Just as I have problems with people in my faith looking out and judging others, I have a problem with other people looking in and judging us. I think in the very few postings that I have done, I have made it clear that I am odd and different and try to stand for something other than what my religion is stereotyped to be. I talk about being hurt from within a lot, but I am also hurt from the outside as well. Today I have nowhere else to go to express this.
As a hairstylist, I get to meet a lot of different people every day. Hundreds of people have been through my chair; I hear hundreds of stories. We get to know each other, become friends, form relationships. I laugh when your children have said something funny. I cry when you're going through something hard. I love you. I don't care about all the things the world might care about, and I would never ask prying or rude questions into your life. I also would never judge you for life choices. That is not my job, and I hope that I receive the same courtesy from you.
My three years in Ohio tells me that this is not always so.
I meet lots of beautiful people with sweet intentions, and lots of not-so-nice people with less than desirable intentions. Whoever you are, I ask a series of questions to get to know you.
1. "Do you live around here?"
2. "Are you originally from Columbus?"
3. Do you work or go to school or....?
4. What are/were your plans this weekend?
5. Do you have any kids? /A spouse?/ Siblings?
6. Do you have any brothers and sisters? Is your family nearby?
I have way more than this stuck up my sleeve, but this tends to be how I start talking to someone I've never met before. In turn, I get asked the same or similar questions, and I can pretty much write you a word for word script of how the introduction goes.
Me: Are you originally from Columbus? *scrub scrub lather lather*
Them: (settles into shampoo chair and smiles) No, I'm from (Dayton/Eastern Ohio/Cincinnati/ Cleveland)/ Yes, born and raised.
Are you?
Me: (slows) Nope. I'm from out west.
Them:(Confused) Where out west?
Me: Utah (Pause) (Pause)
Them: (Eyes opening wide) ARE YOU MORMON?!
I am going to take a pause right here. No matter your intent, which I can sometimes read, I find this question to be incredibly exhausting, not to mention rude, at this point in the conversation. If you heard I'm from Utah, don't drink, don't smoke, don't go out on Sundays, etc, then it might be polite to be inquisitive and ask, "Ohhh... are you Mormon?" But upon hearing I'm from Utah, and the only thing you know about Utah is that Mormons grow in hives there, asking me (someone you've been talking to for about 3 minutes) about my religion can sometimes get a little overwhelming. I have this conversation with every single person that comes through my chair. I would never ask you if you were Christian with no other knowledge of you than being from the bible belt. I wouldn't ask if you were Catholic after finding out you're from Vatican City, and I definitely wouldn't assume you were Muslim, just because you were from the middle east. In fact, I probably wouldn't ask at all, unless we were close friends and I was trying to understand everything about you.
I gotta say, at first I was not annoyed by it. I loved describing my weird background as none other than "Mormon Lite" (a term I coined myself). "Dad was a Mormon, Excommunicated. Mom was a Jew, Converted. I'm not quite a Jack Mormon, but I'm definitely a liberal one!" But quickly after I first moved here, I often started to feel JUDGED and ATTACKED for laying any claim to this "devil" religion! Sometimes I want to lie and tell people I'm from my husband's city. I'm still trying to come up with a good way to detour the conversation, so we don't sit and talk about me being Mormon for an hour. There are so many more things about me, even religiously/spiritually. I also celebrate Hanukkah and Passover. Sometimes I go to the synagogue. I've been to more churches than I can count. I love spirituality in all its forms. I love the feelings of community, culture, passion, and loving understanding that are taught in many churches!
Honestly, it gets really disheartening, to be told what I believe from someone who thinks they know everything about me. Or for someone to judge me upon hearing me say "yes" to that question. I get anxiety now to admit it, because sometimes people shoot me a fleeting look of disdain. Sometimes they laugh. Sometimes they look as though they pity me, because I'm stuck in this patriarchal society, and my husband will never respect me and I will have to be a boring stay-at-home mom and how unfulfilling for me (or whatever they think). And it sucks. And it's tiresome. But not much gets me heated or perturbed. I laugh and do my job. Silly Non Mormons, stereotypes are for kids.
Not much gets me feeling hurt until today.
