This Black Woman's LDS Story
Posted: Fri Dec 01, 2006 1:21 am
At the request of Shades, and for the cultural edification of those who don't think that there is a race problem in the church today, I post my conversion/confusion/outrage/outlet story.
But before I get into that, let me bear my testimony of what I feel God has done for me today. Firstly, I'm a progressive Christian. I'm also Evangelical, but I hate fundies. I believe that the journey is just as important as the destination, and that the vehicle you're traveling in isn't really worth much.
I grew up abused on all sides, spent ten years of my life suicidal, and nineteen depressed. Today, I am a joyful spirit. And it's not because I've gotten all that I wanted out of life. Sure, I'm being prospered in certain ways, but many things are still the same...like my family. Which breaks my heart, but I'm gonna heal, even if they're not.
So for those who want to say I'm crazy, to them I say this: I only pretend to be this way so f*ckers like you will go away and leave me alone. *grin*
Now, onto the good stuff. And for those who think this post is "sensational" (thanks!, LOL), I'm a writer. It's what I do.
------------------------------
The elders knocked on my door on a pretty day in June of 2001. At that time, my relationship with God was a tenuous one. You see, I'm half Jewish, half Christian. My mom's mom belongs to a church that I see to be the Mormons of the Jewish tradition. They barely hang onto what Judaism is, while introducing all sorts of heinous (and often blasphemous in the eyes of the Jewish community) stuff. They too believe in a modern prophet as well. They call him "the leader" which makes me think of that Simpsons episode where they joined the cult. My dad's mom is fundie Christian. She's much more mellow now, but she used to tell me I was going to hell all the time...until I told her that if I indeed I were to go, I'd make sure to grab her ankle and take her with me. She stopped that mess. I grew up spending my entire weekends at church, trying to avoid home. I saw a lot that confused me. Add to that a few years in Catholic school, and we had quite a conundrum.
My family situation sucked. Still does. Parents split when I was 7, they hated each other by the time I was born, dad didn't claim me, mom didn't want me. I grew up not feeling loved. By the time I was 12 I was ready to die, and I didn't even know what the word suicide was. I believed in God, but as I've told others, back then, God was nothing more than a pretend friend to me, someone I talked to when I was lonely, and refused to believe in when I was scared. God also got put on my sh*t list very early (and forgive me, sensitive ones, my relationship with Him now is so real, that I can say things like that...He already knew what I was thinking back then, I'm just telling the truth of what happened today). I was angry at God for a long time for one, not keeping my family together, two, letting the only people who cared about me die, and three, not stopping my mom's physical abuse. I grew up during the time when society was just coming to grips with the idea of child abuse. They knew what it was, but not always how to deal with it. Not to mention, my mom signed my teachers' paychecks, and they were a bit afraid to cross her.
Needless to say, by the time the church found me, I was all messed up. Angry, lonely, scared. I wanted some place to belong, and that is the ONLY reason the church got a chance. Because despite my problems, I had something called common sense, which is why I'm alive today. I had the common sense to listen to God, and move where He dictated I should. Hence (sorry to burst your happy little bubble, Wade) I put myself in therapy at 14, without the knowledge of my parents, because I knew we had problems, and I had hope for my life. I'm 25 now, and much has changed. In fact, I have changed. Sadly, my family situation has not.
The elders knocked on my door and told me that they wanted to give me a message about Jesus. Now, if you know anything about the church, you will know that in most wards, Jesus plays a back seat. But for many TBMs, the fact that His name is in the name of their church, and the fact that they rush over saying things in his name at the end of a talk or half thought out prayer is enough. I ain't even getting into that.
I told those boys that "God and I have issues". They, as they were trained to do, feigned interest. So I let them in. I explained to them my dismay with modern religions (as I saw them then), with people being cruel in Christ's name, and with racism in church. They nodded their heads (as they'd been trained to do), and began with the first discussion once they had reeled me in. They told me that the church was the true church, and all the problems I had been having with other churches (including racism) would not be a problem in the LDS church.
And I believed them.
Six weeks later, after taking the discussions, I was baptized.
In the beginning, everything was fine. But once the waters of baptism dried off, I was no longer the celebrity, I was just a regular person. And I began to discover, a person who was only good enough to speak to in church.
My background had taken me down many a sad path. One of them took my virginity. One issue I struggled with was constantly having to sit in relief society and hear about how pure all those women were. Not to mention, none of them had the family problems I did. Either that, or they lied. Fast and testimony meeting was just one big brag fest about one's wonderful cookie-baking family, and one's wonderful capitol hill job. I felt so out of place there. I am related to teenage mothers, uneducated people (as in no high school diploma), drug addicts, and people who have been to jail, including a cousin in jail for attempted murder. These folks weren't going to bring me home period, much less home to mom.
