A tale of two sects - part 3
I’m sorry this is late, I’ve been sick. In the first installment, I posed the question: “Why do former Samaritans make new Samaritans?”
Speaking of this regarding Mormons, what I’ve asked is more than just a simple personal question, it’s a complex political issue. I’ve had a variety of positive experiences with Mormons as friendly people, but I’ve also had a variety of negative experiences with Mormons as not particularly nice people.
I think back now to the way the world seemed to me years ago, when I was just starting to feel that I had a right to be angry, to disagree with authority, to say that my individual experiences had worth. I still think that process was central in making me who I am today and I honestly believe everyone needs some version of it.
But I remember being out of control with anger. The world seemed like it was falling apart, and authority figures - from the father figure the state was trying to force on me to the Commander in Chief that seemed intent on forcing himself on the state - seemed to be gleefully adding to the trouble. The idea of state authority became something I had a problem with. The idea of any sort of a conversation with the people who didn’t seem remotely concerned with basic human rights became something I had a problem with. I stopped thinking that basic decency needed to convince people that it was basic decency and should instead promote itself, violently if need be.
I still think thoughts like that from time to time, but I’ve since realized that to some extent, I was recreating the hegemony. I was angry at anti-feminist forces in society, and unleashed my invective on anyone who seemed suspect. I stopped caring too much about how I was judging entire groups, or the fact that I was only judging entire groups some of the time - I was smart enough to realize that Christian was a broad category and it didn’t make any sense to treat every Christian as a homophobe or a sexist. But among the groups I did start to think of as wholes, without individuality and therefore held in a position of collective responsibility were Mormons.
I said things, things I wish I could take back, about how Mormons, without a qualifier, were in one way or another bad people. I’d seen how frequently obliquely referenced social codes had infiltrated courtrooms and other halls of alleged equality before the law - harming my parents for their gender and sexuality. I lay this at the feet of the patriarchy, the nebulous “conservative Christian”. In panicked thoughts, he went by many names - Christian reconstructionist, dominionist, and sometimes even Mormon.
I was so privileged that I’m still reeling from shame. I said reprehensible things about Mormons, all the Mormons, as if that category has much meaning, without realizing that some of the people awkwardly witnessing my hostility were Mormon themselves, unbeknownst to me.
Looking back on my life, I understand something now. It’s always important to know that oppression won’t always be obvious. Sometimes the people who face persecution aren’t saints. Sometimes they have done some things wrong. Sometimes they can seem to stand for everything disgusting and wrong and unclean. But they’re still human - and I will guarantee you, most of them are trying in a wide variety of ways to be more or less the same type of person that you aspire to be.
I think I started to understand this in India. It’s important to see Mormons (and other off-the-beaten-path Christian sects) as individuals, some of whom could very likely share your feminist ideals. Let’s look for allies, who can respect our beliefs and find common ground, before we start talking war. Let’s not reduce Mormons to a singular and an enemy we must oppose. Let’s see their faces and talk to them before deciding that every single one can never be trusted, for they are Mormons.
Let’s be the people we want to be.
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This is the third of a three part series on Mormons and my experiences with them as a unitarian. The first one is here. The second one is here.
Throughout this series I use the term Mormon, which I’ve sometimes been told is derogatory. More recently I have known self-identifying Mormons to use it without treating it as potentially offensive, so I’ve adopted that practice. I apologize if anyone finds it upsetting, my intention was not to offend.
Speaking of this regarding Mormons, what I’ve asked is more than just a simple personal question, it’s a complex political issue. I’ve had a variety of positive experiences with Mormons as friendly people, but I’ve also had a variety of negative experiences with Mormons as not particularly nice people.
I think back now to the way the world seemed to me years ago, when I was just starting to feel that I had a right to be angry, to disagree with authority, to say that my individual experiences had worth. I still think that process was central in making me who I am today and I honestly believe everyone needs some version of it.
But I remember being out of control with anger. The world seemed like it was falling apart, and authority figures - from the father figure the state was trying to force on me to the Commander in Chief that seemed intent on forcing himself on the state - seemed to be gleefully adding to the trouble. The idea of state authority became something I had a problem with. The idea of any sort of a conversation with the people who didn’t seem remotely concerned with basic human rights became something I had a problem with. I stopped thinking that basic decency needed to convince people that it was basic decency and should instead promote itself, violently if need be.
I still think thoughts like that from time to time, but I’ve since realized that to some extent, I was recreating the hegemony. I was angry at anti-feminist forces in society, and unleashed my invective on anyone who seemed suspect. I stopped caring too much about how I was judging entire groups, or the fact that I was only judging entire groups some of the time - I was smart enough to realize that Christian was a broad category and it didn’t make any sense to treat every Christian as a homophobe or a sexist. But among the groups I did start to think of as wholes, without individuality and therefore held in a position of collective responsibility were Mormons.
I said things, things I wish I could take back, about how Mormons, without a qualifier, were in one way or another bad people. I’d seen how frequently obliquely referenced social codes had infiltrated courtrooms and other halls of alleged equality before the law - harming my parents for their gender and sexuality. I lay this at the feet of the patriarchy, the nebulous “conservative Christian”. In panicked thoughts, he went by many names - Christian reconstructionist, dominionist, and sometimes even Mormon.
I was so privileged that I’m still reeling from shame. I said reprehensible things about Mormons, all the Mormons, as if that category has much meaning, without realizing that some of the people awkwardly witnessing my hostility were Mormon themselves, unbeknownst to me.
Looking back on my life, I understand something now. It’s always important to know that oppression won’t always be obvious. Sometimes the people who face persecution aren’t saints. Sometimes they have done some things wrong. Sometimes they can seem to stand for everything disgusting and wrong and unclean. But they’re still human - and I will guarantee you, most of them are trying in a wide variety of ways to be more or less the same type of person that you aspire to be.
I think I started to understand this in India. It’s important to see Mormons (and other off-the-beaten-path Christian sects) as individuals, some of whom could very likely share your feminist ideals. Let’s look for allies, who can respect our beliefs and find common ground, before we start talking war. Let’s not reduce Mormons to a singular and an enemy we must oppose. Let’s see their faces and talk to them before deciding that every single one can never be trusted, for they are Mormons.
Let’s be the people we want to be.
--------------
This is the third of a three part series on Mormons and my experiences with them as a unitarian. The first one is here. The second one is here.
Throughout this series I use the term Mormon, which I’ve sometimes been told is derogatory. More recently I have known self-identifying Mormons to use it without treating it as potentially offensive, so I’ve adopted that practice. I apologize if anyone finds it upsetting, my intention was not to offend.