Election Day 2008: Politics, Religion, & Family

          The night of Election Day, 2008, I found myself in the library writing a paper.  Genetics lab – and the fly report – is infamous at Cornell, the bane of many aspiring biologists.  As it turned out, this report was due the day after Election Day.  The morning of Election Day, I woke up early, rode the bus to the local town hall, entered the red-curtained booth, pulled the lever for my choice in candidates, and then headed back to the library to write my report.  I worked late into the night; I could hear the cheers outside the window as I alternated between writing about fly genetics and checking CNN every half hour for election updates.  I finished my fly report a few hours after the race was called and then crashed on the couch at lab for a few hours of shut-eye.  I was both thrilled with the Obama victory and exhausted from the demands of a heavy course-load.  I fell asleep dreaming of a better tomorrow.   

          The next day, as I headed to class wearing the rumpled clothing from the previous day, I started hearing murmurs about a Proposition 8 that had been passed in California.  I was confused about what Prop 8 was – something to do with gay marriage.  Since it was a California initiative, I assumed the proposition was in support of gay marriage.  I had been so focused on the presidential election that I did not stop to think about what else was going on in the rest of the country.  But, as I later found out, Proposition 8 was not in support of gay marriage; it was a ban against gay marriage.

          A little while later, I began hearing about the Mormons and the role they played in getting Prop 8 passed.  There are no words to describe my devastation when I found out that the religion I was raised in – and that my family actively supports – had invested so much time and energy into stripping human beings of their right to marry.   Before Election Day 2008, Mormonism had been a part of my past, an identity that infused my up-bringing and had been responsible for shaping my character.  I had complicated feelings about the culture and the authorities but Mormonism was simply a quirky part of my up-bringing.  My identity as an agnostic humanist is owed, in part, to the rigor associated with leaving Mormonism.     

          After Election Day 2008, my relationship with Mormonism became much more complicated.  There is no way to sugar-coat this issue - I became ashamed of my up-bringing, of my family's association with a religion that had actively campaigned to remove the rights of both friends and acquaintances.   With that initial flush of shame set in an even deeper shame; how could I be ashamed of the religion that my family loves so much?  Pre-Prop-8, I had made a tenuous peace with Mormonism.  Post-Prop-8, I found myself battling hurt and anger all over again.   

There is a long history of homophobia within the Mormon Church; Boyd K. Packer, one of the most out-spoken authorities on homosexuality, is next in line to become the President of the Mormon Church.  In 2010, Boyd K. Packer, in a telecast watched by Mormons the world over, said "Some suppose that they were pre-set and cannot overcome what they feel are inborn tendencies toward the impure and unnatural. Not so! Why would our Heavenly Father do that to anyone?”* Should the current leader, Thomas S. Monson, die, Boyd K. Packer will assume leadership of the Mormon Church and be seen as a modern-day prophet, with the power to commune with God and receive revelation for the Mormon Church at large.  Last month, in another world-wide televised broadcast, the General Authority Dallin H. Oaks gave a speech titled “Protect the Children”, the topic of which was the danger of single-parent homes.  Following his descriptions of the dangers associated with children growing up without married parents, he proceeded to state “We should assume the same disadvantages for children raised by couples of the same gender.”  

The Mormon Church’s stance on homosexuality – along with their actions to actively suppress the rights of gays and lesbians – is heart-breaking.  At this point in time, gay Mormons only have a limited set of options - mixed-orientation heterosexual marriage, celibacy, or leaving the faith they were raised to believe in.  All of these are heart-breaking options. 

The truth is, I struggle to balance the love I have for my family with my concerns about the teachings of Mormonism. I am uncomfortable with prevalent insularity of Mormon culture, the active hostility towards members who leave, and the swift punishment that is meted out to members who express views that are not in alignment with the teachings of authorities.  As a former Mormon with a devout Mormon family, I find myself in a tenuous position.  How do I balance my two worlds?  How do I reconcile the love I have for my family – for whom Mormonism is both an identity and a way of life - with my deep unease over the intolerant actions of Mormon authorities?  With every piece of writing, every conversation, I find myself walking a fine line, one that carries the constant risk of falling.  How do I balance my own personal convictions with the convictions of my family? 

