We thank thee, oh God.

Welp.

For those who might not be aware of Mormon happenings, you should know two things:
1. Twice yearly the leadership of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints holds a conference that is broadcasted worldwide. Men and women, whom we believe are called of God to speak in His name, give "talks," or sermons, that give instruction on how we can best serve God and others. This past weekend we had this conference, often referred to as General Conference or snuggleonthecouchinyourpajamastime. This is where I learned that,
2. We shouldn't call ourselves Mormons anymore.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm open to any new suggestions for nicknames.


Anyways.

One of the main vibes I was picking up from the conference (and this is just my personal opinion, I'm sure others were feeling other lovely feelings) is this idea that people are being persecuted for their beliefs, and it's important to stand strong and hold fast to your principles. Amiright? And I thought, "Oh! That's me! I feel that way a lot!"

But then there were lots of stories and thoughts shared about those with strong religious convictions who have stood firm in the faith through their trials of challenging "immorality" and other sins, which according to Church leaders are quickly becoming the status quo. Encouragement to not lose hope was given, as well as instruction to lovingly correct others in their paths.

My immediate thoughts were as follows:

....
.....
......

Do my very religious friends and family really feel attacked or persecuted for their beliefs? In what ways? How often?

As a religious minority in my hometown, there were of course instances in which I felt that I need to defend my faith, but for the most part everyone was warm and loving and very tolerant of my "Mormonism." It wasn't until I lived among those who share my faith that I felt any sort of persecution or intolerance (read story here), but that was usually for my political beliefs. Having lived in this environment for the past several years, it was hard for me to imagine while listening to this conference that those who had often said harsh words to me about my beliefs were also feeling like they were constantly defending their faith as well.

And then it hit me.


WE ARE ALL SO STUPID, GUYZ.

Seriously though, do you not see this? Everyone is feeling under attack. Everyone is acknowledging intolerance and a lack of love, no matter what side it's coming from. Everyone is trying to find truth and to live it and to do so without feeling like they constantly have to defend the way they live or why they think the thoughts they think. Everyone is feeling wounded by others' arrows of bitterness, and we're all too concerned about hiding behind the giant fortresses of pride we've built instead of communicating with each other honestly and openly.

Can't we all just go back to being friends? Is it possible to create a safe space where everyone can express themselves and contribute to a loving conversation in which we discuss our differences? Does judgement need to be our constant companion? And can we all have the patience and humility to admit when we're wrong and when we need to adjust our ideas?

Because Jesus.



1 John 4:8
He [or she] that loveth not knowth not God; for God is love. 

ps. Please take note at the "Kittens" poster in the corner. That is not a coincidence.

"Hey, baby!" and other awkward moments.

Man staring at me while I was filling up my car at a gas station: "Hey, baby. Why don't you smile? You're sexy, I bet I'd like your smile."

Me:  --->

                        

Anyone who thinks we don't need feminism or that we're "past it" should try being a woman in public. I can promise you that every woman I've met, whether she claims to be feminist or not, has experienced some form of sexual harassment. On the street, in the workplace, at school, even at home, I repeat: I have never met a woman who hasn't experienced some form of sexual harassment.

Sexual harassment is "unwelcome sexual advances, requests for sexual favors, and other verbal or physical conduct of a sexual nature." This can include various levels of offense, including cat calling, unwanted touching, sexual assault, and even whistling. The UN has a specific list you can find here. This is of course not limited to women - men can be and often are the victims of sexual harassment as well, though the majority of victims are female. Internationally, studies show that between 70-99% of women experience some form of sexual harassment at some point in their lives.

There are a thousand stories I could tell you, stories that belong to me and stories that have been relayed to me by other women. They include (but are not limited to) tales of rape, incest, cat calling, public humiliation, vulgar body motions, verbal abuse, and being stared at in a violating way. It's humiliating, degrading, and offensive. All of these stories have lead to fear, anxiety, and often depression in our lives, and we do not enjoy certain privileges, such as walking alone, day or night, without being on our guard because we're always trying to think of ways to protect ourselves should something happen. These experiences have plagued our lives, and all because we have a vagina.



I could write a book on my thoughts, but I don't have the energy. I guess what I wanted to say is that I'm just tired. I'm tired of this being a part of my life. I'm tired of hearing similar things on the news every single day and things hardly seem to be getting better. I'm tired of people making jokes or blaming the victim. I'M TIRED OF MEN DOING HORRIBLE, DEGRADING THINGS TO WOMEN. Why is this still happening? Why is it still accepted? Why are people standing by, letting it happen without saying something? Why do some find it funny? Why are people not worth more to you?


