Theist's Risk

Theist’s Risk

To worship quick the faulted sound

The loud and calling voice

The empty vow of joy to find

In places boasting choice

While seems to lack a truth therein

Those dazzling hands bear lies

“Put out the thought of other means

Embrace what God designs”

In doing thus, lose more than self

Lose freedom, life and this

Becomes the mourner’s quiet knell

The theist’s awful risk

The Lesson

There was a classroom, not unlike any other. It had letters upon the walls, chalkboards with echoes of lessons past, rubbed halfheartedly away. There were desks, row after row that encompassed the heart of the room, each with a little chair tucked carefully beneath. And there were two windows, bright and cheery which gave a limited view of the world outside.

            But this classroom was special; it was only occupied by one teacher, and he gave the same lesson to every student year after year after year.  Today was the beginning of a new semester and he stood in the door way, scratching his thick bearded chin, wondering how he should begin.

            Carefully, he walked past the rows of desks to the front of the room, where the large black chalk board awaited. Picking up a small fragment of chalk that had been left over from his last class, he wrote in large, bold letters “It Begins”. A few moments later, students began to enter the room, each taking a seat wherever they wanted. The teacher chuckled to himself; it’s what they always did.

            Once each seat was filled, he tapped the chalkboard with his fist to quiet the chatter.

            “Hello,” he began. “Welcome to life.” The students were clearly puzzled, so he continued. “Here we will learn all of the tools we need to either succeed, or fail. Which, my friends, will depend entirely upon you. So, let us first begin by rearranging.” He moved through the classroom, randomly moving students to different seats, without any real rhyme or reason. And once he was satisfied, he returned to the chalkboard.

            “There,” he said. “That is much better. And so, it begins. You want to pay attention, at the end of the class, there will be a reward for the students who achieve an A.”

            He taught their first lesson that day. It wasn’t anything grand, merely a small lesson about a historical figure in a land far away. Each day, he would tell them the story again, and eventually, they could repeat it back. Sometimes they questioned why they were learning about this person, sometimes they zoned out. Anytime they argued, the teacher would add a little detail here and there, and they would discuss what could be learned from the man in the story.

            Finally, the last day of the semester came. The students had been anticipating the test since day one, and each of them felt adequately prepared. And just as they expected, the teach walked through the rows of desks handing out the final exam. Then, he went to the corner of the room, sat down in a chair with a magazine, and began to read. The students flipped open the test to page one, and there wasn’t a one that didn’t let out a confused murmur.

            One girl in the front row raised her hand. “Excuse me sir, I don’t remember learning about the French Revolution.” Another student gasped.

            “My test is on advanced calculus,” he said.

            “There must be a mistake, mine is basic sentence structure,” another boy in the back said. The teacher nodded.

            “Just do your best,” he said, and went back to reading. The students shrugged, groaned, grimaced, but attacked their tests anyway. Once the class period was nearly up, the teacher went back through the room and picked up all the tests, even the ones that weren’t finished. As he went back to the front of the room, one student made an angry outburst.

            “This isn’t fair. You didn’t prepare us for the tests you gave, and no one had the same test.” The teacher turned around to address him. There was a collection of affirming murmurs throughout the room, but the teacher held up his hand to silence them.

            “Yes, but you will all be graded on a curve. There were eight different tests. If you look on the back wall, you will see a sign that has your test number, please go stand under the test you took.”

            The students all got up from their desks and sorted themselves out to their corresponding numbers.

            “Now, how many of you felt like you were familiar with the material in the test you took?” the teacher asked. A few nodded, saying they knew a thing or two. “Please divide yourselves to two additional sections in your groups, those who were familiar and those who weren’t.” The students did as he asked.

            “Now, each test group will be graded on a separate curve. And each subgroup of each test will be graded on a curve again.”

            “That’s even worse!” a young woman shouted in anger. “That means someone who knew less than me could potentially get a higher grade than me! And we weren’t even tested on material we were taught in class! Some of us didn’t know a thing, and some of us got a test as simple as 2^nd grade addition. How can you possibly grade us in this way?”

            “That’s how this class has always been taught,” the teacher answered as-a-matter-of-factly. “Now, give me a moment to calculate your scores.” The students glared and grumbled, but waited. As soon as he was finished, the teacher approached them again.