I love my Mormon family but according to Mormon theology, I have thrown away my chances of being with them for eternity.  To my family, the most hurtful part of my apostasy must be the simple fact that I will no longer be with them for eternity.  The obligations of Mormonism that consume their lives are no longer part of my world-view; I am no longer on the path to an eternity spent with my family, in spite of the fact that I was raised with a full knowledge of the obligations that the Mormon Heavenly Father expects of me.  I am unable to grasp the concept of a loving God who requires rituals and a belief in a specific theology as a requirement to enter Heaven.  

Heartbreak is found on both sides of the divide between Mormons and former Mormons.  

Another Election Day is approaching, historic for the fact that the Republican nominee is a devout Mormon.  Once again, I find myself wondering what impact the future will have on my relationship with my family and my up-bringing.  I have been watching this Mormon moment, wondering what impact politics and religion will have on the relationships between faithful members and former members.  The MormonThink controversy has reminded me of the omniscience of the Mormon authorities and their willingness to suppress any truths that threaten the church’s image.  I wonder what will happen when the eyes of the media are diverted from the actions of the Mormon Church.  Will the actions of the Mormon Church cause a further rift between faithful Mormons and non-believer family members  or will the Mormon authorities work to create long-lasting changes for a more tolerant future?  

*Note: The transcript for Boyd K. Packer's speech was later amended following a public outcry.  For that reason, I referred you to the original video of his speech; for a more detailed explanation of the changes made, I refer you to this article written by a gay-rights website.  

Partisanship

          We live in an era that is becoming more and more partisan by the day.  I am still young - perhaps this has always been the case.  All I know is that since I have reached adulthood, I have been watching this country slide into an us-vs-them mentality.  Liberals versus conservatives.  Christian versus non-Christian.  Theists versus non-theists.  Evolution versus creationism.  Citizens versus immigrants.  
          What troubles me the most is that people seem to accept these divisions as inevitable.  I acknowledge that working together in spite of differences is challenging.  I have strong opinions on many issues - in general I am quite liberal.  I support access to contraceptives, health-care reform that allows uninsured people with pre-existing conditions to obtain affordable insurance, increased funding for education, and the continuation of public programs that support people who are in tough circumstances.  At some point in our lives, we all need a helping hand, whether it be in the form of education grants, food stamps, unemployment benefits, social security benefits, or a myriad of other public services.  As valuable as private charities are in providing aid, these services have limitations - limited funding and geographic availability being the two main drawbacks.  
         I don't know what the future will hold but I do know that this election is making me very uncomfortable.  I have watched Mitt Romney change positions with an alarming regularity; his only consistency seems to be that he is inconsistent.  What worries me even more than his inconsistency seems to be the fact that his tactic is working.  What does this say about our society - that it is OK to change positions depending on the audience?  My only wish is that I knew what Mitt Romney believed in.  
          Obama isn't a perfect candidate.  But overall, he has consistently espoused values that I believe in.  He has worked to reform healthcare, to pass laws that provide a path to citizenship for the  undocumented youth in this country.  He has worked to increase funding for research and come out in support of gay marriage.  He signed the Lilly Ledbetter Act into law, which provides women with more options for fighting pay discrimination.  Even more than that, he has shown a willingness to work with the other side.  I am tired of watching ideologies and in-fighting stand in the way of practical solutions for this country.  From what I have seen over the past four years, he is a person who is working to make a better life for everyone in this country.  My vote for Obama - which I cast yesterday - was in support of what he has achieved as president, as well as the values he espouses.  
          I had hoped this election would be about the issues.  Instead, this election has been more about sound-bites and zingers.  In Mitt Romney, I don't see a candidate that understands the issues of low-to-middle income families.  He doesn't seem to understand what it is like to worry about paying for college or the challenges of finding a job without having connections or the challenges of finding affordable health insurance.  He doesn't seem to understand the value of public services that help people in need.  I have a huge respect for the private sector.  However, the private sector is a profit-driven enterprise and with this comes certain limitations.  I do not think disaster relief or educational enterprises (including public programming) are suited to the private sector.  Given the staggering costs of health-care in this country - which is primarily a private-sector enterprise - I no longer think that health-insurance companies should be a profit-driven venture. 
          To quote Jon Huntsman Jr, "When was the last time we sat down as a people and talked about solutions?"  

Hurricane Sandy

          I just wanted to take the time to offer my condolences to those who are dealing with Hurricane Sandy.  I grew up in the Northeast; many of my friends and family are still in the region.  From what I can gather, they are all safe, although there has been quite a bit of flooding and power outages.  I am also grateful to see our politicians laying aside their campaigning to deal with this disaster, as this is an issue that transcends partisanship.  
          If you want to help out with disaster relief - either by donating time, money, or blood - the Red Cross is a good resource.  Anne-Marie, over at the blog "The Menacing Kitten", also offers some excellent tips for donating in the wake of a disaster.   

