Pandemic Love #12: For Time and All Eternity
By Guest Host Sarah Hiatt
How are you doing? Submit your questions to Pandemic Love here!
We’re taking a break from responding to questions in this issue to offer something new from someone else’s perspective. Recently, I posted an Instagram story asking people to share experiences of sexual education from their youth. One person’s response ended in “...I could write an entire essay about this.” So I asked, “Do you want to?”
Introducing a piece by Sarah Hiatt that details her conflicting experience growing up in the Mormon church, navigating the thick fog of shame surrounding sexuality, gender, and pleasure.
If you would like to be a guest contributor to Pandemic Love, we’ve added a section to our submission form where you can send in proposals! And as always, feel free to continue submitting your questions on love and sexuality.
- Jeanne Donegan
FADE IN:
INT. BEDROOM - SOUTHWEST MISSOURI - SUNSET
SARAH (12), overweight and tall for her age. Bushy, tangled brown hair is pushed back from a pimply forehead with one of those toothy headbands.
A cassette tape plays GENIE IN A BOTTLE by CHRISTINA AGUILERA recorded from VH1 in the background. Sarah flips on the light, a rotating dolphin lamp she got in the front section of SPENCER’S at the mall; the back section of the store was off-limits. The year was 2000. A kid from school just told her what masturbation meant. She suddenly realized she had been doing that for years.
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Channel 25 is Nickelodeon, but MTV is channel 24. This is convenient for me as I switch between the two when no one is looking. I grew up in a media-heavy household with a cooler older sister and a loving, liberal mother. There weren’t any men living in the household - my mom was the sole provider.
Her, and the TV.
The television was on constantly. Events I vividly remember watching: Nancy Kerrigan getting clubbed, “I did not have sexual relations with that woman,” Celine Dion performing “My Heart Will Go On” at the 1998 Academy Awards, and Ellen Degeneres coming out on her self-titled TV show. My mom worked from home. My sister, a decade older than me, was either at school or doing teen stuff. Tommy Pickles, the Olsen twins, Katie Couric and Bryant Gumbel were all part of a TV Guide-sized list of my broadcast babysitters.
Rules regarding what I was allowed to watch were pretty loose. Absolutely nothing R-rated - except for The Bodyguard with Whitney Houston for some reason. PG-13 was alright sometimes. I had to convince my mom to let me watch Forrest Gump at a sleepover. She said, “you can decide for yourself, but remember you have to live with the consequences [guilt].” Friends was okay to watch. (I think because mom liked watching it, too.) In fact, I was borderline obsessed. I would tape every episode and save magazine clippings. I wrote the cast a letter and got a postcard back that said Best Wishes, from your Friends. I had a bulletin board above my bed in a room I shared with my mom for a few years. Looking back, I absolutely masked a crush I had on Jennifer Aniston with cutouts of her and Brad Pitt. I learned what porn was through this show. I kept thinking they were saying the word “corn” until somebody corrected me.
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INT. GARAGE - SOUTHWEST MISSOURI - DAY
Sarah (6), overweight and tall for her age. Bushy brown hair is neatly pulled back into a ponytail and her bangs are fresh with hairspray. An oversized tee hangs just above the seam of a pair of UMBRO shorts. She runs barefoot into the cold, grey garage where MOM is sitting in the car with the window rolled down.
SARAH
Mom, mom, mom!
MOM
Sarah, where are your shoes? Do you want to come to the store?
SARAH
No, I have a question!
MOM
(hurried)
What?
SARAH
What does “gay” mean?
MOM
(sighs)
Oh, Sarah, you’ll know when you’re older.
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I remember this scene so clearly. The way the cold garage floor felt on my bare feet. The feeling of confusion while wondering how old is older? I’m not really sure how much time passed between me asking that question and my cousin telling me gay meant “two boys kissing.” I never had that conversation with my mom when I was older. Not about the word “gay” and certainly not about sex. As I grew up, my knowledge of these things came from television and the playground.
I was going to say “I think” my mom kept those discussions at a distance, because we were active in the Mormon church. But, really, I know that’s why. Love and acceptance towards the LGBTQ+ community are not the first things that come to mind when one thinks of Mormons. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormons) has actively voiced their stance on “same-sex attraction,” and even worked to have the definition of marriage changed in legislature. (Ex: Proposition 8) But, what I was being taught at home from my democrat mother was different from the lessons I received at church on Sundays. She was a loud democrat, too. Which was an anomaly in the Ozarks in the 1990s, but even more so inside the Mormon church.