            “All of the students on the front row get an extra 10 points added to their scores, just because, and the students in the very back right corner don’t benefit from the curve,” he said. There was another angry outburst. “But even still, it looks like only Jonathan and Bernard received A’s, not necessarily of their own merit, but because I wanted them to succeed. So they will be the only two students invited to attend the end-of-semester party after school in the auditorium.”

            The same young woman burst out again. “This is ridiculous!” she thundered. “You can’t possibly suggest that the rest of us get low scores simply because you assigned us to the wrong row or we had bad luck and got tested on material we didn’t know. Did those two boys even earn their A's, or did you decide that too? How can you in good conscious do this?”

            The teacher got a knowing smile on his face. “Yes, how can I possibly hand out tests that I know 99% of you will fail? And then how can I fairly grade you when I gave different tests to each student, knowing full well if you were familiar or not with the material? How can I give these students more points because they sat in a certain seat and I was the one to arrange it? How can I reward any of you, or punish any of you? It is incredibly unfair, isn’t it?” The room was silent. “Do you see what I mean?”

            The young woman touched the sacred emblem hanging around her neck, a sullen look spreading across her face. “I think I do sir,” she said, lowering her head in a defeated silence. Each of them left the room, considering more than they ever had before, as Jonathan and Bernard were the only two to enjoy the end of the semester party.

You see me differently now

You see me differently now.

I'm not the same. You used to have such high expectations. You used to have hopes and dreams for me. I could do anything you thought. I was kind. I was faithful. I had a special purpose.

You used to look at me differently. Talk to me differently. Your voice was full of happiness when we spoke. You used to laugh. You were excited to see me. You wanted to share things with me.

Things are different now.

You don't see me the way you used to. I'm damaged. I'm afraid. I gave up a part of myself. I lost my way.

You pity me. You feel bad for me. You think I've made bad choices. You think I've fallen away. You believe I have no morals, that my life is something to be feared. That you should distance yourself from me because I am a bad example, or that I send the spirit away.

You don't share things with me that you consider important. You won't share things you consider sacred. You speak to me in limited conversations, about shopping or the weather. Nothing truly important. You lament about me to people you know.

You don't call me anymore. And you don't call me back either. You are ashamed. You wonder, what did you do wrong? Is this punishment? Were you more faithful, would I have been spared? You think of me as a sign of the times, proof that there is a God and that there is a devil. You think I have been seduced by the world. You don't take pride in the things I do anymore, not the way you used to, because I do them without god.

You worry about me. You think I'm in constant danger because I am godless. You think I will succumb to the smallest of worldly temptations. You think I am a bad influence.

You wonder what horrible thing happened in my life to send me down this path. You wonder why I gave in instead of turning to god. You pray for me. But you avoid me. I'm not the same. You see me so differently now.

Because I left the Mormon church. Because I am now an atheist.

You are right. I am different. But I'm still me. I still have brown hair and brown eyes. I still get goosebumps every time I listen to music by James Horner. I still love to read Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter. I still decorate my house with reindeer and garland at Christmas. I still love to take pictures of my kids. I still believe in being loyal to my husband. I still think smoking and illegal drugs are bad. I'm still me. You can still have hopes for me, you can still have expectations for my success. You can still take pride in my accomplishments, you can still think I'm a good person.

Don't push me away because I don't believe in your god anymore. And please don't pity me and wonder what went wrong. Because I don't see it that way. And it makes me so sad when I think you pity my life. I have a beautiful life. Its not perfect, but neither is yours. I live as authentically as I can. I don't hide my feelings, or my ideas. I don't suppress my questions anymore. I don't live a lie, which is what I was living before. I feel happy. I feel free. So don't feel sorry for me.

Please accept me, because I accept you. I don't agree with you, and I am sad when I see how religion is harmful to people I love, especially when it causes them to judge me for not living it anymore. But I don't want to push you away. I want to share my ideas the same way you want to share yours, and with just as much passion. And life is more valuable to me now because I don't think there is anything after we die. I want to make the most of the time I have with you now, rather than putting you aside until after death. Because I know that has crossed your mind. That I will know its all true when I'm dead and you can reconnect with me then. I know you've thought of it, because I once thought it too.

I am different. But I am still me. Love me for who I am, and I will love you for who you are. I don't love religion, but I love you. And that is more important to me than anyone who would tell me to keep my distance because we think differently.

When the fire is lit, it's hard to stop

I was cleaning out my basement after a run in with a vile little vermin that had pooped all over and chewed up my linens. The miserable little thing died in a 5 gallon buck in my garage because my husband and I both lacked the nerve to end it. But it did leave me with a big mess to clean.

