life and church. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> We told ourselves – and each other – that the time we invested and the sacrifices we made were for the better good. These were the sacrifices that got us closer to the ever-illusive promise of the Celestial Kingdom and godliness. I too was constantly exhausted, struggling to balance my life with the demands of church. But I told myself that the work just made me stronger and so I persevered. <br /> Looking back, I wonder how much of that was time well spent and how much of that was time wasted. As Mormons, we were workers. We invested a lot of time and effort, struggling to balance everything that the church demanded of us. But how many of these requirements were impactful and how many of these requirements were simply busywork, tasks designed to keep the members exhausted and stuck in the system? <br /> As a Mormon, I learned how to work. I learned how to wake up early even when I didn’t want to. I learned how to keep going even when I wanted to quit. I learned to pull long hours and still wake up the next day. I learned not to stop. <br /> However, what I didn’t learn was to make my work mean something. I never learned how give my work impact and significance. I never learned how to prioritize and to establish boundaries. I never learned how to say no or to question whether I should be doing something. I never learned to value my time. <br /> I went to seminary because Mormonism required me to. I didn’t question why I was spending 45 minutes a day learning something that didn’t seem relevant. I didn’t learn to ask if it was a productive use of time or simply another activity that lead me towards exhaustion without accomplishing anything significant.<br /> Sometimes I feel this idea of busywork strikes at the heart of what Mormonism is. Mormonism is a demanding religion – members are required to invest significant amounts of time, money, and emotional energy. This has been the case from the earliest days of Mormonism, when the early converts gave up their homes and their families to follow the leaders across the US. However, we were never allowed to ask why. We couldn’t question the leaders. We weren’t supposed to read the outside literature on Mormonism. <br /><br /> We were just supposed to stay busy following directions. </span>postmormongirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455759739126093761noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7318606957645672999.post-23551660002851973622014-01-04T19:07:00.001-06:002014-01-04T19:07:50.681-06:00Attendance Lessons<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Last month, my bosses at work decided to institute an attendance competition. As high school teachers, we are required to submit attendance electronically every period. In order to improve our record, which factors into the amount of funding our school receives, the deans of instruction started a competition, declaring that the team with the best attendance record would be treated to breakfast by the losing team. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Some teachers are very methodical and always get their attendance in on time. I am not one of them. As a first-year teacher responsible for teaching 3 different subjects, I feel like I’m juggling chainsaws, trying to remember to do everything that is required of me. Everyday, I teach three sections of anatomy and physiology, two sections of AP Biology, and one section of a research class. On the days when I am more frazzled than normal (and there are many of them), my attendance record slips. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">At the end of every day, the deans sent out attendance records, with details of which teacher forgot to take attendance during what period. Inevitably, my name was always on the list, a badge of shame as to my sloppy record. The leader of our team – the head of the social studies department – began to get into the habit of stopping me in the hallway to talk to me about my attendance. Then she started to send out team-wide emails every period to remind us to take attendance. Emails that I never saw in time for them to be of any use. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am a pretty stubborn person. Put enough pressure on me and my first instinct is to do the opposite of what people are pressuring me to do. However, this was the workplace and the competition, misguided as it may have been, was for a worthy cause. I did want to be better at taking attendance even if it did irritate me that my name and attendance record was sent to the rest of my colleagues on a daily basis. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So I swallowed my pride. I bit my tongue, holding back the sarcastic comments, and I nodded along to my colleague’s suggestions. One of my students, in a burst of energy that I have yet to see being applied to biology, made a huge sign for my classroom that said “TAKE ATTENDANCE.” My problematic class was the last period of the day, when I was too tired to remember much of anything. So a teacher down the hall assigned a student to come and remind me. Everyday, this student, who at the beginning of the year wrote down that his goal for my class was “to remain invisible for the entire year,” came walking into my room to remind me to take attendance. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My attendance-taking improved, if only marginally. I was still the teacher that marred my team’s record but my average improved and eventually the competition ended, with my team coming out as the winner. When the holiday break ends and I return to work, the other team will be required to bring us breakfast. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I also suspect that I learned something. Although what that lesson was, I still haven’t figured it out.</span> </div>
postmormongirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455759739126093761noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7318606957645672999.post-78456544050895412532013-11-30T15:01:00.001-06:002013-11-30T15:02:10.932-06:00A Hunger Games Thanksgiving<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Last weekend I went to the movies and saw <a href="http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/the_hunger_games_catching_fire/">The Hunger Games: Catching Fire.</a> Now, on the Saturday following Thanksgiving, as I come off a turkey and stuffing induced coma, I find myself a little disconcerted by the juxtaposition of a gluttony-fueled holiday and a movie about starving kids killing each other. <br /> I first read the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B004XJRQUQ/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B004XJRQUQ&linkCode=as2&tag=aposmorlif-20">The Hunger Games Trilogy</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=aposmorlif-20&l=as2&o=1&a=B004XJRQUQ" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" /> about a month before the first movie came out. Although I had heard a lot of people talk about the Hunger Games, I was initially quite opposed to reading the books; the concept of kids killing each other in a reality-show format did not seem like something that I wanted to read. Then I was lent a copy of the book and I ended up getting hooked, primarily because of the strength of the main character Katniss. So I finished the series and went to the movies. And although I enjoyed both the books and the movies, I find some of the media sensation around the series to be a little off-putting. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"> The Hunger Games is a story about the divide between the upper-classes and lower-classes, with the upper-classes being represented by the opulent and decadent Capitol residents. And yet, the predominant advertising that I see around me is </span><a href="http://www.covergirl.com/catching-fire" style="font-size: x-large;">CoverGirl’s Capitol Beauty Line.</a><span style="font-size: large;"> According to CoverGirl, the Capitol residents, who cheer on the contestants and glamorize the ‘fight-to-the-death’ brutality of the Hunger Games, are the trendsetters I should be emulating. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Add into that the craziness of Black Friday shopping, the massive quantities of Thanksgiving leftovers that I am still consuming, and I find the result to be a little unsettling. Perhaps I’ll forget about all of this strangeness as I head into the holiday season, distracted by the holiday deals around me and by the bustle that marks this season. Maybe I’ll buy the sparkly nail polish, <a href="http://catchingfire.subway.com/SignIn">eat the Hunger Games inspired Subway offering</a>, and fork over money for merchandise, all in the name of capitalism. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Or shall I say Capitol-ism?</span></div>
postmormongirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455759739126093761noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7318606957645672999.post-71004525859668136502013-11-09T21:44:00.001-06:002013-11-09T21:44:30.619-06:00Failure<span style="font-size: large;"><br /><i><br />“You may encounter many defeats, but you must not be defeated. In fact, it may be necessary to encounter the defeats, so you can know who you are, what you can rise from, how you can still come out of it.” </i><br /><br />Maya Angelou<br /><br /> <br /><br /> In the course of my lifetime, I have failed many times. I’ve changed career paths multiple times, lost friendships, burnt bridges, and failed to meet deadlines. </span><span style="font-size: large;"> Right now I am in the beginning months of a new job as a high school teacher, with a teaching-load that seems almost insurmountable. Everyday, I have to teach three classes of anatomy and physiology, two classes of AP Biology, and one research class. I am responsible for planning lessons, coming up with activities, and grading. In short, I am overworked and overwhelmed, to the point that simply doing a mediocre job is leaving me on the verge of burn-out. Perhaps, in time, I will become a good teacher. But for now, I am not. I am, quite simply, a mediocre teacher, perhaps even a teacher edging into failure. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"> I see a similar parallel in some of my own students. I teach AP Biology to a group of very high-achieving tenth-graders, many of whom have spent their lives getting A’s and being told they are special. I am required to teach biology at a college level, which means that I have to cover the material at a faster and more detailed pace than what my students are used to. At their age, my class represents my student's first real foray into the demands of college-level work. </span><div>
<span style="font-size: large;"> Some of my students have risen to the challenge while others are struggling to keep up. Unfortunately, some of the struggling students are starting to lash out at me. And although I remind my students that hard work is essential to success, some of them simply aren’t putting in the necessary time, instead creating flimsy excuses for their poor performance. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"> Failure – and our response to failure – is what defines us. Failure is what spurs us to move on, to try harder, and to change. Failure is the point at which we adapt and become stronger. Or rather, failure is an opportunity to adapt and become stronger. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"> I wish that I could tell my students the importance of learning to fail. Even if I did, I am not sure that they would listen. I suppose that is a lesson that they will have to learn on their own. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"> Even if learning that lesson requires failing first.</span></div>
postmormongirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455759739126093761noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7318606957645672999.post-27658216211718178492013-10-20T14:35:00.002-06:002013-10-20T14:35:43.682-06:00Fake It Til You Make It, Anatomy Style<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">Recently, I started a new job teaching anatomy and physiology. I have a pretty comprehensive background in developmental biology – I can lecture for hours on the development of the heart, brain, and muscular system. I can talk about the structure of the cell and how structure lends itself to function. I can trace the genetic pathways and give the structure of many of the mature organs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But the anatomy of the adult human body? I’m a little lost. I teach within the context of health science and I simply don’t have the medical background required. And so I find myself falling back on an old Mormon adage: “fake it til you make it.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> In the Mormon context, “fake it til you make it” means claiming that you believe in Mormonism until you find yourself actually believing in Mormonism. Every month we would have testimony meetings, where members were encouraged to share their belief in the truth of the Gospel. We were told that the best way to gain a testimony is by bearing it. And so every month we would be surrounded by members who all claimed to believe, who all claimed to know. As to who was an actual believer, I am not sure. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Now, in my new job, faking it until you make it means not admitting that I’ve never dissected a cat before. It means comforting students who are nervous about the up-coming cat dissections, telling them that it isn’t as scary as it sounds, when in reality I’ve never dissected a cat before. I have dissected other things – I am a master of dissecting embryonic and new-born mice – but never a full-grown cat. I can only hope that my constant reassurance of students hold true for me as well. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Last week I lectured on skin conditions. Most of the knowledge I presented I had learned just a few days before. For the lecture, I had to draw on my background in biology and I also had to research a lot of conditions beforehand. Even so, there were a lot of questions I could not answer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> The difference? When I didn’t know something, I said so. I didn’t try to lie and I didn’t pretend to knowledge that I didn’t have. I hope that the students understand that their teacher isn’t all-knowing. If they can’t or won’t understand this fact, that is none of my concern. For me, I am simply trying to be the best teacher that I can, within the context of my limitations. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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postmormongirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455759739126093761noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7318606957645672999.post-60693337962677444882013-10-12T08:20:00.001-06:002013-10-13T18:32:47.181-06:00Book Review: False Prophet<div class="MsoNormal">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Satire (noun): the use of humor, irony, exaggeration, or
ridicule to expose or criticize people’s stupidity or vices, particularly in
the context of contemporary politics and other topical issues.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sometimes the truth can be strangest of all. In her book </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00FENTG1C/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00FENTG1C&linkCode=as2&tag=aposmorlif-20" style="font-size: x-large;">"False Prophet,"</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=aposmorlif-20&l=as2&o=1&a=B00FENTG1C" style="border: none !important; font-size: x-large; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" /> <span style="font-size: large;">author Donna Banta once again draws on her skills as
a satirist to expose the weird, sometimes odd, almost always heart-breaking
realities of being a Mormon. In “<a href="http://postmormongirl.blogspot.com/2012/08/book-review-girls-from-fourth-ward.html">The Girls From Fourth Ward,”</a> the story was about how far Mormon girls would go to
get into BYU. In “False Prophet,” the
story centers around Ryan and the very sweet but over-worked Carrie Zimmerman,
who finds herself repeating the refrain “I love being a Mormon,” in order to
cope with the exhausting and mind-numbing realities of being the bishop’s
wife. </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> “False
Prophet,” picks up again with Lieutenant Matt Ryan, who is burnt-out and
disillusioned from his last run-in with the Mormons, who had foiled his
investigation at every turn, ultimately leaving the murder unsolved. When he discovers another murdered man
clutching a blue and gold embossed Book of Mormon, his reaction is, quite
simply, to close his eyes and whisper “Jesus Christ. Not again.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> This time, the murder victim, Brother Sid Dooley, was a lonely widower who embraced Mormonism with zeal after the death
of his wife and only daughter. Brother Dooley is the eccentric character that is found in every Mormon congregation
(ward), a lonely man who walks around claiming to see angels and talk with
God. When he turns up murdered, having
ranted about a false prophet shortly before his death, the only suspect that
the police can come up with is Bishop Zimmerman, who had spoken to Dooley
shortly before his death and was the one to discover his body. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The story is a real who-dunit, an