I began to notice also, that out of the 500+ singles in our ward, there were no black men (I never attended a ward with an African American man in it, never in five years), and the black females (five total, or was it six?) either dated outside the church or not at all. No one in the church ever asked us out.
I began to get tired of the cultural blandness of the church. Don't get me wrong, but nothing but white people. I was not raised in such an environment. I grew up in an all-white neighborhood, but those people were used to me, and I to them. The white Mormons I dealt with usually didn't know what to do with me. And after a while, the hypocrisy started to shine through. You could tell me that I had a sweet spirit, but you didn't want to get to know that sweet spirit outside of sunday, unless it was within your cultural boundaries.
The people in my initial ward were so weird. They refused to do anything that was considered "modern" or "secular" top 40s music, any movies other than a G rating, hanging with non-LDS simply to do so...none of this went on. And the stake bragged about their righteousness and temple attendance...and they ate it up.
I used to sing in church a lot, but eventually stopped when I was informed that Gospel music was seen to "take away the spirit" (and if you think I'm lying, go onto FAIR and look at Renee Olson's talk), and wasn't allowed except in firesides. I even went so far as to write a letter to the bishop once, explaining why I wanted to sing certain song (because they had meaning, duh), and even giving them my CDs (which I never got back) and a list of lyrics. I was snubbed. I'm sorry, but I'm not using my voice in church just to give someone spiritual indigestion. My voice is a gift from God, and if I can't use it to praise Him, then I don't want to use it.
Onto the race issues:
My mom was quite shocked when I joined the church. As was every black person I encountered of her generation when they found out I was LDS. I didn't know why. My mom's family often said to me, "you joined WHAT church?". I had to repeat myself ad nauseum, I tell you. And I didn't get it at first. I thought mom was on crack when she said the church was against interracial dating, and that they had problems with black people...until I opened my eyes.
The initial shock came when an African man came to our ward. He bore his testimony, and I thought he was cool. Everyone did. But after sacrament, this girl comes up to me and says, "there's someone you can date". I didn't even know what to say to that. But it all started coming together after that.
The single men who would talk to the white woman next to me, but not even meet my gaze half the time. Some of these guys weren't even white! But they weren't black, either.
The fact that my "sistas" in the ward never dated LDS men, and had to look outside the church for love. The few that I know that are still active STILL DO...yet they hang on in misery dreaming of that temple marriage.
The "skins of blackness" passages in the Book of Mormon, that I remember trying to justify with friends of color who were LDS.
Not to mention all that I came across on the internet...including people on ldslinkup.com trying to justify the use of the word "n*gger", just because they'd heard some black people use it. Well I don't, and if you call me that you will get punched. Seriously.
I began to be miserable. You see, I had joined the church out of the need for a family. And I have that in my new church, but they're human there. In the LDS church, I held the dream of the forever family, one that was not going to be like the family I was raised in. After I began to work on my self esteem, I had held to the conviction that I was indeed a good person, even beautiful, and deserving of love. But that never played out in the church. And with every marriage I saw, I became more depressed. Before I finally got my name removed, I would damn near cry every time I saw a woman (who was always white) coming out of the temple in her wedding dress. I knew that would never be me...at least not as a Mormon.
At first, I just asked why things were the way they were. To that, I got responses of "you're a troublemaker", or "you're crazy". One person told me that my problems in the church were due to me explicitly, that I was my own problem. They attacked my morals, my sanity, my spirituality. I was deep in this right before going through the temple. And I was told by many "authorities" that I wasn't prepared to go.
I struggled with the cog dis for a while. If this was the truth, then there was something wrong with me. I hung on because I wanted the church to be true. I wanted the forever family. My temple experience is something I'll always remember as pleasant, because back then I had no peace in my life (home life was awful, stepdad a perv, grooming me for molestation, mom ignoring it for the money). The temple was serene in a way I had never experienced. So I can't scoff at that or anyone who goes there. But I knew I couldn't spend the rest of my life as LDS. I don't belong there.
It took me three years to get my name taken off church records. During that three years, I went in and out of activity, and also had a stint on FAIR, where the final nails were hammered into my LDS coffin.
I got my release letter about two months ago. I'm a happier person.
Part of me wanted to stay and fight, not because I thought the church was true, but because I thought the racism was unfair. But I knew that I'd be fighting closed minds, and I have better things to do.
Maybe in a few generations things will change. But I value myself too much to dwell in an institution that does not value me...except in February for a PR stint. Goodness, I remember singing for their firesides. If I knew then what I know now...