While cleaning, I was sorting through things on the shelves to put in tupperware boxes, hopefully to keep further offenders off. And I found a sleeping bag bag with my husband's old temple clothes. I have a big green box for all of the church stuff, and got it out to put the temple clothes away. IN the box I found my old scriptures, letters from my mom and sister, magazines, pictures, and a letter I had written but never sent to President Eyring.

A lot of these items represented a very troubling time in my life. At this point I don't think I'd have any second thoughts to setting the box on fire. But when I began filling it, my superstitions were still very strong. My parents went into panic mode when they noticed, and I received letters, envelops and packages almost every other week containing church materials, apologetics, images, magazines, letters of encouragement for the faith.

I prayed every single night. I fasted. I plead with that unseen being for my eternal soul and the souls of my husband and children. I never received an answer, or comfort. And the more I sought, the guiltier I felt. There was clearly something wrong with me if god was ignoring me this way. I went to church and felt hopeless, it seemed like every other lesson was about the strong sisters of the church who's husbands had fallen away, yet they remained faithful. The other half was about ignoring the temptations of the intellectual world.

I was finally called to teach in relief society, about our troubled current times. I found myself confused by the things I read and was asked to teach on Sundays. It was strange to me how closely conference talked mirrors Facebook trending articles. Instead of thinking it was inspired, I wondered if it was merely a reaction and attempt to contain members.

The fact that my  husband was nearly all the way out of the church didn't help either. I was confused. I was lost. I was caught between upholding the religion of my parents and the fact that it simply didn't make any sense. I felt like if I left, or if I even considered material that might lead to me leaving, I would be betraying their love. It was a time of harrowing guilt. I kept clinging to the promise that god would eventually reveal the truth to me. I kept waiting and praying for that day. I read my patriarchal blessing every Sunday, and reread letters from Nick while he was on his mission. I became depressed.

Finally, I decided I needed to p rove to myself that the church was true, and I was going to have to do more involved research than just reading the Book of Mormon.

I started with lds.org. I read their essays on woman, polygamy, and the blacks and the priesthood. I read passages about Emma Smith's condemnation for not accepting Joseph's plural wives. I read about god's omnipotence and wondered about free agency with a deity who already is omniscient. It made no sense.

I found myself on fair mormon. I read about the Kinderhook plates, the Book of Abraham. I read about the seer stone, and translating out of a hat. I read about Fanny Alger, and the 14 year old child bride. I read about the relief society. Finally I found the CES letter. And it changed my life.

The day I read that letter, I confessed to my husband that I had been doing research for several months. He asked if I believed in god. I said no.

That was the third time in our marriage he brought me home flowers. Which lets you know what an enormous event it was.

A fire had been lit, and I was powerless to stop it. The more I tried to prove my religion, the more I discovered how malicious and false it actually was. The more I tried to strengthen my faith, the weaker it became. The more I prayed with no answers, the more I began to understand I was simply talking to myself. The more I read about my religion's history, the more disturbed by it I was. The more I contemplated morality, objectivism, ethics, and existence, the more I began to understand how a personal god is impossible.

As I began to see more of the world, and began to understand better, I saw things in a different light. One major event for me was the outbreak of Ebola. Millions of people died. One doctor who was abroad offering aid was infected, he was brought home and he prayed. He said he prayed day and night to be spared. God answered his prayers. Why then did god ignore the pleas of the suffering children? The mothers and fathers? The lonely beggars, all bleeding and dying from that horrible virus? Why did god choose to save the wealthy doctor and not the little homeless girl?

I'll tell you why. God doesn't exist. That doctor was saved by complex medicine and skilled American physicians. That little girl died because she didn't receive proper treatment. It's simple. There is no god.

There is no god when the 5 year old boy is being raped by his ecclesiastical leader. There is no god when the wife is being hit by her husband. There is no god when the baby is born with congenital heart defects.  There is no god when the homeless man wins the lottery. There is no god when the teenage girl finds the perfect pair of shoes. There is no god when the vet saves the dog from heart worms. There is no god when you pray to know he exists.

When that fire was lit, I could not stop it. There was just too much evidence to suggest to me that my religion was false. That it was abusive. And that it had stolen thousands of dollars from me to do conceited things like build malls and mega worship centers. Over a period of two tears, I struggled. It did not happen over night. And I resisted for as long as I could, because I was scared.

