Coming out of my closet

Have you guys seen this TED talk from Ash Beckham? You should watch it before you read my post. :)



"All a closet is, is a hard conversation."

I think most agnostic Mormons have probably been in a closet to one degree or another. I'm a really open, "take me as I am" kind of person, but even I lived in an agnostic closet for a few years. When my husband and I first stopped attending church, we didn't tell anyone outside of our immediate families (and "telling" might be a strong word for what we really did with our families, which was more like just letting it spread) for about two years. We didn't tell some of our very closest friends. For TWO YEARS. I didn't openly discuss it with my best friend--who also happens to be my sister-in-law--for THREE YEARS.

It wasn't because we were ashamed. I've never been ashamed of my status in the church, whatever it has been. It was because of what Ash Beckham says--we were nervous about our friends' reactions. Now, I have never been friends with the kinds of Mormons who would cut off their relationship with me over beliefs. I tend not to choose a-holes for my friends. So I wasn't afraid of losing my friends. But I think I was afraid that their opinions of me would change. Indeed, I believe many opinions of me did change, if only a little bit. Some of my friends actually looked up to me, especially in high school when I was super duper righteous. I was nervous about the letdown.

I was also nervous about how people would judge the testimony that I had lost, the one that they had admired. I was afraid of people judging my old faith as insufficient or unauthentic. My previous faith was genuine and that genuineness was important to me. I didn't want it questioned.

I was afraid of people's assumptions about my reasons for leaving the church. Mormons have a tendency to assume that you're sinning--or want to be sinning--if you choose to leave. I was afraid that everyone would think I was that weak and shallow. As if I would throw away the very structure of my life, something that formed me, something i loved, something I had dedicated actual years of my life to building up...so that I could drink a margarita every now and then? I don't think so.

The other assumption people like to make about those who leave the church is that they were somehow offended. I was afraid that my friends might think I was that petty. First of all, I really don't get offended that easily to begin with. But mostly, again, I wouldn't throw away something important to me over something someone ELSE did. I like to believe my character is stronger than that.

I think I wanted to avoid people's efforts to reactivate me and the inevitability of them praying for me. I didn't want anyone to try to resolve my concerns. I didn't want anyone's sympathy (come on, you know Mormons feel bad for people who have "lost their light"). I just wanted to believe what I believed and live how I wanted to live. And I wanted my friendships to go on as they were before, unaffected by my loss of faith in a gospel that played a role in most of my relationships.

But they were affected, because I felt like a liar. I was lying to my friends. I was letting them believe something that was no longer true. And just like Ash says, a closet is no place for a person to live. I didn't like tip toeing around certain topics for fear that I might have to fess up.

So I slowly started telling people. Facebook really helped. I got brave and posted  my "religious views" on it (you know, back when it had that option). At the time, I think I classified my views as "agnostic deist". I later abandoned the deist part. Some of my friends asked me about it, and I was happy to tell them my story. I despise feeling misunderstood (hence my blog all about explaining myself).

Most people were quiet about it. I assumed there were conversations. "So, did you hear Adrienne is inactive??? I can't believe that!" And maybe there was speculation about "what happened". Or maybe none of that happened and I'm just incredibly narcissistic. Yeah, probably none of that happened. But I've heard comments and conversations like that about other people, so I wondered if people were having those conversations about me.

And you know what? I had to shrug my shoulders. What else was I going to do? I was being authentic. Honest. Me. I can't apologize for that. And it felt better than living in my agnostic closet.

I like how Ash gives people the benefit of the doubt when they react to her. Starting with the little girl in the diner, and on to her parents' friends at her sister's wedding, when people are trying to understand her or be supportive, she accepts that graciously, because she's accepting their intentions, regardless of the awkward expression of those intentions. The little girl just wanted to know if she was a boy or a girl. Her parents' friends just wanted to tell her, "Hey, we accept you and love you, even though you're telling us something that we know you were afraid to tell us, and even though maybe this information makes us a little uncomfortable. We love you. We accept you."

I really believe that most people in our lives will react like this when we come out of our closets. They accept us. They love us. They try to express that in whatever awkward ways they can muster. They might be uncomfortable. They might even be devastated. But once they recover from that (which, admittedly, can take some time), if they're being totally honest, I think even they are happy to have us living out in the open.

And then our relationships can become as authentic as we are.

When I finally brought it up with my best friend (of 20 years!), she was so relieved that I did. Obviously she knew everything (since she's also my sister-in-law--remember that letting it spread thing?), and it kind of hurt her that I had never brought it up, that I hadn't opened up that part of myself to her. She didn't want to make me uncomfortable, though, so she just waited for me. She was, of course, incredibly accepting. And I was surprised by how much she really understood where I was coming from. Our relationship finally went back to being truly authentic, and it was so refreshing. Oh, and it wasn't as different as I feared it would be.

Unfortunately, some people may not react with love, acceptance, or understanding. That's their problem. It might be difficult for us and it might make relationships hard, but it's their issue. All we can offer to any relationship is ourselves--our real selves. If someone rejects that, then they reject it. But you can't have a real relationship that involves fake people.

Are you Mormon?

"Are you Mormon?"

Simple enough question, right? You either are or you aren't.

Right?