The American Dream And Mormonism

          The American dream – or at least, my interpretation of the American dream – is that if a person works hard enough, then that work will lead them to a better life. And by that standard, Mormonism is intrinsically American. I grew up with the idea that if I worked hard enough, then the blessings of Heaven were available to me. I grew up in a religion that placed an emphasis on good works and deeds. An oft-quoted scripture verse during my childhood, taken out of the Book of Mormon, was the verse 3 Nephi 12:16

          Therefore let your light so shine before this people, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father who is in heaven

          Within the Mormon faith, good works have adopted a very standard definition. As a teenager, good works meant following the Word of Wisdom, obeying the morality guidelines, and participating in all of the activities expected of the youth. As a teenager, I worked on projects for the Young Womens’ association, I attended a daily scripture study in the hour before school started, and I attended weekly youth activities. As a girl, my life’s path was drawn out for me – marriage in the temple to a worthy Mormon male, child-rearing, home-making, church callings, and regular worship. All of the lessons in church prepared me for the future I was expected to take up. The men also had parallel lives sketched out for them – college, full-time missionary work, marriage, church callings, career, and the day-to-day demands of Mormonism. When Mormons grow into adulthood, the idea of good works is expanded to include temple marriage, family, church callings, and tithing. When Mormons go through their endowment ceremony – an expected rite of passage – they swear an oath to consecrate everything to the Lord.
          The good works portion of Mormonism is time-consuming, more so than many people realize. Positions within the Mormon Church are staffed almost exclusively by volunteers, all of whom have their day jobs to perform. In addition to their volunteer work, members are expected to tithe 10% of their income, perform regular temple work, raise large families, pray and read their scriptures regularly, and attend a variety of church activities. In return for fulfilling all of these obligations, the leaders have promised many blessings. Growing up, my elders taught me that the only road to true happiness was found within the Mormon Church.
          There is both beauty and virtue in hard work. Hard work has led me to accomplish many things in my life. However, hard work cannot fix everything - hard work cannot change the fundamentals of a person’s personality or undo the random variations of luck. And sometimes, what is considered as broken is not, in fact, anything that needs to be changed. I grew up with the sense that I was flawed, simply because I did not conform to the ideals of Mormon womanhood. I was not gentle or motherly or sympathetic or good with household duties. The thought of a lifetime of homemaking and rearing a huge family filled me a sense of helpless terror. I did not possess any of the traits that were expected of a good virtuous Mormon girl. 

          The fact that I did not conform to the ideals of Mormonism meant that I grew up thinking that there was something fundamentally wrong with me. I tried to be faithful, to prepare myself for a future that did not fit who I was but that I was assured was God’s plan for me. I acknowledge that I have many flaws; I am stubborn and oblivious to the social cues that other people navigate with ease. But working to change the fundamentals of my personality – the part of me that sensed that the future sketched out for me by my religious leaders was not the right future for me – is a battle that is both futile and unnecessary.

The Great Unknown

                       It is said that –
                       Enlightenment appears dark
                       The progressive way appears retrograde
                       The smooth way appears jagged
                       The highest peak of revelation appears empty 
                         like a valley
                       The cleanest appears to be soiled
                       The greatest abundance appears to be 
                            insufficient
                       The most enduring inner strength appears like 
                            weakness                         
                       And creativity appears imitative

                                    Excerpt, Verse 41, 
                                    Tao Te Ching by Lao Tzu

          Sometimes, action requires heading into the great unknown, with no idea of what the outcome is.  I am the type of person that likes to think and research my decisions, making careful plans as to what my next course of action will be.  But there will always come a time when no amount of planning prepares you for what life throws at you.  As a young teenager, I never intended to leave the Mormon Church.  Then my questions started heading down a strange path, one that was both frightening and freeing, all at once.  Now, ten years and one major auto-pedestrian accident later, I am preparing to head down another unknown path, one that involves a career change and graduate school in an alternate subject.  I don’t know where this path will lead me.  But sometimes, when all the research is done, all of the questions answered, the only course of action left is to jump into the unknown, with the hope that everything will turn out all right in the end.