I'm not scared anymore. I'm hurt, I'm sad, but I'm not longer fearful of hellish retribution by a jealous god who would rather see me rot in hell than have his name tarnished. And if he does exist, he will have to answer to millions upon millions of people who have suffered in his name. He will have to account for each murder, each rape, each child who suffocated in gas chambers. Each mother who watched her baby starve to death. He should pay.

The most likely explanation is, however, that god simply doesn't exist. And that brings me more comfort that I ever received believing that he did.

I Believe Religious Indoctrination of Children is Abusive

As I've pondered how religion is perpetuated, I've done a lot of thinking about what it would take to stop.

I think humanity is inherently "spiritual": affected by its surroundings in otherwise unexplainable ways, and intimately connected to living things. We define spirituality in terms of superstition, goose bumps and familiarity. We get chills when something moves us, we yearn to have and serve a purpose. We are motivated by rewards.

Humanity is set up to fall under the spell of religious superstition. Perhaps it is merely a biological construct that was advantageous early in our evolution and has now become so engrained in our genetic code its difficult to escape. As as we teach it to our children from birth, they grow up programmed into the religion of their fathers and perpetuate it into the next generation.

Religion survives because we indoctrinate children.

I knew god existed when I was a child. There was no alternative. It was what I was taught to believe from birth. Anytime my theology would be contended, by friends or acquaintances, there was nothing they could say that would convince me god didn't exist. It was so engrained in my mind, and there was never an alternative presented. I didn't know any different. I couldn't fathom how anyone could live a godless life when I saw him in everything.

But I was conditioned to see him in everything. With no prior disposition to deity, I would never have looked at a sunset and thought of a god. Because I would have no reference to assume the sunset denoted a god. I would merely see a sunset. A Jehovahs' Witness member tried to contend this very point with me when, pointing at my house, asked me if I had seen my house built. I told him no. And he said, so it is with god and the sunset. I asked him, sir, have you ever seen a house being built? He said yes. So then I asked, have you ever seen god make the sun set? He said he had. I asked him how this was possible. He said because he knew god was the creator and so he saw god in the sunset. I tried to explain how his example failed, because we have evidence of home builders building homes yet no evidence of god making sunsets. We do know that the earth rotates and revolves around the sun, which creates the sunset. But he thought I was crazy.

Pretend for a moment, you are a child. And you have never seen a house being built. You could sit in the driveway for days staring at the house, never knowing how it came to be. Perhaps you might come up with your own idea for how it happened. Maybe a Beaver made it. Perhaps you should worship the Beaver because he made you shelter. You tell your friends, Beaver is the creator of homes and deserves love and admiration. Your loving parent one day takes you to a construction site and introduces you to one of the architects. He shows you around the framework of the home he is designing and explains how homes are built. You go home, no longer needing the story of the Beaver, because now you know how homes are built.

It seems so simple. We have so many answers now for questions that originally were not understood. Humans used god to explain things they didn't understand, like the sun rising and setting, like death, like natural disasters. Humans also used gods to take advantage of the weak. The problem is, we still have so many questions that remain unanswered. There are some things we may never answer. And religion uses that to denote a god. I do not know, therefore GOD.

However, just because the child didn't know an architect was responsible for the design of his home, doesn't justify his worship of a Beaver. This example still doesn't work completely, because it assumes a creator is needed. Its something humans have a hard time grasping, things coming into existence on their own. When a tree grows, god made it grow. When a child is born, god gave that child life. How can anything happen without an instigator? A creator? something or someone in charge? They are valid questions, but filling in these gaps of existence with god does nothing to further our understanding of how our universe works. It causes complacency.

It is those who have questioned who have taken our species forward in understanding how our world works.

If we hardwired our children's brains for science instead of god, religion would die out in a mere few generations. It would be unable to survive if we didn't force it on the minds of children too young to know any different. If we gave them alternatives to god they wouldn't resort to superstition and push out reality. We do this because it was done to us, and we seek to recruit others to perpetuate the god delusion. Its taught and preached because it is part of who we are.

Leaving the religion of my parents was very difficult for me. I still have so many problems that I will deal with for the rest of my life, like being uncomfortable with alcohol, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up when I hear "oh my god". The sadness I will carry knowing I will never see my grandpa again, when I used to think I would. But we perpetuate ignorance, and condition children to love superstition and therefore we perpetuate harmful religion.