adventure that keeps you guessing at every turn. There is the familiar cast of characters from
the first book, with an increased focus on the sweet but exhausted bishop’s
wife Carrie Zimmerman, who is nine months pregnant and stressed about balancing
her family’s meager finances with her ever-increasing frustration over her
narrowing life. “I love being a Mormon,”
she whispers at every turn, while the realities of having a husband falsely
arrested for murder pushes her to make choices that aren’t quite Mormon in
nature. </span></div>
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postmormongirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455759739126093761noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7318606957645672999.post-74187272313985518572013-10-06T07:44:00.001-06:002013-10-06T07:44:17.876-06:00Scars<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">If you look at my face, I have a
faint scar that crosses my forehead. It
doesn’t look like much, just a simple scar that goes across the right side of
my forehead and then disappears along my brow-line. The only hint as to the severity of the scar
happens when I raise my eyebrows; my right eyebrow just doesn’t lift as high as
the left one. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I got the scar on my forehead in an
accident. I was hit by an elderly driver
while walking to work. My head shattered
the windshield and as a result, the flap of skin above my right eye was peeled
down to the bone. Thanks to the work of
an excellent plastic surgeon, this injury looks like nothing more than an
innocuous scar, one that merits only a passing notice, if at all. For me, the only memory of this injury is the
scar and the perpetual numbness of that area.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am twenty-eight years old. I have been out of the Mormon Church for
twelve years. Most of the time, when I
am going about my daily life, I don’t really think about the past much. Time is the ultimate healer and for me, it
has healed a lot. Growing up Mormon is a
hard burden to bear – I spent my childhood and teenage years feeling
insufficient and fearing my doubts. The process
of leaving Mormonism, given the misconceptions surrounding people who leave, is
also a hard burden to bear. The
experience has left its own kind of scar, one that is not visible.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I could get surgery to fix the scar
on my forehead. There isn’t much that
can be done about the nerve damage but I could have the scar lightened, even
removed. But every time I think about
the options, I find myself hesitating.
The truth is, scars are often a reminder of what we have survived. I survived getting hit by a car. I survived Mormonism. And so I will wear these marks as a reminder
of what I have survived. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
postmormongirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455759739126093761noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7318606957645672999.post-39238624307577328952013-09-21T09:16:00.000-06:002013-10-13T18:32:06.860-06:00Book Review: Into The Jungle - Great Adventures In The Search For Evolution<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<br /> The process of doing science makes for some wonderful stories. In his book, “Into The Jungle: Great Adventures in the Search of Evolution,” renowned scientist <a href="http://seanbcarroll.com/">Sean B. Carroll</a> tells some of the stories behind great discoveries in evolution. The most famous story of all, the story of Charles Darwin, involved a five-year journey around the world, during which Darwin collected and observed plants, animals, and fossils from all places of the world. After going home again, Darwin then spent twenty years categorizing his discoveries, eventually publishing “The Origin of Species,” in which he laid out a truly revolutionary theory of evolution by natural selection. Charles Darwin and the voyage of the Beagle is the most famous story of evolutionary biology. But there are others. Some of these stories include that of Alfred Russell Wallace, who spent years in the jungles of the Amazon River Basin and the Malay archipelago, collecting and observing. He too formed a theory of evolution that was similar to Charles Darwin, a fact that spurred Darwin to finally publish his theory. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> All told, the book “Into The Jungle” tells the story behind the science. We get to see Darwin as a bright curious boy with an inability to pay attention. We get to see Darwin as he is traveling around the world, seeing some of the oddities that later spurred him to develop his particular theory of evolution. We get to see Wallace in the jungle, collecting specimens and coming up with his idea of “survival of the fittest.” So too do we get to see some of the smaller forgotten stories – Roy Chapman Andrews launching a massive expedition that uncovered dinosaur eggs in the Gobi desert, Marjorie Courtenay-Latimer discovering the living remains of a fish long thought to be extinct, and the father-son team of Walter and Luis Alvarez teaming together to uncover evidence of a massive extinction event that lead to the extinction of the dinosaurs. All told, there are nine stories. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"> “Into The Jungle” is not a textbook. It is a book that will teach you something but it is not a book that assumes you have a background in biology. Instead, it is a book that shows the human side of research – the struggles and triumphs that are at the root every great discovery.</span><br />