A man whom I can only describe to you as Bret Michael's wannabe stalker comes into my salon, 50's 60's maybe, Bleach blond hair, light washed jeans, cowboy boots, and crying because he did not bring his signature cowboy hat. Hasn't had his hair cut over a year-and-a-half , but wants me to take off only a weeny inch. He sees me and he makes a judgment about me from only what he sees.
And it is that I wasn't Mormon
He smiles and says, "I was hoping they wouldn't put me with someone that looked like everybody else." What I think he his referring to is the fact that I have vibrant purple and teal hair... Every other part of me is dressed up in black salonwear. I'm wearing red lipstick. I have pink cheeks. The only thing that stands out is my hair.
We got to talking at the shampoo bowl. I started into my questions. He followed the usual script.
"Utah!" He says loudly, pulling his head up and out of the shampoo bowl. "Mormon town!" Oh good. He didn't ask.
"Yes. It sure is." Not out of the woods yet.
"From the way you are dressed...." No. let's not.
".....and your hair....." Uh oh.
"I can only guess that you aren't Mormon." Smile sheepishly. Look to the side. Maybe a good enough answer...
"......Or at the very least, you don't have anything to do with it." Uh.....
Me: .........I'm..........liberal.
"You at least drink caffeine?" He laughs. That's not really a thing. Let's not get into it.
Me: (laugh laugh laugh. He's so witty) Sure do.
Good enough answer for him. I'm Not Really Mormon. He settles back into the shampoo bowl and speaks slowly and wistfully, like a cowboy telling stories over the campfire.
"I hate that damn religion.... because of its founder, that disgusting Joseph Smith."
Me: Mmmmm.
I know people feel like this. Hell, I sometimes have mixed feelings about that guy, but that was over a hundred years ago. I don't know the whole story. I'm not a hundred and fifty years old. I know that he could have been just a man. Or maybe he was truly a prophet, who knows? There are zillions of stories in the bible of God people doing really weird crap, then getting yelled at for it. I'm not surprised that this upsets people, nor does it make me want to leave my church.
"He was a pervert, a child molester, and a rapist. I find it disgusting that people followed him. Idiots."
Me: Silence. Heart beating faster. Stomach contents rising up into esophagus.
"Did you know they used to live here in Ohio?"
Uh... hello? What did you gleam from our conversation where I said I'm Mormon? Do you not think they teach us history?
Me: Yup.
"They were kicked out of New York for being terrible people. For taking wives and children."
Me: Wow. Feel this conditioner in your hair. So soft.
(At this point I'm paraphrasing, because I started to get dizzy and I can't remember exact words.)
"Joseph Smith and his brother Hyrum were shot, because of this stuff. Because they were child molesters and rapists. They were just shot in the back, and they deserved it. I'da done it too."
Wow. That is really... offensive?
Me: Anyway, I just need to let this sit on for a minute. Can I get you a hot towel?
"Yes. Have you heard about how they were tarred and feathered? Whole lots of them." As he said this, he laughed. No, he cackled and guffawed at people being tarred and feathered. Not just a man he thought was a scumbag. He laughed at all the tarrings and featherings of all the members that experienced it. As an empathetic person, this tore my heart into little tiny pieces. I struggled not to let them bounce out of my skin, tried to mentally pick them up and scotch tape them back together. I don't remember much after this. Somehow, I succeeded at changing the subject, and then never spoke about this again. I remember feeling like he was applying his hatred to all of the people that had or ever would be Mormon. I remember that he said more than I can remember now. And I remember that I wanted to hide in a hole. It ate at me all day.
Because it's not that uncommon an experience for me.
I'm always trying to make a change from within. Members sometimes say stereotypical things that make me want to put an entire roll of masking tape over their mouths. But the thing is, people like this exist everywhere, in every facet of life. They permeate our existence. Stereotypes help us sort people, even ourselves, into tiny little boxes, wrapped tight with perfectly knotted bows, arranged in neatly organized rows of our thoughts about what they should be like. We like things tidy and neat with no overlap, because if there is overlap, then we have to open the box back up and make a new category of person, and this is far too exhausting and disorganized.
I teeter on the edges of two large boxes.
I really want you to stop organizing what you see as character flaws.