Right???

Wrong.

"Oh, you're from Utah? So, are you Mormon?" can be an incredibly complicated question. I've chatted with many a non-believing, non-ex Mormon about this question. Clearly it's not just me who feels uneasy about it, so let's chat.

I've been through three stages of Mormon identity.

Stage 1 comprised the first 25 years of my life. That's when the answer was simple. "Are you Mormon?" Um, yes. Duh.

Stage 2 consists of the six years I was completely inactive.  I lived in Utah for most of this period, so answering in the affirmative definitely gave the wrong impression. Saying yes would imply that I was going to church every Sunday, wearing my garments, reading my scriptures, etc. But saying no would imply that I didn't have any relationship with the church, and that was obviously not true. It made me feel like I was hiding something, and I wasn't. I was never ashamed of my inactivity. I finally settled on something along the lines of, "Well, yes, technically, but I'm not currently active."

My husband was going to the University of Utah during some of that time (the dirty U!), and he would totally answer no. That bothered me! I felt like he was denying his upbringing or something. I don't know, it just hurt me that he wanted to ignore any relationship at all with this church that formed him, and frankly, is and always will be a huge part of who we are as a couple. He has since become a little more comfortable with his Mormon upbringing and he can just answer, "I was raised Mormon." On the East Coast, nobody bats an eye at that answer. Back here, pretty much everyone's answer to questions of religious identity is, "I was raised [blank]." I think that answer would even work in Utah. People would get the idea.

Stage 3 is where I'm at now. I've come to realize that I almost can't become un-Mormon any more than I can become un-Italian. It's just what I am, regardless of my actual religious beliefs. So sometimes I just answer yes. Because you know what? I AM Mormon. My name is on the rolls and I know a thing or two about the church's doctrines, practices, culture, etc.  I have also started telling people that I'm an agnostic Mormon. It is AWESOME. People are obviously fascinated by the idea and I think it has actually been good for people to see that Mormons aren't as homogeneous as they're made out to be. It sums me up perfectly, because my beliefs are agnostic, but culturally, I am very much a Mormon.

Ultimately, I think this is a very personal question. I'm curious how all of my blog friends with similar faith issues answer it.

The Book of Mormon Girl



Do you all know Joanna Brooks? She blogs at Ask Mormon Girl and regularly contributes to Religion Dispatches and the Washington Post, among other things. Most importantly, she was interviewed by Jon Stewart last year, so...she's legit. Anyway, I read her memoir, The Book of Mormon Girl, awhile ago and I just wanted to share my thoughts about it here.

I love Joanna Brooks for her courage, both to question AND to embrace Mormonism. It seems like most Mormons choose one or the other: criticism or total endorsement, rejection or complete acceptance, bitterness or unquestioning devotion. I'm so happy--and encouraged--to have a Mormon voice to unite those of us who cannot accept all of Mormonism, and yet want it to be a part of our lives. Because, as Brooks points out, it IS a part of who we are, regardless of how we react to it. On page 159, she...moreI love Joanna Brooks for her courage, both to question AND to embrace Mormonism. It seems like most Mormons choose one or the other: criticism or total endorsement, rejection or complete acceptance, bitterness or unquestioning devotion. I'm so happy--and encouraged--to have a Mormon voice to unite those of us who cannot accept all of Mormonism, and yet want it to be a part of our lives. Because, as Brooks points out, it IS a part of who we are, regardless of how we react to it. On page 159, she talks about her grandmother, who grew up in Garland, Utah, in a Mormon environment where her parents had a coffee pot on the stove and "people weren't as strict about rules or doctrine, but still taught the gospel as it should be taught, and who else were they to be anyways but Mormons? Who else in all the world were we supposed to be?" As someone who spent six years away from the church, all the while missing it and loving it but finding myself unable to reconcile my own beliefs with it, this really spoke to me. Who else in all the world am I supposed to be but a Mormon girl? For orthodox Mormons, this sounds bad, but most of me wants Mormonism simply because it is MY tradition. It's what I was born into. It's the culture I know. It's not something I necessarily believe is "true". But I don't care about that. It makes me happy. Belonging to it makes me happy. The first part of the book was a fun read for both myself and my jack Mormon husband. We had a great time reliving the Mormon quirkiness that defined our upbringing. The second half is just heart breaking. But I love that Brooks has found a way to make this thing work for her. It's a process I have been through myself (though my own issues with the church may not be exactly the same as hers). Oh, the last chapter. So lovely. "What do we do with ourselves when we find we have failed to become the adults we dreamed as pious children?....How do we react when we discover at the core of faith a knot of contradictions? Do we throw it all out?....Do we blame our parents?....I don't want to blame anyone. I want to do what my ancestors did: look west and dream up a new country for my children. I don't want to blame anyone. I just want to tell my story. Because the tradition is young, and the next chapter is yet to be written. And ours may yet be a faith that is big enough for all of our stories." I think all of us unorthodox Mormons NEED to tell our stories. We need to have the courage to be honest about our testimonies (or lack thereof), so that everyone out there who has similar concerns or reservations or the same lack of testimony will feel like there is room for them in this tradition, instead of walking away because they can't give everything to it. We can embrace the church even if we can't embrace it all at once.