This is the part where I give you some resources. And you will do something about it.

-Hollaback: A nonproft and movement to end street harassment. http://www.ihollaback.org/
-Buy a "Cats Against Cat Calling" shirt! http://www.feministapparel.com/products/cats-against-catcalls-t-shirt-tanktop-profits-from-this-shirt-go-to-hollaback
-Watch this documentary about Anita Hill: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JN8FDRIy-LE

Any other suggestions?



  

On being a doubting Christian.

"I like your Christ. I do not like your Christians. They are so unlike your Christ." - Gandhi





Anyone who knows me is fully aware of my brash personality. I almost always feel comfortable stating exactly what I'm thinking, I am not easily intimidated, and I have carefully developed very, very strong opinions. Though somewhat unconventional, I have come to really appreciate this about my personality.

I didn't always like this about myself. I was often meant to feel ashamed of having such a "strong" personality, and I was often told if I didn't keep myself in check that I wasn't going to make friends or even find someone to marry. On my LDS mission in Germany, I felt so inadequate when comparing myself to the other sister missionaries - they were all so charming and friendly and smiley. I was sulky and blunt and sometimes rude at best, which made it hard to give the first impressions members were seeking from their beloved sisters.

I eventually came to terms with this. I grew to tolerate it when I felt like I couldn't change myself (and I was very unhappy doing so). Eventually I came to realize that not only does God love me just the way I am, He just might have given me the personality traits that are necessary to broadening His work and addressing people's needs that maybe others wouldn't have been able to do.



During my long journey in finding truth and establishing my beliefs, I have questioned the faith I have grew up in many, many times. Even when I think I "know" enough, I learn something new or think of something in a differently light that makes me feel like I need to start all over again. This is nothing new or unique, and I've addressed these concerns and issues several times in this blog.

These doubts, combined with my rather loud personality, sometimes leads to clashes with other people. Though I have often felt ostracized and hurt by people who define much of their lives by membership in the LDS Church, I would like to state that I have felt more love and concern on my behalf than hate from the people in my life, in and outside of the Church. I do, however, completely understand when people I dearly love choose to remove themselves from religion because of the opinions of a few members. It's hard to be in an environment where you feel more judged than accepted, or more despised than welcome.

Yesterday I had dinner with a friend and her brother, the latter of which is struggling with his beliefs.  We were all raised in the LDS Church and we have all served missions, and because of the balance I've found between commitment to my faith and servicing my doubts, my friend thought that her brother might be interested in speaking with someone who shares a lot of the same thoughts.  We talked for several hours, addressing all of our concerns from women in the church to blacks and the priesthood, from our love of God to our acceptance of LGBT members of our community. It's at moments like this that I feel validated in my personality, and I feel grateful that I am able to be a person that some people feel like they can talk to and sympathize with.

A middle-aged woman sitting nearby, who had apparently been eavesdropping on our conversation with her teenage daughter, suddenly stood up and made her way over to our booth. Addressing me, she asked, "So, you served a mission for the church?" Surprised, I responded in the affirmative. "Well," she smirked, "you wouldn't know by the way you talk." She grabbed her glass of water, dumped it all over me, and walked away.


I would like to address a personal note, not only to this woman, but to people in the Church who have tendencies like her.

Madame,

I'm sorry you walked away so quickly after drenching me with your water, much to the surprise of the people around you. I wanted to talk to you and tell you that I'm sorry you were so offended by my personal opinions. I'm sorry that you are so angry about a private conversation between personal friends in which I openly talked about things that are hard for me to understand, and which seem to be in direct conflict with my affiliation with the LDS Church. I'm sorry that you felt no other way to express your feelings than by assaulting a stranger.

If you had listened more carefully, you would have heard me share my testimony of God and His love for us. You would have heard me expressing the decision I've made to stay in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, despite questions that I consistently ask myself and Church leaders. You might have heard about the pain and hurt I and my friends have felt because of the actions of members. You might have been invited to be a productive part of the conversation, offering your opinions and sharing your faith as well. But most importantly, you would have realized that someone at that table is seriously questioning their activity in the Church, and your actions have done more harm than good in that respect.

I'm not quite sure what you meant to accomplish by making me feel unloved, unwanted, and misunderstood. Do you want me to stay away from church activities? Because if that's the case, I can assure you, you have fueled a fire in me that makes me want to bust open the doors of every church building in America and hug all the misfits, the marginalized, and the questioning. I will continue to attend church in order for people like you to know that not only do I belong, but so does every. single. person. on this planet, if that's what they want.