Any questions, just ask. This is really just an "overview". I can't put five years of detail into this one post. Sorry...
But before I get into that, let me bear my testimony of what I feel God has done for me today. Firstly, I'm a progressive Christian. I'm also Evangelical, but I hate fundies. I believe that the journey is just as important as the destination, and that the vehicle you're traveling in isn't really worth much.
I grew up abused on all sides, spent ten years of my life suicidal, and nineteen depressed. Today, I am a joyful spirit. And it's not because I've gotten all that I wanted out of life. Sure, I'm being prospered in certain ways, but many things are still the same...like my family. Which breaks my heart, but I'm gonna heal, even if they're not.
So for those who want to say I'm crazy, to them I say this: I only pretend to be this way so f*ckers like you will go away and leave me alone. *grin*
Now, onto the good stuff. And for those who think this post is "sensational" (thanks!, LOL), I'm a writer. It's what I do.
------------------------------
The elders knocked on my door on a pretty day in June of 2001. At that time, my relationship with God was a tenuous one. You see, I'm half Jewish, half Christian. My mom's mom belongs to a church that I see to be the Mormons of the Jewish tradition. They barely hang onto what Judaism is, while introducing all sorts of heinous (and often blasphemous in the eyes of the Jewish community) stuff. They too believe in a modern prophet as well. They call him "the leader" which makes me think of that Simpsons episode where they joined the cult. My dad's mom is fundie Christian. She's much more mellow now, but she used to tell me I was going to hell all the time...until I told her that if I indeed I were to go, I'd make sure to grab her ankle and take her with me. She stopped that mess. I grew up spending my entire weekends at church, trying to avoid home. I saw a lot that confused me. Add to that a few years in Catholic school, and we had quite a conundrum.
My family situation sucked. Still does. Parents split when I was 7, they hated each other by the time I was born, dad didn't claim me, mom didn't want me. I grew up not feeling loved. By the time I was 12 I was ready to die, and I didn't even know what the word suicide was. I believed in God, but as I've told others, back then, God was nothing more than a pretend friend to me, someone I talked to when I was lonely, and refused to believe in when I was scared. God also got put on my sh*t list very early (and forgive me, sensitive ones, my relationship with Him now is so real, that I can say things like that...He already knew what I was thinking back then, I'm just telling the truth of what happened today). I was angry at God for a long time for one, not keeping my family together, two, letting the only people who cared about me die, and three, not stopping my mom's physical abuse. I grew up during the time when society was just coming to grips with the idea of child abuse. They knew what it was, but not always how to deal with it. Not to mention, my mom signed my teachers' paychecks, and they were a bit afraid to cross her.
Needless to say, by the time the church found me, I was all messed up. Angry, lonely, scared. I wanted some place to belong, and that is the ONLY reason the church got a chance. Because despite my problems, I had something called common sense, which is why I'm alive today. I had the common sense to listen to God, and move where He dictated I should. Hence (sorry to burst your happy little bubble, Wade) I put myself in therapy at 14, without the knowledge of my parents, because I knew we had problems, and I had hope for my life. I'm 25 now, and much has changed. In fact, I have changed. Sadly, my family situation has not.
The elders knocked on my door and told me that they wanted to give me a message about Jesus. Now, if you know anything about the church, you will know that in most wards, Jesus plays a back seat. But for many TBMs, the fact that His name is in the name of their church, and the fact that they rush over saying things in his name at the end of a talk or half thought out prayer is enough. I ain't even getting into that.
I told those boys that "God and I have issues". They, as they were trained to do, feigned interest. So I let them in. I explained to them my dismay with modern religions (as I saw them then), with people being cruel in Christ's name, and with racism in church. They nodded their heads (as they'd been trained to do), and began with the first discussion once they had reeled me in. They told me that the church was the true church, and all the problems I had been having with other churches (including racism) would not be a problem in the LDS church.
And I believed them.
Six weeks later, after taking the discussions, I was baptized.
In the beginning, everything was fine. But once the waters of baptism dried off, I was no longer the celebrity, I was just a regular person. And I began to discover, a person who was only good enough to speak to in church.
My background had taken me down many a sad path. One of them took my virginity. One issue I struggled with was constantly having to sit in relief society and hear about how pure all those women were. Not to mention, none of them had the family problems I did. Either that, or they lied. Fast and testimony meeting was just one big brag fest about one's wonderful cookie-baking family, and one's wonderful capitol hill job. I felt so out of place there. I am related to teenage mothers, uneducated people (as in no high school diploma), drug addicts, and people who have been to jail, including a cousin in jail for attempted murder. These folks weren't going to bring me home period, much less home to mom.