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postmormongirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455759739126093761noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7318606957645672999.post-48039661323218192212013-09-13T19:36:00.003-06:002013-10-13T18:31:43.975-06:00One Step At A Time<span style="font-size: large;"> I started writing in college, while taking a creative writing course. The lecturer, a woman who had just received her MFA in creative writing, was a very gentle about introducing us to the beauty of stories and languages. I enjoyed her class and even after the class ended, her love for language stuck with me.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Over the years, I kept at it, in a pretty haphazard fashion. Then, a couple years ago, I began writing regularly. Writing slowly turned into a daily habit. Little snippets of writing, bigger essays, stories. Little by little, I became acquainted with the use of language.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> I get frustrated easily. I also psych myself out. In the beginning I am enthusiastic. Then the doubts usually creep in. But something about writing - the slow accumulation of ideas and phrases - keeps me going. And here's the thing - most of what I write doesn't get used. At least not when I write it. But the longer I've kept at writing, the more I find myself using phrases and ideas that, when I first came up with them, weren't useful. Then, as time goes on and I expand my database, some of these ideas and phrases take on new uses. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> In some ways, the process of learning how to write has taught me to keep going. To have patience with myself. And to take things, one step at a time, one piece at a time, until you reach a point at which things start to come together. </span>postmormongirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455759739126093761noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7318606957645672999.post-61025619414958014712013-08-06T14:20:00.001-06:002013-08-06T14:20:55.281-06:00Post-Mormon Forgiveness<span style="font-size: large;"> Growing up Mormon, there were a lot of stories about forgiveness. In many of the stories, the happy ending involved the wronged party forgiving the perpetrator, with everyone living happily ever after. As with many of the other moralistic stories I grew up with, these narratives now strike me as being highly contorted and artificial. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"> I should say that I do believe in forgiveness. However, I feel like the forgiveness narratives that I grew up with ended up putting too much pressure on the victim to forgive the perpetrator, in many situations at the cost of the victim. Nowadays, my views on forgiveness are very different. In an ideal world, people learn from mistakes. They grow up, move on, and in the process, become a better and wiser person. However, this world is far from ideal and the reality is that many people just don’t change. Either way, the past can never be undone. As a result, I am much more careful about who I forgive and who I choose to trust. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"> Two and a half years ago I was hit by a car while walking to school. The driver was an elderly man who hit three pedestrians. This accident was, in so many ways, the result of negligence on the part of the driver – I just had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Unfortunately, this twist of fate ended up derailing my life in ways both physical and emotional. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"> And so that brings me to an issue of forgiveness. In this particular case, what does forgiveness look like? The truth is, I don’t harbor a whole lot of ill-will towards the driver. I hope that he understands the impact of what he did. I also sincerely hope that he never drives again. But the attitude and actions of the driver is outside my control. I am no longer seeking an external form of forgiveness. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"> If I wanted, I could have reached out to the driver. After the accident, I was given the driver’s information, including his home address. I suppose, if I wanted to, I could have arranged to meet him. But the simple truth is: I don’t want to meet the driver. Perhaps he feels sorry for what he did. Perhaps he doesn’t. Perhaps he has stopped driving. Perhaps he hasn’t. Either way, I have had to struggle with the consequences of this driver’s mistake. As a result, I just don’t want to depend on someone else’s actions in order to move on. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"> I hope that the driver is doing well. I hope that he can forgive himself. But that is his own personal journey, not mine.</span>postmormongirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455759739126093761noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7318606957645672999.post-33583027540219125502013-07-15T19:40:00.002-06:002013-07-15T19:40:34.068-06:00Blessed Language<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“We’ve been pretty blessed.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> On the
way home from a writer’s workshop in New York, the first leg of my trip found
me sitting next to a couple with a small baby.
I started talking to them, mostly because I figured that when the baby
started crying (which they almost always do on plane flights), having a face
and a story to the crying would help alleviate my impatience. So I struck up a conversation with the couple, who looked
to be in their mid to late twenties and had the exhausted yet happy look of new
parents. I asked if their daughter was
sleeping through the night yet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The wife’s reply was “We’ve been
pretty blessed – she’s been sleeping well from the first month.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> The use
of the word “blessed” stuck in my mind.
It’s not a word I use much anymore, although at one time it was.