I'd like to recommend the New Testament as some light reading. It's quite enjoyable, and if you apply some of the principles the main character taught I think you might come to value diversity and learn how to love. But what do I know, I'm just a returned missionary that doesn't talk like one.

Sincerely,

Me.

Ps. These are some members of the Church in one of the German cities I served in. They weren't active when I first met them, and they were too embarrassed to come to church for fear they wouldn't fit in. After meeting with them regularly, answering their hard questions (questions that I have had to ask many times) and sharing my limited faith, they decided to come back and work towards the blessings of the temple. I just wanted you to see the faces of some of the people I loved on my mission, people who told me they were "endlessly grateful" for helping them with their concerns and showing them that God loves them regardless of their past, present, or future.

DTR

Dear America,

You are pretty great. I don't say that very often because sometimes I'm upset with your politics. But it's true, you have some really great qualities. For starters, you're pretty attractive. I mean, Yellowstone? That's one hot piece of land you got there. And don't even get me started on the California Redwoods. Mmm.

I appreciate your role in the arts. Your role in the development of theater and the cinema are tremendous, though I have to admit you've been slacking in recent years. Just saying. But your contributions are indeed incredible, nobody can deny that. American art and literature will also always hold a place in my heart, and don't even get me started on jazz. Jazz is by far the greatest thing you have ever given to this earth and has saved probably saved our relationship on many an occasion.

Again, you're pretty great. I don't know how else to say this, but...I think we need a break. Maybe a more permanent one. I know, I know, I've been dragging this on for a while. We should have just ended things right after I left you for Germany, but I wasn't sure how that would end up. I mean, I did go back to France like five months later, so if that's any indication...

Anyway. I don't mean to hurt you, it's me not you. I just don't think we're going to work out, that's all. I would love to be friends, and I think it would be great if we had lunch every once in a while (I mean, we've been together for so long, how could we just break it off?). I just don't think we'll make each other happy anymore.

I love you. I've always loved you, and I'll never forget you. I hope you understand.

Love,

Me.

Sharing hilarity.

I'm going to take a break from writing about heavy subjects that tear your soul apart and just brag about my family for a bit.

I have the best family in the world. And no, you cannot contest that. It's just the truth and you have to accept it.

I'd like to think I have an amusing sense of humor. I like to make people laugh and it's gotten me out of many a potentially awkward situation. I learned these skills, as most do, from my family. My mother, almost always smiling and lighting up the room with her bubbly personality, loves to make people feel welcome. This is most assuredly done through making people laugh. My father, less outgoing but surprisingly talkative when you get him on the right subjects, has a secretly dark sense of humor. My childhood memories of my daddy include, but are not limited to: learning to sing the "fart" song whenever beans were served with dinner, begging Dad to do the napkin face (he put a napkin on his face and stuck his tongue through it - why we loved it, I don't know), hearing our names being substituted for the evil people in the Bible and Book of Mormon whenever Dad read aloud to us, and staying up late to watch the show Max X. I've never heard my dad laugh so hard than when watching people get seriously hurt doing incredibly stupid things.

Needless to say, my siblings and I soaked in the influences of my parents - my mother's ability to target an individual's sense of humor and adapt the conversation to make them feel at ease, and my father's taste for somewhat indecent and justifiably hilarious things in life. It could easily be said that this combination has produced one of the most hilarious and awesome families ever to exist on the planet.

And so. I was emailing back and forth with my brother Mitch yesterday. I would like to share this conversation with you, mostly because a) I find it hilarious and I want to share it with the whole world and b) you need to understand how amazing my brother is.


WARNING: If you like Nascar and/or are from the South, this might offend you.



Me: I'm supposed to be looking up the top magazines for NASCAR fans for my job right now. WHO DEDICATES WHOLE MAGAZINES TO THIS STUFF.

Mitch: There's more than one magazine for NASCAR?? Wtf? It's probably pretty enlightening I guess. 
"I only get these NASCAR magazines for the.... articles..."

Me: I hate motor sports. They are so dumb. Seriously, how can this be one of the most popular sports in the world?

Mitch: Cause it's waay cool. Think about it- they go reaaaally fast. Also... beer.

Me: And the occasional boom boom. Nothing like a good car crash to make me want to drink more beer and love my life. 