When I was 16 or 17, I remember sitting next to my mom during a church service. A man at the podium was talking about the “good ol’ days” and “my, how society has changed.” My mom leaned over to me and whispered in my ear “Those good ol’ days weren’t so good for women or Black people.” (The Church famously didn’t allow Black members to become baptized or partake of any of their secret ceremonies until 1978.) From my perspective, my mom was a badass. She worked full-time, raised two daughters on her own, and voiced injustices. We loved watching films together. Once I became an adult, I even convinced her to watch some of my favorite R-rated movies and “mature audience” TV shows. Until the day she died in 2016, we would often call each other and say “oh did you see this episode?” or “I’m watching The West Wing, again.”
The stories I saw on television and the politics at home contradicted doctrine I was being taught at church. One of my most pivotal introductions to the roles of “men” and “women” came from the Mormon prophet Gordon Hinckley in 1995. The speech titled The Family: A Proclamation to the World was first read at a conference broadcast to the women of the church:
All human beings — male and female — are created in the image of God. Each is a beloved spirit son or daughter of heavenly parents...Gender is an essential characteristic of individual premortal, mortal, and eternal identity and purpose... We declare that God’s commandment for His children to multiply and replenish the earth remains in force. We further declare that God has commanded that the sacred powers of procreation are to be employed only between man and woman, lawfully wedded as husband and wife.
It continues:
By divine design, fathers...are responsible to provide the necessities of life and protection for their families. Mothers are primarily responsible for the nurture of their children.
Well, that wasn’t my experience. My mom had both those roles. Whenever that was brought up I was told “your family is an exception” and “still, you were born under the covenant.” Under the covenant means I was born into a family with a mom and dad who were married in a Mormon temple. Dad died before I turned one, but because they were married in a temple before I was born I was automatically “sealed” to them for, as the Church says, time and all eternity. In order to be with my family after death, I had to be sure I followed that same divine path. (Spoiler alert: I didn’t.)
***
When you turn 12 in the Church, teens are separated into groups called Young Men and Young Women. You’re in these particular organizations until you turn 18. Basically, from the onset of puberty until you’re considered old enough for marriage. Each Sunday I’d go to Young Women, towering over everyone in height and weight. I wasn’t cute, I wasn’t dainty. I couldn’t play the piano or sing well like seemingly everyone else in the group. I wasn’t particularly feminine, although I tried. I was, well, weird. I liked Ally McBeal and RENT and writing silly skits. When I turned 16 - the approved dating age in the Church - I was never asked on dates. Although I felt a little lonely and a lot out of place, I never really minded. On top of (or because of) those things, I was excruciatingly shy.
Young Women is where I learned about things like good hygiene, the roles of a mother, and how much Jesus suffered for my sins. One of these sins was masturbation:
The Lord specifically forbids certain behaviors, including all sexual relations before marriage, petting, sex perversion (such as homosexuality, rape, and incest), masturbation, or preoccupation with sex in thought, speech, or action.
At 12, the children in the Church are given a pamphlet called For the Strength of Youth. The sections include topics such as, Dating, Dress & Appearance, Language, Sexual Purity, and Music & Dancing. When I found out from a kid at school what masturbation actually meant, I felt a wave of guilt rush through me. I was unworthy. The idea of worthiness in the Church continually hangs over the heads of its members.
…[The Lord] wants all his children to return to live with him one day. However, he knows that only those who are worthy will be able to live with him...God’s commandments are constant, unwavering, and dependable. As you adhere to them you will receive countless blessings from heaven - including the gift of eternal life.
Actions that damage worthiness range from having sex before marriage to drinking coffee. When I turned 14, I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t think about sex or masturbate anymore. I kept a dry-erase calendar in my room and would cross off the days neither of those things happened. I was dirty, unworthy, and a sinner. The only way to cleanse yourself from this sin was to confess to a Bishop.
A bishop in the Mormon church is usually a working dentist, or lawyer, or doctor, or has some sort of esteemed career. Always a man. Each congregation in a community has its own bishop, and it is “known” they are called directly from God. They usually serve a 5 or 6 year “term” and are seen as the go-to leader. Twice a year, they conduct “worthiness” interviews with the youth. Kids turning 8 are always interviewed alone, by the bishop, to determine if they’re ready for baptism.