Why is it that, when some people see me and think, "No way. Not Mormon" they talk to me like a human being, like a normal person? When they find out that I am Mormon, suddenly it changes everything some of them think about me? Their box of me opens up, and in their brains I'm picked up by some cold metal forceps and shoved into the box marked, "Mormon?" Suddenly I'm in a box that apparently a lot of people hate, and I am 100% like those other people. They need to walk on eggshells around me. Then, the moment I reveal that I am in the gray area, I'm just as suddenly out of that box, into another, and have become the person that they can say really ugly things about Mormons to. Just because I have some big issues with my church, does not mean that someone can spout hateful and judgmental words to me about it. You want to have a civil discussion about your problems and fears that stem from my church? Fine. Do you want to spew hateful, judgmental garbage about my friends, family, and ancestors? Can I do that to the people you love?
And do we have to have these conversations every time you hear the word, "Mormon?" I really hope not. I really hope that people can look past the word, and see that we are just people. All of us are on different paths. We are all in different places in our lives. Just because our leaders say one thing, does not mean we even agree with what they are saying. Could you maybe ask me my personal opinions on the matter, before assuming that I want to take away your rights/choices/beliefs? Do you assume that every catholic you meet is parroting the pope? Do you assume that every Muslim is a jihad? I really hope you don't.
I'm tired of hearing how much I hate gay people. I'm sick of people saying that I'm going to hell. I'm also really exhausted by people thinking that I am a brainwashed sheep, following every word coughed out by every single person who has ever spoken in a church or temple. I honestly don't have that much conviction. I know nothing. I believe nothing. I want to believe, and that is why I'm here.
I am here because I want to be here.
There are lots like me. I am part of a beautiful community of people who love and help each other every day, in ways I cannot describe. When I move into a new place, they are there to help me unpack. When I move out, they are there to help me repack. When I'm sick they sign up to bring me meals. When I'm sad, they stop by to show their love. When I'm not at church they send messages that let me know that I'm missed. And when I'm far away from family, they step up and become my family.
We are not just Mormons. It doesn't define all of us as people. We are millions of human beings, musicians, doctors, men and women with careers, writers, poets, stay-at-home parents, feminists, bikers, bakers, grad students, sales reps, IT people, gay rights advocates, hair dressers, tattoo artists, republicans, democrats. We have all kinds. We have all thoughts. We are not one voice or one idea. We are all just trying to live our lives and be good people. I'm so tired of all the assumptions about a group of people that contains millions. It is impossible for all of us to be the same. If you absolutely have to create boxes, create a separate one for each of us. Inside those boxes will be every bit of ourselves, and "Mormon" will be written on a thin piece of paper, stuck in the smallest corner, mixed in with every other facet of our lives.
I'm tired of being worn down to be like whatever it is that people want me to be. I wish that others would just let people be who they are, and seek to be knowledgeable about someone as an individual before letting preconceived notions cloud their judgments about another person. If there is anything that I hope that people take from reading anything I write, it is simply that idea. People are amazing as individuals. They have so many stories to provide, if you would just let them speak. We can't do that if we turn off our minds before we even meet them, before they open their mouths, or before they really get the chance to speak. My message, as always, is that if we treat people with respect, if we just live with love, it might surprise us where we can find new friends.
It might surprise us where our minds can go.
Monday, March 30, 2015
Sunday, March 29, 2015
You Belong
Below is a talk I gave in church last summer:
When we were asked
to talk about our favorite story from Jesus’ life, I thought about it, and
thought about it, and thought about it. I overachieved, and reread Matthew,
Mark, Luke, and John at one time. I’ve read them all before, but never in
succession. I don’t know about you, but whenever I read about Jesus, it’s
always for some holiday, or some class, or just picking and choosing a story to
read. It’s just a verse or series of verses to convey a point. So yes, I had
read all of these stories before, but there was something that really impressed me when I read it all in one
sitting. And it was really hard to pick just one story. So I didn’t. I cheated
a little. Christ continually and unselfishly helped everyone around Him. Verse
after verse, chapter after chapter, He is bullied, berated, hated, and
questioned by everyone. And verse after verse, He stops to help the people
those that hate him, those that others call small and unworthy. He says He
loves them, without even knowing them, regardless of everything they’ve ever
done wrong, and in spite of what others see in them. And this is what I decided
to talk about today. His love.