I know it may seem extreme, but keep in mind this is my opinion. Especially since I came out of such an intellectually harmful religion. To teach a child from birth that there is only one way to think, that they are inherently sinful, and that there is only one way to live, to me is child abuse. They are young and inexperienced, and have no idea that theirs is not the only religion. To me it is beyond abusive to teach a child to be subservient to an improvable entity, to trap them in a cycle of guilt, and to cause feelings of hate and intolerance to anyone who thinks differently than they do. To me it is abusive to teach girls that they are somehow eternally inferior to men, and disguise it by saying they are simply given different divine roles. To me it is abusive to teach children that their biology is something to be ashamed of and that sexuality offends this unseen deity. To me it is abusive to teach homosexual children that they are an abomination in need of being cured and saved. To me it is abusive to read a man made Bible full of stories of gods tormenting women and children, murdering babies, picking favorites, causing wars, condemning women to lives of subservience.

And I firmly believe religion would die out in a matter of decades if we stopped teaching it to our children. It wouldn't be able to survive if we didn't indoctrinate children with no prior experience to other world views. If they were educated and called upon to make the choice for themselves in their later years, I believe they wouldn't choose to serve an untenable entity that calls them a sinner simply for being human.

Why "I'll Pray for You" is Offensive and Condescending

When I saw this, scrolling through my Facebook feed, it really hit home. I've heard every one of these phrases in some form or another. And each one was offensive and mean.

Having left a very strict and overbearing religion, my escape was full with anger and judgement. Misunderstanding led to insults, fear led to character attacks. I found myself being accused of never really believing, for wanting to sin, for not having enough faith, and for needing to grow up.

No one has sat down with me to listen to why I no longer believe. No one has taken the time to really understand. They just excuse it all away, tell me they are praying for me, and that god truly does love me. It's as painful to me to hear as if I were to tell them Satan truly loves them.

The first statement: "I'm praying for you" is offensive because I don't believe there is a god. It is also offensive because it ends up being the least amount of work for the greatest suspected return. Instead of actually calling me up to have a conversation, they will pray for me instead.

The second statement: "Eventually god will reveal himself to you" is offensive because I don't believe in god and therefore do not believe there will ever be a revelation. My first years of life I was raised in a strict gospel, where I learned who god was. As I grew up, I was taught he would answer prayers. When things happened how I prayed, god answered. When they didn't, god was testing me, or I prayed wrong. The result always ended up being in this invisible god's favor. No matter the outcome, it always pointed to god. When the logical conclusion still evaded me. How many people have prayed for something and it hasn't happened? The child being raped? The mother starving? The earnest man seeking? Why would a god pick and choose and what is the criteria? So telling me to wait on god's eventual revelation with absolutely no idea of what is necessary or if it will actually happen is ignorant.

The third statement: "You must not have been a true Christian". As a Mormon, I was immersed in Christian culture. I was schooled in the gospel. I prayed morning and night, fasted, paid tithing. I gave talks, bore testimony, was baptized, took sacrament, eventually was endowed and sealed in the temple. I believed with all my heart heavenly father was real. I had my questions, I had my doubts, but I believed through it all there was a heavenly father and I would see him again. When I discovered Mormonism was fake, that god didn't exist, I felt betrayed. I felt played. My whole foundation was swept out from under me. Trying to figure it out I was shamed, judged and told I never really believed. It discredited my whole Mormon experience, and my feelings and my testimony and my eventual leaving.

The fourth statement: "One day you will know the truth". The empty promise that one day I will be dead and all of religion will come to fruition is very frustrating. There is no way to prove it. There is no way to make good on the statement. It's just a threat meant to scare people into religion. And it's a very convincing threat because there is no way to prove its not true. Just as there is no way to prove there isn't a magical leprechaun on the dark side of the moon that shoots lightning out of its boobs.

The fifth statement: "You can't have morals without god". This statement scares me. First of all, morals were created by humans in order to have cohesive working societies. They have always been a construct of man. There are no absolute morals. To say a person cannot be moral without god, also makes me wonder how many people are only moral because of the threat of god. If a person cannot be good without god, that makes me nervous. If a man will only not cheat on his wife because of god, not because he loves her or considered her feelings, is he really that good of a man? Atheists are special because they choose to be moral and good with no promise of reward. They are good for goodness sake, not because anyone is commanding them. So I ask you, who actually is moral?

