Not A Memoir - Put It On The Shelf

“The Shelf” is a widely used metaphor in Mormonism. Whenever you can’t reconcile an uncomfortable piece of Mormon history, practices, doctrine, etc, you’re supposed to imagine taking that thing, going to an out of the way corner of your mind, and putting that thing on a bookshelf. 

It’s basically like putting that thing aside to ask God about ... later. After you’re dead. When it no longer matters anymore. 

No, you’re not pretending that Jospeh Smith didn’t send men across the world for years at a time so he could steal their wives. 

No, you’re not pretending the Church leadership doesn’t ignore the suicides of LGBTQ+ individuals in their congregations and universities because ‘being gay is bad.’ 

No, you’re not pretending that the Church didn’t take your tithing and invest it, hiding it away in layers and layers of shell companies to avoid paying taxes and doing actual good things with it. 

You’re not denying anything. 

You’re just ... putting it on The Shelf. 

Behold! You have been cured of cognitive dissonance! 

One of the first things I remember having to put on The Shelf was the Church’s rejection of LGBTQ+ people. 

I met my best friend on the first day of seventh grade. I was coming back to public school after doing virtual school the year before. I was terrified, overwhelmed, and extremely socially awkward. 

Yes, I was that kid, reading the scriptions on her phone at the bus stop. 

Thankfully, I wasn’t the only new kid. In the neighborhood across from mine, a family had just moved in from Arizona, and their oldest daughter was in my homeroom class. 

That first day, we realized we both loved the book Graceling by Kristin Cashore, and we have been best friends ever since. 

Seriously, we ended up rooming together all through college. We’ve been friends for nearly thirteen years, and I can’t imagine my life without her. 

In seventh or eighth grade, we were sitting together on the bus for a choir trip. She takes out her phone, types something out, and hands it to me. 

I’m bi, it says. 

Little middle school, Mormon me wasn’t sure how to react. I knew theoretically about bisexuality, but I’d never met anyone bi. I did know that the Church said it was a sin. But ... this was my best friend. 

I looked from the phone, back up to her, and said, 

“Cool.” 

And that was that. 

I talked to my parents about it later, and they told me I can disagree with her lifestyle, but still be her friend. Hate the sin, love the sinner, ya know? 

That was fine with me. I didn’t see what her sexuality had to do with me. Why should I care if she was gay, straight, bi, whatever? I couldn’t be, because Mormonism doesn’t allow it, but she’s not Mormon, so why does it matter? 

I’d quickly come to learn that even though the Church talks a good talk about agency, about letting people do what they want, about everyone having choices, they didn’t really mean it. 

Mormonism, like your favorite MLM, is all about recruitment. (There’s actually a huge intersection between Mormonism and MLMs ... it’s interesting, you should check it out.) 

Like most religions, Mormons believe that everyone should be Mormon. They’ll try to convert you while you’re alive, and if you say no, they’ll just do it once you’re dead. 

I’m not kidding. 

There’s an entire process called Baptism of the Dead, where 12-18 year olds go to the Mormon temples and go through the whole baptism process, just replace their actual name with a dead person’s name. 

Unsurprisingly, there have actually been a lot of issues with this practice, including the post-mortem baptisms of Jews who died in the concentration camps during World War II. 

So, no, the LDS Church does not respect your right to live how you want, despite their own Article of Faith 11: 

We claim the privilege of worshiping Almighty God according to the dictates of our own conscience, and allow all men the same privilege, let them worship how, where, or what they may. 

I think that one tends to be overwritten by Article of Faith 3: 

We believe that through the Atonement of Christ, all mankind may be saved, by obedience to the laws and ordinances of the Gospel.

And when I say the Church fights against LGBTQ+ rights, I don’t just mean for its own members. I mean for everyone. They have repeatedly gone out of their way to enforce their beliefs on people who have never set foot in a chapel.

Case in point: Proposition 8 in California, 2008.

This was a statewide ballot initiative that aimed to ban same-sex marriage in the California constitution. It wasn’t a Church policy. It wasn’t about members. It was civil law. And the LDS Church went all in.

They didn’t just quietly donate. They mobilized an army. Bishops read letters over the pulpit. Members were pressured to donate money, time, and labor. Volunteers went door to door. Families were told that protecting “traditional marriage” was a spiritual obligation. Members in California were tracked. Pledges were followed up on. And all of it was cloaked in religious language that made it sound like God himself was running a PAC.

It worked—for a while. Proposition 8 passed. Same-sex marriage was banned.

And the Church celebrated.

Never mind the thousands of LGBTQ+ Californians—some of them Mormon—who now saw their legal rights and dignity stripped away. Never mind the teen suicides that followed. Never mind the relationships that shattered, the families that fractured, the trust that never recovered.

They had won.

Except they hadn’t. The courts overturned Prop 8 a few years later, and the tide turned. But the damage was already done.

And that wasn’t the end of it. Since then, the Church has continued to:

• File amicus briefs in U.S. court cases to oppose same-sex marriage, adoption rights, and civil protections.

  
  

• Lobby lawmakers for “religious freedom” carve-outs that would allow them to discriminate without consequence.

  
  

• Partner with international religious coalitions to block LGBTQ+ rights globally, often in the shadows.

  
  

All while claiming that they “love everyone.”

They love you. They just want you to be celibate for life. Or married to someone you’re not attracted to. Or quietly erased. Or legislated out of basic rights. Out of existence.

I know, I know—they say it’s about God’s plan. About defending the family. About religious liberty.

But when your freedom comes at the cost of someone else’s humanity? That’s not liberty. That’s tyranny with a hymnbook.

So when my best friend told me she was bi, I had to put God’s rejection of gay people on The Shelf. And that was just the beginning. 

Why didn’t God let Black men have the same priesthood authority as white men until 1978? Put it on The Shelf. 

Why are women not allowed to have the priesthood? To The Shelf!

Why can’t women wear pants at church? (Seriously, there was an entire movement to finally allow women to wear pants if they want to.) Gotta make some room on The Shelf, at this point.

Why did we stuff our Shelves full of all our doubts and irreconcilable questions? Because the rewards would be worth it, we were told. You just need your Shelf to carry it all long enough to claim them, and pray it doesn’t break.