Really, that’s all
that Jesus was. Just love. Just the pure love of everyone in the world ever, as
long as the world is or has been in existence- every person you meet and see.
He loved them. He loves them. But it’s a certain kind of love that I really
admire Him for. He didn’t just love the people who were showing up to church
every week, getting straight A’s, doing everything right, being sweet angels.
He loved the the odd, the weirdos, the sinners, the harlots, the jerks, even
the people that hated him. He loved people no matter how much they stuck out,
or how much others said they didn’t belong. He took the opportunity to care for
them and teach them. He invited them into church just the same.
So I will start
with my first favorite story of Christ’s love. It is the parable of the sheep
in Matthew chapter 18. For anyone who doesn’t know the parable, it says that if
a man has 100 sheep, and one of them goes astray, he’s going to go looking for
that sheep. He’s not just going to leave it. He doesn’t say, “Eh, I have plenty
more where that came from.” He gets his hands dirty and gets that sheep back. And
when that one sheep does come back, he’s going to be happier about it than even
about those 99 that didn’t wander off. God will always welcome us back with
open arms. We, too, get so many opportunities to help our lost sheep, to
nurture them and help them come back to us. Do we always recognize those
opportunities, or do we sometimes miss them, because someone seems too lost or
out of place?
When I was about
eight or nine years old, my father was excommunicated. Before then he had loved
this church. He taught me about the priesthood. He served as a high priest. He
had gone on a mission. He was married in the temple. But now, my parents were
divorced, and he no longer had the priesthood. I was confused, and nothing made sense to me,
but he was my dad and I still loved him. I was told by my leaders that
excommunication was an act of love, to help him start over. This comforted me
immensely, but then I witnessed many of my neighbors, his previous friends,
stop talking to him. They whispered about him in the halls at church.
It broke my heart. Wasn’t he still
one of God’s children? Wasn’t he still my dad?
Several years
later, he was in another area, now a nonmember. He had become angry and bitter
towards the church. He turned away missionaries and invitations to attend, but he
had a bishop that reached out to him. That bishop would visit and talk with my
dad, and they became friends. That
bishop found out that my dad loved and missed being involved in scouts, and
decided help a lost sheep. He then invited my dad to be a scout leader, and my
dad was ecstatic. He had missed being a part of scouts so much, and he talked
about it weekly. He made sure my brothers were eagle scouts. He took me
camping, and made sure I knew how to tie all the knots, and start a rad log
house fire. So, of course, he immediately began preparing lessons for these
kids.
One day, he
received another visit from the bishop, who told him there had been complaints,
too many complaints, about him in the scout leader position. They had
threatened to pull their kids out of scouts because my father was a nonmember,
and they knew he drank alcohol in his home, and so the bishop had no choice but
void his offer. When my dad revealed this to me later, all I saw was hurt in
his eyes. It hurt me too, because he was my daddy. The bishop extended a hand
towards my dad. He was being Christlike and loving, which he will never know I
am so grateful for. He was trying to help get my father involved again. But it
can’t just be one person with a lantern, saying “here, sheep. Here, sheep.” In
our congregations we are all shepherds and we are all sheep. We need to bust
out a search party and love that lost sheep to death.
While giving the Sermon
on the Mount, Jesus delivered one of my other favorite lines, “Judge not, that
ye not be judged. For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged.” He asks
the people how they can point out a mote, or a splinter, in their brother’s
eye, but forget about the giant beam in their own eye. Christ, the only perfect
person ever to walk the earth, the only person that honestly could place
judgment on someone without hypocrisy, tells all his disciples that they
shouldn’t do it. I take this thought with me to church every week. I think we
can slip up sometimes, and look at someone and think, “Why are they even here?
Why are they LDS? They do this and this and this. They don’t deserve to be
here. They should just leave.” We forget that someone could look at us, and for
whatever the reason may be, they could think the same thing. And I don’t know
about you guys, but I really want to be here. Church can sometimes be my
sanity, even if I’m snoring—Of course by accident.
Recently,
I read a blog posted by a Christian actress. I’ve seen it floating on a couple
of other Facebook walls, so I know some here have read it. It seemed almost too
perfect for this talk. It is called, “Three Immodestly dressed women walk into
a church.” It contains a story about three women, and shows why we cannot and
should not judge people inside of our halls.