The sixth statement: "God still loves you". Saying this to someone who does not believe in god is offensive and patronizing. It is disrespectful and hurtful. Were I to say to a Christian, Allah still loves you, they would be irate. Were I to say to a Christan, Satan still has hope for your soul, you can still go back to him, they would be livid. And yet, they are so privileged in their thinking, they are doing right by me by telling me God loves me, but have absolutely no regard for how their convoluted platitudes make me feel.

The seventh statement: "You deny god, because you want to sin". I've told this story before, but I was accused of immorality when someone I knew found out I no longer believed in god. It must have been the only reason I would leave, that I wanted to sin. I wanted to prostitute myself, cheat on my husband, get sloppy drunk, smoke cigarettes, commit crimes. That was the only reason I would deny god, so I could eat drink and be merry. No, that is not the only reason. The majority of people who leave the Mormon church do so for moral, ethical and philosophical reasons. It starts out with learning the true history of the creation of the church, and slowly progresses to problem of evil, the impossible nature of deity, the exploitation of women. Until finally you cannot stomach the vomit any longer and spew it out. It wasn't easy. I tried drinking the koolaid for as long as I could, I kept praying with no answer, kept paying my tithing and going through insane temple rituals, hoping god would reveal the truth. Nothing happened, and the more I tried to prove god was real, the more I proved to myself that he wasn't. As I dug and dug and dug looking for answers to my questions, I found them. But they were not what I was expecting. No, I did not leave to sin, I left because it would be immoral to stay.

The sixth statement: "The fool says in his heart, there is no god".  Religious folk automatically assume that everyone else is more dumb than they are. Because they know the truth, they do not need science. Science could never explain god's intricacies. Such as how eyes work......or why potassium channels in cells accept potassium. Godless people have no merit, they will never know what the religious people know. And all of their learning means nothing if it is without god. My husband for instance, is never taken seriously by his religious family, even though his education and experience far surpasses their own. Yet because he has achieved his education without god, it is not worthy of respect. He is a fool. This bothers me to no end. How christians have no respect for science, for progress, for our earth. The heal meningitis with maple syrup and burn fossil fuels like there is no tomorrow. They think god created cell phones and helped them to find the perfect pair of shoes for prom. They praise god the surgery went well instead of the surgeon. The kiss their hands to heaven when things go they win a competition, instead of thanking the person who issued their win. Its utterly ridiculous, and yet people who reside in reality are the fools.

The ninth statement: "You're just going through a stage". I said this exact thing to my husband. And then later it was said to me by a family member. Its just a phase, you want to explore the world and live in sin, eventually something horrible enough will happen that will bring you back to god. You need to be humbled of your pride. Sadly, there are somethings you just can't come back from. Like learning Joseph Smith had an abortion clinic in one of his settlements, and married girls as young as 14. When you read all 5 versions of the first vision and notice the huge discrepancies. When you realize how poorly women are treated in Mormon culture and how unequal they are regarded in the doctrine. When you see the church leadership publicly ostracize homosexuals from worship. It's not a phase, it's not a stage when you realize just how unethical Christianity is. How telling someone they are inherently sinful and need your help to repent is wrong on so many moral levels. To go back would be as disgusting as a woman going back to an abusive husband.

The tenth statement: "You are being fooled by the devil". Chances are if a person doesn't believe in god, t hey don't believe in the devil either. Its just as laughable to tell someone they are being fooled by a fairy. It also automatically attributes our efforts, thoughts and actions to evil. It is offensive and mean to tell someone they are being guided by satan, a christian construction to explain the evils of the world. It also happens to be a last resort in many cases, where nothing else has worked, so it must be satan influencing you. I'm happy to say, thinking for myself is wonderful. I was scared at first, but as I kept telling myself I'd never had a prayer answered, and therefor all of my ideas were mine to begin with, I became less afraid of doing things of my own accord. Making decisions based on experience and reality, rather than what a bunch of white elitist chauvinistic homophobes thought I should be doing. I was fooled by their cunning lies long enough, and they stole too much of my hard earned income to pay for their mall. No dear friends, it is you who are being fooled by crafty conmen who have done exceptionally well for centuries controlling trusting and ignorant well-doers.