Time was when I would talk about being
“blessed”, as though whatever happened in my life was a gift from someone. Nowadays, my word choice includes terms like
“fortunate” and “lucky.” A small change
– and not a very noticeable one – but still a change. As my life has slanted towards secularism, I
find myself using fewer and fewer of the terms associated with religious
belief. Perhaps this change in
vocabulary reflects a change in thinking or perhaps it just reflects the fact
that I don’t spend much time in church anymore.
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<span style="font-size: large;">However, all of this got me
thinking about some of the smaller marks that we carry with us. In this case, the mark of language: the words
that we use every day that often give indicators as to who we are and what we
do. For example – I have a background in
developmental biology. As a result, many
of my word choices are a reflection of this training. When I talk about terms like fate, lineage,
and specification, I am thinking of some very specific processes that happen
during the development of an organism, rather than some of the broader definitions
used by society at large. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Has anyone else noticed a shift in
language as your life – and environment – has changed?</span><o:p></o:p></div>
postmormongirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455759739126093761noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7318606957645672999.post-18733379752538115042013-07-07T08:45:00.004-06:002013-07-07T08:47:28.872-06:00The Economics of Ex-Mormons Speaking Out<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Blogger has an analytics section that
tracks how people find this particular blog.
As a numbers/factoid geek, I like to keep an eye on these statistics. Most of what I see is not surprising – most
of the hits from this website are coming from ex-Mormon community forums. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Other people find this blog through
web-engine search queries. The top
search term that brings people to this blog is the search phrase “ex Mormons speak
out”, followed by “feminist Mormon housewives”, and, more recently, the search
term “ex Mormon blogs”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> A
couple months ago, I noticed that I was getting a lot of hits from a particular
website called <a href="http://semrush.com/">semrush.com</a> As far as I
can tell, this is a site that runs analytics on websites, positioning themselves
as a way to keep track of the competition.
If you type in the address of a specific blog/website, you can access data
on the search engine queries that bring in traffic. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Being the inquisitive person that I
am, I typed in my domain – <a href="http://postmormongirl.blogspot.com/">postmormongirl.blogspot.com</a> The results were both a surprise and not a
surprise. The top search queries that
bring people to my blog are terms like “ex Mormon blogs”, “ex Mormons speak out”,
“feminist Mormon housewives”, and “post Mormon”. No surprise there. According to this website, last month there
were 206 entry points into this blog from search engine queries alone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">But the surprising – and perhaps
not so surprising – result was the amount of money spent on advertising for
these search queries. Every time you
type a search query into Google, at the very top of the page is a yellow box with
links inside. These are the paid
advertisements. Depending on the specific
search term, companies can either pay a little or a lot of money to have their
links appear in that little yellow box. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">If I were to pay advertising fees in order to get those 206 entry points from search engine queries, the price-tag for that was quoted as $658. That is a lot of money. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">At first, that
number shocked me. Then I thought about
it and I realized that the top search queries that bring people to this blog are search terms like “ex Mormons
speak out” and “ex Mormon blogs”. Those are
pretty loaded search queries. There is also
a very well-financed organization that really doesn’t want people thinking
along those lines and is willing to pay a lot of money in order to put up competing links. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">What is the specific price of these advertisements? The price for advertising on google through
the search query “feminist Mormon housewives” is actually pretty low – only
$0.10 per click. On the other hand, the
price-per-click for “ex Mormons speak out” – which is the number one search
query that brings people to this blog – is quoted as $9.39. The advertising rate for “ex Mormon blogs” is
a staggering $11.44 per click, while “post Mormon” is a more modest $8.56 per
click. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I guess I was both surprised and not
surprised by these results. On some
level, I knew that advertising, especially advertising for ex-Mormon related
search queries, was probably coming at a stiff price. I just never realized how stiff of a price it
is. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Looking at these results – at the
sheer amount of money that is spent on pulling people away from my blog – I can’t
help but think about the strange symbiosis that is going on here. Friends and family members that I grew up with are
paying tithing money into a system that is then turning around and running a
heavily-financed advertising campaign that is, in part, paying a lot of money
in order to cover up the results of search queries such as “ex Mormons speak
out”, “post Mormon”, and “ex Mormon blogs”. It's enough to make my head explode. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Are my stories really that
worrisome? </span><o:p></o:p></div>
postmormongirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13455759739126093761noreply@blogger.com12