The first woman is
new to church and has recently discovered the gospel, after previously being
rebellious and a little wild. This is her first time attending, but all she has
is a skirt that stops above the knees and a tank top.
The second woman
has recently gained a lot of weight, and all of her clothes fit poorly and are
now too tight. However, she doesn’t have the money yet to buy new clothes.
The third is a
young teen, still grappling with the idea of being “cool” and “modest” at the
same time. An older woman tells her that she would never allow her child out
dressed like that, that men in this church only want “respectable” girls. The
girl hides in the bathroom the rest of the day and many Sundays after.
In all of these
stories, we have a couple of choices. We can judge an outward appearance and
assume these women’s inner reasons and feelings for dressing like they do,
potentially blocking some kind of spiritually uplifting experience for both of
us. Or we can open our doors and unlock our hearts and just love them for being
here, for taking that step. Christ, in all of his perfection, told us in
Matthew 22 that the greatest commandment is to love God, and that the second
greatest is to love thy neighbor as thyself. Can we remember this and act with
love towards everyone we meet? We never know why people do what they do. We
never know what they’re going through. Perhaps our love is just what they need
to feel the spirit, to feel whole.
President Uchdorf
gave a conference talk last October called, “Come join with us.” It resonated
with me. He said that there is room for all here, that we can find similarities
in our yearnings, struggles, and hopes. We may have different upbringings, but,
and I quote, “we need your unique talents and perspectives. The diversity of
persons and peoples all around the globe is the strength of this church.” I
would like to add one more thing to this already fabulous idea. That we are all
children of God, and we should treat each other as such. What a new found
respect for people we can have if we view them this way. How will it change our
actions and thoughts towards them?
I loved this talk
and felt that it pertained to me, like he was speaking right to me. I don’t
look like a stereotypical Mormon. I have a very unconventional upbringing.
Aside from my father, my mother is a convert from Judaism. I grew up with bits
of everything and teachings from everywhere. My dad even experimented with
Native American spirituality. As a lifelong Utahn, I often felt alienated at
church, like I didn’t belong there, but I loved the beautiful ideas from the
Book of Mormon, adding to and extending broad ideas from the Bible. When I was
struggling the most with my differentness, my brother would tell me something I
loved. Chris has now informed me that what he said is a famous quote, but I’m
going to continue attributing it to my brother, because it made him seem
terribly wise and thoughtful. He said, “Church is a hospital for the spiritually
sick, not a rest home for the righteous. You deserve to be here just as much as
the rest of us.”
When we moved to
Columbus I was nervous—nervous that I would have to start all over again,
proving that I was worthy to be here with everyone else, that people might not
accept me because I don’t seem like a “typical” Mormon. What I found was the
opposite. My previous ward, and now this one, welcomed with open arms. So many
people extended love in my direction, taking me in, making me feel like I belonged.
Two Christmases ago, I sang at our ward Christmas party in full hair school
regalia—All black from head-to-toe, a school shirt that was too small, because
that was the only size they had left, pants when others were in skirts, hot
pink lipstick, and yes, even my purple hair. Afterwards, one of the girls came
up to me and said, “I’m so glad that you are you, and that you are here.” I
can’t tell you how much that meant to me, something so small she will probably
never know. She could have looked at me and thought, “She doesn’t belong here.”
She could have never talked to me or done her visiting teaching, because I
looked like the kind of person that wouldn’t be into that, but she didn’t. She
reached out to me with a Christlike love, and pulled me into the ward, bringing
us both closer to the gospel and to Christ. She just loved me.
So
many in this ward have done the same, and I thank you all for your love. If
there is anyone here that is worried they don’t belong, I urge you to read any
chapter about Jesus’ life. He welcomed all. His church is for everyone, so
please stay here with us. I love that we are all children of our Heavenly
Father, siblings to our Savior, Jesus Christ, no matter what else we are, and I
hope that we can emulate them and remember to love everyone, inside…and
outside… of this building. I’m so grateful to be a part of this ward, and for
the friendship that many of you have already shown me. Thank you.
I say these things in the name of
Jesus Christ, amen.
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