UnVeiled

UNVEILED

Woman

You’re nothing without beauty

Nothing if impure

Your body is your asset

But you mind is ignored

Behind this veil

You’re caged

Gawked at, leered at

Exploited, misused

He pats you on the head

But doesn’t hear your voice

Get married, have children

That’s what you are meant for

And once your body is damaged

You’re no longer of use

Beauty fades, its gone so soon

And you’ve been taught since birth

A woman is nothing but her appearance

You’re told you can’t have it all

But men can

They take what they want

And you are forced to give

Take off this veil

Stand, stand apart

Don’t give in any longer

A woman is not her body

Not her looks

She is smart, capable, useful

No need to hide behind the veil

Man has created to enslave you

Pull it back

Live, live for no one but yourself

You can have it all

Because it only matters if it matters to you

Take off the veil

Be a leader

Live

How I was Taught to Hate Myself

When I worked as a young college graduate in Utah, I was surprised to  learn just how many people were on antidepressants. How many people were addicted to narcotics and tranquilizers. How many people showed up to church on Sunday wearing a facade of happiness but who I knew were actually miserable. How many insane people worked with smiling faces in the temple, but who were actually not "temple worthy".

When I was a child, the dream of the celestial kingdom seemed like an achievable goal. But as I grew up, and was drown further into Mormon Doctrine, I discovered it wasn't achievable. I was taught new shames every Sunday. Reminded of what a fallen and sinful person I was, and how much I needed a savior. Now, I wasn't a crazy kid. I never did drugs, I never had premarital relations. I went to church, seminary, did my service projects, earned my young woman's medallion, got good grades, listened to my parents. I wasn't a juvenile delinquent, and yet I was constantly made to feel guilty about who I was.

Anytime a swear word popped up in a movie, I felt like I had been dropped in a vat of spiders. Anytime I saw a girl's shoulders, I pitied her for her immodesty, and judged her for wanting to attract the "wrong kind of boy". Anytime I saw a tattoo, I wondered what kind of a dirty person they were.

And then I lay awake at night, dreading my eventual death because there was no way a horrible person like me would ever make it to the celestial kingdom. I was going to fail.  It haunted me. It caused me anxiety.

At church I was taught that my only dignified and celebrated destiny was to be a mother. And I felt and anytime I considered doing anything else. I would scold myself for even considering anything other than motherhood. I was taught that the way I behaved and dressed either labeled me a woman of god or an easy woman of the world. And that my dress was responsible for the bad thoughts in boys. We had bishopric talks where they would tell us "its your responsibility to help the boys, to help keep their thoughts pure". That responsibility was placed on my shoulders. When it never should have been.

I was ashamed of my body. I remember in the 10th grade, my sister gave me a shirt that was too big for me. I wore it proudly, like a tent, feeling that I was so modest because my breasts had no shape in it. For my brother's wedding, I was forced to wear my sister-in-law's little sisters camisole over my dress instead of the wrap like the older girls were wearing. Because the immodesty of it broke my mothers heart and she cried in the bathroom about it. I was embarrassed. You couldn't see my shoulders at all with the wrap, it was even offered to be pinned on. But it was the implication and the message. It was immodest. After that I became obsessed over modesty, and looked like an oaf through high school. I dressed homely, and in clothes that were always too big. I looked horrible, but I thought I was doing god's will. I had zero self esteem. I felt ugly. I felt worthless. I felt like a piece of meat.

But I was a regular heterosexual teenage girl, and I wanted boys' attention. Now I understand why I didn't really get it. I laugh about it now, it's pretty funny in hindsight, particularly when I look at pictures of myself from high school. I think, man I could have worn something different and looked so much better.

So I was conditioned believe I was responsible for men's thoughts and actions, that my only calling in this life was to be a wife and mother, and that I wasn't good enough to make it on my own and that even with god's help, statistically I probably wasn't going to b exalted. Does that sound like a recipe for confidence? For success? For happiness? Damn, I sure hope not.

And then I got married, and those things started to actually matter. I quit my awesome job to be a mother. I gave up modest clothes for ultra modest clothes. I found myself and my "poor" spirituality under constant attack and scrutiny, and it caused me more anxiety, more pain. I felt like no matter what I did, it wasn't enough. And the spiritual failing of my home became a burden on my shoulders. I felt guilty. I felt isolated. I felt ashamed with each relief society lesson about maintaining a godly home. I felt inadequate when my prayers remained unanswered, because the fault surely was with me.