I began to notice also, that out of the 500+ singles in our ward, there were no black men (I never attended a ward with an African American man in it, never in five years), and the black females (five total, or was it six?) either dated outside the church or not at all. No one in the church ever asked us out.
I began to get tired of the cultural blandness of the church. Don't get me wrong, but nothing but white people. I was not raised in such an environment. I grew up in an all-white neighborhood, but those people were used to me, and I to them. The white Mormons I dealt with usually didn't know what to do with me. And after a while, the hypocrisy started to shine through. You could tell me that I had a sweet spirit, but you didn't want to get to know that sweet spirit outside of sunday, unless it was within your cultural boundaries.
The people in my initial ward were so weird. They refused to do anything that was considered "modern" or "secular" top 40s music, any movies other than a G rating, hanging with non-LDS simply to do so...none of this went on. And the stake bragged about their righteousness and temple attendance...and they ate it up.
I used to sing in church a lot, but eventually stopped when I was informed that Gospel music was seen to "take away the spirit" (and if you think I'm lying, go onto FAIR and look at Renee Olson's talk), and wasn't allowed except in firesides. I even went so far as to write a letter to the bishop once, explaining why I wanted to sing certain song (because they had meaning, duh), and even giving them my CDs (which I never got back) and a list of lyrics. I was snubbed. I'm sorry, but I'm not using my voice in church just to give someone spiritual indigestion. My voice is a gift from God, and if I can't use it to praise Him, then I don't want to use it.
Onto the race issues:
My mom was quite shocked when I joined the church. As was every black person I encountered of her generation when they found out I was LDS. I didn't know why. My mom's family often said to me, "you joined WHAT church?". I had to repeat myself ad nauseum, I tell you. And I didn't get it at first. I thought mom was on crack when she said the church was against interracial dating, and that they had problems with black people...until I opened my eyes.
The initial shock came when an African man came to our ward. He bore his testimony, and I thought he was cool. Everyone did. But after sacrament, this girl comes up to me and says, "there's someone you can date". I didn't even know what to say to that. But it all started coming together after that.
The single men who would talk to the white woman next to me, but not even meet my gaze half the time. Some of these guys weren't even white! But they weren't black, either.
The fact that my "sistas" in the ward never dated LDS men, and had to look outside the church for love. The few that I know that are still active STILL DO...yet they hang on in misery dreaming of that temple marriage.
The "skins of blackness" passages in the Book of Mormon, that I remember trying to justify with friends of color who were LDS.
Not to mention all that I came across on the internet...including people on ldslinkup.com trying to justify the use of the word "n*gger", just because they'd heard some black people use it. Well I don't, and if you call me that you will get punched. Seriously.
I began to be miserable. You see, I had joined the church out of the need for a family. And I have that in my new church, but they're human there. In the LDS church, I held the dream of the forever family, one that was not going to be like the family I was raised in. After I began to work on my self esteem, I had held to the conviction that I was indeed a good person, even beautiful, and deserving of love. But that never played out in the church. And with every marriage I saw, I became more depressed. Before I finally got my name removed, I would damn near cry every time I saw a woman (who was always white) coming out of the temple in her wedding dress. I knew that would never be me...at least not as a Mormon.
At first, I just asked why things were the way they were. To that, I got responses of "you're a troublemaker", or "you're crazy". One person told me that my problems in the church were due to me explicitly, that I was my own problem. They attacked my morals, my sanity, my spirituality. I was deep in this right before going through the temple. And I was told by many "authorities" that I wasn't prepared to go.
I struggled with the cog dis for a while. If this was the truth, then there was something wrong with me. I hung on because I wanted the church to be true. I wanted the forever family. My temple experience is something I'll always remember as pleasant, because back then I had no peace in my life (home life was awful, stepdad a perv, grooming me for molestation, mom ignoring it for the money). The temple was serene in a way I had never experienced. So I can't scoff at that or anyone who goes there. But I knew I couldn't spend the rest of my life as LDS. I don't belong there.
It took me three years to get my name taken off church records. During that three years, I went in and out of activity, and also had a stint on FAIR, where the final nails were hammered into my LDS coffin.
I got my release letter about two months ago. I'm a happier person.
Part of me wanted to stay and fight, not because I thought the church was true, but because I thought the racism was unfair. But I knew that I'd be fighting closed minds, and I have better things to do.
Maybe in a few generations things will change. But I value myself too much to dwell in an institution that does not value me...except in February for a PR stint. Goodness, I remember singing for their firesides. If I knew then what I know now...
Any questions, just ask. This is really just an "overview". I can't put five years of detail into this one post. Sorry...