Grieving The Loss Of Community And Trust

                I lost my faith when I was sixteen.  I lived in secret for a full year, afraid of the consequences of leaving.  When I did muster the courage to leave Mormonism, the fall-out was even worse than I feared.  The activities and obligations of Mormonism are all-consuming; between the restrictions that publicly marked me as Mormon and the time-intensive church activities, Mormonism was an identity, a community, and a way of life.  Where I grew up, Mormons were a minority; at school, I was the non-drinking, non-swearing Mormon girl who woke up at 5:30 every morning to attend an early-morning seminary class.

                Then I left and the community I was raised in crumbled around me.  I grew up with Mormons; they were my family friends, my school-mates and comrades.  I saw them on a daily or weekly basis; we shared the common bond of being a minority group.  I knew that leaving would cause a rift but little did I know just how much.  My conversations with people I had known for a lifetime suddenly became missionary-based.  In spite of a lifetime of faithful church attendance – and being respected as a good teenager – the conversations became about assessing my level of knowledge and my worthiness.  The perception is that members only leave because they are sinful, prideful, deluded by Satan, or ignorant of the Gospel.  After leaving, the questions I was asked indicated that members were trying to assess which category I fit into.  I was never asked my reasons for leaving; I was merely asked to come back into the fold.  

                Sometimes I miss being a part of a community.  Mormonism, for all of its flaws, has the benefit of being a strong community.  Members look after each other; if someone is in trouble, people will volunteer their time and effort to help out.  When my brother was building a house, the missionaries and members were there every Saturday, volunteering their time to help out.  I have seen my brothers volunteer their time to help members move.  I have a lot of respect for the hard-work and dedication of Mormons. 

But leaving – and dealing with the associated consequences – has left me with a slew of trust issues.  I never dreamed that I would lose lifelong relationships so quickly after leaving.  I never dreamed that the people who had known me a life-time would make such quick assumptions about my character, simply because I left.  I never dreamed that I would lose the respect of my parents so quickly, in spite of an abundance of evidence that indicated I was a good kid.  Mormonism is an all-consuming identity; you are either all-in or all-out.  Issues are phrased in black and white – you are either pro-Mormon or anti-Mormon.  By crossing that divide, I was forced to abandon Mormonism altogether.  This experience has left me skittish about communities at large.  Perhaps this fear is logical.  Perhaps it isn’t.  Either way, the fear is still there. 

There is a grieving process associated with losing a community.  At first I was angry.  On some level, I still am, as Mormon teachings have an “us versus them” mentality that makes interfaith relationships tricky, if not impossible.  But most of all, I am sad.  I am sad that I no longer have anything in common with the people I grew up with.  I grieve that there is a divide between us that I cannot cross.  

Perfect Mormon Girl

          When I was nine years old, I had a friend named Laura.*  Laura was a year older than I was; her parents were friends with mine. Between church and ward activities, Laura and I were thrown together a lot. I worshiped Laura; she was a year older than me, which to a nine-year old meant that she was wiser. She had silky brown hair, clear skin, and was very attentive about her clothing - boys and adults alike seemed to like her. Laura graced me with her friendship and I responded eagerly. We would skip sacrament meeting together and wander the halls to talk. She was a boy-crazy girl; most of our conversations were centered around the boys that she liked and her philosophy on life. 
          In hindsight, I now recognize our friendship to be toxic. Laura was older, yes. She was pretty, yes. But she was also extremely insecure. She needed someone to make her feel good about herself. As a shy, chubby girl with hero-worship shining in her eyes, I fit the ticket. Anything I would do, Laura would claim to have done better. If I was excited about getting an A on a test, then she would tell me about the A+ she had gotten on her latest test. If I swam a lap in sixty seconds, she would say she swam it in thirty. I say ‘claim’ because there was never any evidence that she was telling the truth. At that age, however, I lacked the cynicism to challenge her assertions. 
          Laura moved away the following year. Years later I met Laura again only to find her exactly the same as before. We met up at her parent’s house in Utah. Laura had married at seventeen, to a guy in the Army. She had a young child. She showed me picture after picture of her husband, trying to impress upon me just how wonderful he was. After saying hello to her family, we left to go visit some of her friends. 
          Once we were in the car, Laura said “OK, I have to ask before we do anything. Do you still go to church?”
          "No, I haven't gone in years." I said. 
          “Oh good.” she said. “We can have fun then.”
          “Why did you stop going?” I asked.
          “It was too hard.” she said. “I just couldn’t be the perfect Mormon girl.”
          And for a moment, I understood her completely.

*name has been changed