And then when I'd absolutely had enough, I made a choice. I was done. I'm sad that I had no choice in the life I was born into. I was always jealous of my husband, because he was able to choose to be a member of the Mormon church, I never had that choice. I was born into it. And at 8, it was expected of me to be baptized. It was beaten into my head to be sealed in the temple. It was burned into my brain to be a mother. I had no choice. I was coerced into virtually ever decision I made, with my family being held hostage. Do this or lose your family, do that or be alone for eternity, become this or you will be the weak link that breaks the chain. It was fear that motivated me, not love. It was fear and self loathing that kept me paying 10% of everything I earned to my abusers.

That's why I say no more. And that is why I am so passionate about helping others to see what took me so much time and pain to realize. The Mormon church is an abusive cult that harms women especially. It perpetuates gender stereotypical shaming and rape culture. And I am so glad I am no longer a part of it. Though, unfortunately, it will continue to haunt me for the rest of my life.

How to Celebrate Women

Recently, we "celebrated" international Women's Day. I didn't even know it was an official thing until Facebook sent me a notification calling on me to share the news.

Thank goodness I don't follow anyone ridiculous enough to post something asinine or chauvinistic, but my husband does. The problem was, they had absolutely no idea.

I'm not going to quote exactly, but instead I will paraphrase so you can get an idea of their mind frame.

"Today I'm thankful for women because they give up their bodies to have children."
"I just want to celebrate women's day and give a shout out to all of the selfless mothers out there."
"Happy women's day to all of you women who sacrifice so much to give us life."

Now hang on. These are lovely things to say! Aren't they?

Let me explain to you why they are not.

First off, I'm a mother. I have two beautiful children, and yes I joke constantly about how they ruined my body and how I gave up my identity and my ambitions to raise them. That's another issue entirely, and while it was my decision, I do blame my religion in part. But now that I am here, I love my kids and am happy raising them. However, that is not what makes me a woman.

For men to use women's day as an outlet to say thank you to all of the "wonderful mothers" out there misses the point entirely. Women should not be defined by their ability to reproduce. They should not be defined by their chosen position as mother. A woman should be defined as a woman.

We do not have a man's day where we celebrate a man's ability to inseminate. Or his ability to sire a child. We don't commend him for giving up his sperm. We don't define a man's success by his procreation. We define his success by his achievements, his merit, his ambition.

However, we still define women in terms of sexuality, beauty, and reproduction. Example being, you are not a true woman if you do not have a man and children. And every single story or movie about women has romance and the need to secure a man in the plot somewhere. But we do not do this for men.

It is incredibly condescending and chauvinistic for men to say "we celebrate women because they are mothers". Not all women want to be mothers, and not all women CAN be mothers. There are thousands, if not millions of women who will never "sacrifice their body" to bear a child simply because they are unable to biologically. But that is no different than a woman who choses not to "sacrifice her body" to have children. A woman should not be defined by her reproduction.

We have a day to celebrate women who are mothers. It is called "Mother's Day". And thank goodness, we have a day to celebrate fathers as well.

But we also have a day to just celebrate women. To celebrate them for their gender. To celebrate them for their intelligence, their escaping male oppression, their ambitions. There are still women all over the world who are considered property, who do not enjoy the same freedoms as men, who are bought and sold, raped at men's pleasure, beaten, threatened, degraded, harmed......for the simple fact that they are female.

Women have been pressed for thousands of years. Usually because of religion, because the god of man has declared women a weaker sex, a temptation, a burden, property, unclean, for man's purposes. For the bearing of children and the cooking of meals.

I grew up being told my greatest calling and responsibility would be to be a mother. Than I would be a partner with god in the creation of bodies. That there was nothing I could do that would be more successful or necessary. I was conditioned to think that I was only worthwhile if I was married and had children. It was a poisonous thing to teach me. I don't blame anyone, but I am saddened by it, and for those who are brainwashed into believing the same thing about themselves. Motherhood is wonderful, but it is not what a woman HAS to do. And she should not feel less of a woman if she cannot or decides not to have children (biologically or by adoption). And that's why I hate mommy bloggers who shame other women for not being mothers, for working outside the home, for wanting time away from their kids or no kids at all.

So let's not celebrate women for their ability to bear children. Let's celebrate them because they've never been celebrated before just for being who they are. Women and men are no different. We are all the same species, we all have two arms, two legs, eyes, ears, mouths, brains. We should regard women as we regard men, and celebrate them equally.

So next time you want to celebrate a woman by way of childbearing, please reconsider. Remember, just as there is so much more to a man than his ejaculate, there is so much more to a woman than merely growing a baby.