You Know.... I Don't Know What to Call This One

 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.