Mitch: "WOW! It's so loud! Did you see tha- HEY, why doesn't my liver work?"

Me: "One beer for every lap!"

100 laps later...

"Uhhhsldnnskla;skjvienskladslkj!!!"

200 laps later...

Dead.

Mitch: I drink beer during nascar races because I don't get dizzy enough when I'm sober. 

Hey, wanna go shoot something afterwards?

Me: You mean dem hippies? Ja.

Mitch: Correction: Dam hippies. Dam mexicanos. Dam nigroes. 'member the confederation? Thems was good days.

Me: Them good days wen we had all dem der cotton. An now I cain't get up off dis dam porch. Dam yankees took all the moneys there wuz. 

Mitch: Slavry was a good thing two. It's in the Bible somewer.

Me: Yer got that right mister. Hey, pass the butter why don't ya? I ain't got enuf here on my butter cake.

Mitch: y'aint gonna deep fry that sucker first?

Me: I alredy done deep fried the butter and sugar befur I made the cake. And I put in dem friend pickles you like so much.

Mitch: thank'ya's'much darlin. you're the best fieansay/close relative I ever dun did have (toothless grin)

Me: I think nows the time to tell ya dat one of them chickens done peed on yur truck. Mind ya, I wus fit to be tied. But I cain't get that stain off. 

Mitch: S'aright. Times a'comin for a new 'n besides. i thnks i seed a new one at the junk'ard anyhows. Just give the yold'n to Jeheremihuh. Jethrow and I'll get the other'n after t'mar's nascar match

Me: I can't keep up with you. You're too good at this.

Mitch: Well you know... lots of practice. What else do you think we did at scout camp for 5 years?

You're welcome.

Pretty.

"You're really pretty."

I roll my eyes and take a deep breath. "Thanks," my obligatory response.

"No, you're like...really pretty."



The bathroom at the residence I'm staying at here in Paris has two incredibly large mirrors that almost take up the entire wall on opposite sides. The shower, which is in fact not a shower but a bathtub with an extension shower head, has no curtains. Every time I bathe, I am forced to stare at myself. All of myself.

It's a horrible experience, I can assure you.

And it's horrible because for as long as I can remember, I have struggled to appreciate one of the most precious gifts God has given me - my body. Feelings of anger, frustration, self-consciousness, and sometimes even hate have crippled my ability to see anything good of the 120 pounds of mass that I posses.

It's hard to say where these feelings come from. Society? Culture? Other's comments? Media? Mental illness? Satan? Maybe it stems from all of those factors, I'm not sure. I used to want to figure it out, but I've passed that point. Now, I just want it to stop. I want to stop being angry and frustrated and self-conscious and hateful. I want to stop being that feminist that advocates self-confidence and respect for ourselves but can't walk past the magazine stand without secretly wishing to even slightly resemble those photoshopped faces. I want to know what all those people know who believe their bodies are precious and special and love themselves just the way they are.

I want people to stop telling me I'm beautiful only on days when I'm wearing makeup or during those long stretches of time when I won't allow myself to eat over 1200 calories a day. Actually, I just want to stop feeling like I need to hear those messages all together.

I've heard the "You're really pretty" thing a hundred times, from strangers and close friends. I'm probably going to hear it a hundred more times. And the thing is, whether or not it comes from a place of love or pity or honesty, I'll probably never really listen. Not because people don't mean it, but because I don't believe it myself.

But every time I hear a,
"You're really smart."
"Wow, you're super talented!"
"Thank you for being so kind."
"You're a good friend, do you know that?"
my heart leaps a little. Sincere affirmations make me want to be a better person and to do good things. They help me to forget, if even for just a moment, that it's my soul I want to love and to be loved, not only the imperfect body that houses it.

I want less pressure to look beautiful and more encouragement to be beautiful.

I want to be more concerned with remembering to tell someone I love them than with trying to remember how many calories I consumed. I want find happiness in long walks, prayers, and music, not in the latest style trends, lipstick colors, and imitation of fake images. I don't even know if I want to learn how to love my body as much as I want to learn how to govern my life by the things that matter most.

My body is important, and I'm very grateful for it. I am grateful that God has allowed me to be strong and healthy. I will probably always struggle to hold it to God's standards instead of the world's or my own, but that is just something to learn I guess.







[I've shared this before, but I'm going to do it again because it's the best. So watch it. Now.]


The end.

 

Yolo.

Just so you know, I've got another blog going on while I'm in Paris. Check it out if you want ------> HERE.

Cool.