TW: Domestic violence, language
Continue reading “Abroad and Abused: One Woman’s Journey toward Empowerment”
READER POST: The spring after I turned 21, I took on the task of teaching myself Polish by listening to language cassette tapes, writing down terms, and practicing. My husband and I were moving to Poland for a month, where he had served an LDS mission. Because he spoke fluent Polish, he helped me with vocabulary. I made sure to ask him how to say, “Help me.” He quickly answered, “Jestem kurwa.” I added it to my list. Learning Polish and traveling back to his mission area were efforts to strengthen my marriage. I wanted a healthy marriage so badly and the truth was that my marriage was in distress.
READER POST: Several years ago, we met a family through our LDS church. We immediately hit it off and, since they were looking for a new place to live, they moved next door to us. Now we attended the same ward and lived next door to each other, but nothing worked out how we had hoped.
Continue reading “When the Friend of My Enemy is My Friend”
Sisters take care of each other, watch out for each other, comfort each other, and are there for each other through thick and thin. ~ Bonnie L. Oscarson
READER POST: I was in a toxic, abusive marriage. I felt profoundly alone because no one knew about my struggles as a betrayed and abused wife. I’d been thrown into murky waters without a life raft, so I clung to Brene Brown’s challenge to dare greatly. I forced myself to be truer to what I was feeling, experiencing, and thinking. I knew I needed human connection even though it’d require a vulnerability I feared, so I looked to the safest place I knew: the sisterhood in my Relief Society. Surely my sisters would lift me if I mustered enough courage to tell them I was being abused. I was wrong.
Continue reading “A Betrayal in My Religious Sisterhood”
TW: racism against black children
READER POST: My husband, Jeff, and I are white and two of our daughters are black, both teenagers. Until recently, we’ve lived in St. Anthony in southern Idaho. My girls have been quiet sometimes, feisty sometimes. They’ve argued sometimes and stayed silent sometimes. They’ve told their school teachers, administrators, church leaders, and therapists about the racism that has happened to them in their school and community. Without exception, every single one of those they have gone to (all white) about the racism they were experiencing—including their therapists—has told them that they are making too big a deal of: Continue reading “Mother of Mixed Race Family Decries Racism in her Town”
TW: transphobia, brief mention of self harm
READER POST: I file into the restaurant with my beautiful (and often difficult) children. I gave birth to several boys—all gangly limbs, misplaced aggression, anxieties, and intense grudges. But they’re mine, and I love them, though maybe I regret this particular dinner decision. As we wait beside the Christmas tree, I notice the host is staring at my oldest with a puzzled look, one that feels judgmental and borders on disgust. For my oldest child holds a deep secret that only we know: a hard, life-changing, devastating, and beautiful secret. With this look my firstborn is receiving from a stranger, I realize his secret is becoming less so. For my oldest “son” is a girl. Continue reading “Love and Respect My Trans Child as if Your Own”
READER SUBMISSION: My young family lived in poverty for years, but we attended church in a very wealthy area in Arizona. Our church arranges for everyone in the congregation to receive member ministers whose purpose is to make monthly in-home visits. These visits are both a well-being check and an opportunity to share a spiritual message. One day close to Christmas, my visiting minister (who lived much more comfortably than we did) called and asked if she could stop by. On her visit earlier in the month, she’d noticed our “Christmas tree” had been cut out of cardboard I found in a dumpster and taped to the wall, its ornaments drawn on with crayons. Our stockings were made out of old shirts, sewed together with yarn.
She brought her three grandchildren with her on this extra monthly visit—and a truck full of gifts for my toddlers. One of the grandchildren looked around our apartment in awe and asked, “Is this a hotel room?” We lived in a small, two bedroom apartment, but it was a normal apartment and didn’t look like a hotel. He certainly wasn’t to blame for his naive comment, but it was obvious he had never been inside an apartment before. Continue reading “A Story of Christmas Charity and the Gift of Humiliation”
READER POST: Earlier this week, in a leadership session of LDS General Conference, Pres. Oaks said some really hurtful things about queer people. He’s ignorant and his statements were factually incorrect, scientifically speaking.
This is not the exception for Pres. Oaks or other members of LDS leadership, including Pres. Nelson, who also made really harmful statements in a BYU address recently. Because members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints view these men as speaking for God, their opinion, however hurtful and incorrect it is, carries a lot of weight. It can do a lot of good, and it can do a lot of harm. Continue reading “The Hard Work of Zion Building”
When it comes to women’s issues in the culture surrounding the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, none is more heart-rending or important than the issue of suicide. This READER POST carries a needful CONTENT WARNING for SUICIDE. –SQ
Reaching for You
I would hold your hand,
brush the hair from your brow,
sing your lullaby while my tears fall on your head.
But you, enshrouded in hospital blue,
smile and say it’s fine.
And not to worry,
that you should be out
Maybe in a week.
Maybe when the scars have healed.
I reach for your hand
the hand I held when you were small,
before we knew
the demon in your mind would control those hands,
would hold the pills and
one two three four
swallow swallow swallow
when my hand, so far away, couldn’t stop yours in time.
Continue reading “Reaching for You”
READER POST: Mormons sometimes behave as if the only music God listens to is theirs. But those dirge-like hymns that say “reverence’” to some say “pack up the Cheerios and iPads because we’ve successfully survived one hour” to others. At times, some of us just don’t feel the Holy Spirit testifying. As a missionary, our area was chastised by a visiting general authority for marching while we sang “Called to Serve,” and you don’t even want to know what he said about the lyrical drum roll we added to the bridge. Bless Emma, but if she had to do it all over again, and if she had access to the array of spiritual music we have today, would she do it differently? I have a couple of suggestions, in case she’s listening.
Continue reading “Climbing Higher Mountains”
READER POST: Across the grassy park, I see a cousin I haven’t seen for six years. I shout her name and run toward her. She looks up, shakes off a child who’s clinging to her hand, and we meet in a fierce embrace, laughing and crying. I feel safe–here–in the middle of my chaotic family reunion, where I am linked to everyone, including those I barely remember or have never met, linked just as surely as I hold onto this beloved cousin I’ve known since birth. Continue reading “Generations Bound by Love and Sugar”