Not A Memoir - Good Girl

I grew up a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.

I know. It’s a mouthful. Hence, why most people call us ‘Mormons’ or ‘LDS.’ 

If you’re not familiar with the religion, here’s the gist: 

• Classic high-demand religion, think rules on rules on rules

• Very tight knit communities, wary of members being influenced by the Big, Bad World

• Fundamentally Christian, with some mythological twists

• Has a pretty nasty history that’s been purposefully erased until very recently 

• Patriarchy. Duh. 

• Very white, very straight

• Very convinced that being Mormon == being happier than everyone else

Really, it’s pretty similar to most organized religions I’m familiar with. But of course, it’s the One True Religion. Just like all the rest. 

I was born into it, since both my parents were members. My mom’s family converted when she was a child, and my dad converted after he married her. And so I was, as the Mormons say, born into the covenant. 

Aka, I never stood a chance. 

Like most Mormon girls, I was a Good Girl. You kinda have to be. If you’re different, there’s a lot of social pressure to get in line, or basically be socially ostracized. I watched it happen, I was even guilty of it. Girls whose only crime was that their parents didn’t make them go to church as often as us, or let them get away with wearing bikinis were firmly on the outside. 

Oh, people will swear it’s not true. “We always invited them to our activities!” and “We had entire meetings about how to make these girls feel welcome!” And while all of that is technically true, it was steeped in patronization, condescension, and a not-subtle desire to make them act like the rest of us. 

Afterall, doing all the Mormon things makes anyone happier. And we just wanted these girls to be happy. 

So, I was a good girl. There wasn’t really another option. 

But despite always trying to fit in, I was never quite successful.