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INT. BISHOP’S OFFICE - SOUTHWEST MISSOURI - DAY
Sarah (8), sits uncomfortably in a chair, dangling her feet that don’t quite reach the ground. Little leg hairs are poking through her white tights as she attempts to adjust them from rolling down past her belly button. Across the desk sits the BISHOP, dragging out a large handbook.
BISHOP
Alright, Sister Hiatt. I’m going to ask you a few questions. Are you ready?
SARAH
(shyly)
Yes.
BISHOP
Do you have faith in and a testimony of God the Eternal Father, His Son Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost?
SARAH
Yes.
BISHOP
Great. Are you honest in your dealings with your fellow man?
SARAH
(hesitates)
Yes.
BISHOP
Do you live the Law of Chastity?
SARAH
What’s that?
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Looking back now, it gives me the chills that a middle-aged man sat alone in an office with an 8 year old girl and asked her if she abstains from sexual intercourse. That’s about the same age I began masturbating. I had no idea what I was doing made me “unworthy,” but I suppose I knew enough to keep it a secret. When I eventually confessed to a bishop about my sexual experiences, he asked if I found it pleasurable. Again, a middle-aged man. Again, alone. Door shut. No window. I didn’t even answer him, I just full-body sobbed.
***
After years of research, self-discovery, and many guilt-ridden “what ifs” I officially left the Mormon church in 2018. I had been an inactive member for a long time at that point, but resigning is a process. There is a law office in Utah that does all the work for you pro bono. It essentially comes down to submitting a letter and requesting that no one from the Church office contacts you. In early 2019, the Church began enforcing that the letters be notarized before anyone could have their name removed from the records. When people remove their names it subtracts from the number of members on record, even if they are already inactive. This multi-billion dollar organization does anything they can to make sure people stay.
If you’re keeping track of the timeline, you may have noticed I didn’t officially leave until after my mom died. I was constantly worried about disappointing her. Leaving the Church isn’t just a way of saying “I don’t believe the same things as you anymore.” To the believing members, someone who leaves literally destroys the family for all eternity. To them, I’m an apostate. Knowing what I know now, I think she would support my decision. I still wonder why someone like her, so progressive in political ideals, felt so strongly about a church that wasn’t. Why didn’t she talk to me about sex? It was in every show we watched together. The fear a church like that instills in you is intense. They teach you to “doubt your doubts, not your faith.” They teach teen girls that they must remain pure for their future husbands. “Nobody wants to eat an already licked cupcake.” If you mess up, sure you can repent, but it often comes with some form of public humiliation. During the repentance process, you’re not allowed to say prayers publicly or partake of the weekly sacrament, or communion. It is quite noticeable when someone passes along the tray of bread or water without taking a piece. People sitting in the pews are expected to have their heads bowed in a prayer position and their hands folded gently in their lap. But, eyes wander and nothing spreads faster than gossip among Mormons. I think that comes from a holier-than-thou-I-know-something-you-don’t superiority complex.
I’m continually healing from my experiences in the Mormon Church. I feel more free and happy than ever, but the indoctrination runs deep. Even typing out the word “masturbation” embarrasses me a bit. Finally, in my early 30s, I’m at a point where I can be intimate with another person without feeling extreme shame and guilt. Not only has the Church stunted my sexual identity, but it has also affected my body image, relationship to food, ability to trust others, and how I connect to my family.
I don’t blame my mom. I realize now that she faced the same restrictive, shame-induced pressures as I did growing up, but didn’t have someone whispering in her ear dismissing the harmful parts. She lost her husband at a young age and became a single parent. To detach herself from the Church would have meant complete isolation from the only community she had. Besides, I know she had so much love for my dad. The thought of losing him after death was surely an unfathomable consequence.
I’m the person I am today, because of my mom - in spite of the Church.
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INT. LIVING ROOM - SOUTHWEST MISSOURI - NIGHT
Sarah, too big to sit on Mom’s lap nowadays, lays on her stomach directly under Mom’s legs. Mom is sitting in an orange velvet armchair, remote in hand. The bluish light from the TV illuminates Mom’s and Sarah’s faces. As something like, THE X-FILES, or ROSEANNE, or THE NANNY credits roll on the screen, Mom flicks her wrist to turn off the TV. The room becomes dark.
MOM
OK, Sarah. Time for bed.
SARAH
(whines)
No, please, can I just stay up a little while longer?
MOM
Sarah, it’s a school night!
SARAH
Please, please, please!
MOM
All right, all right. Just a little while longer.
Mom flicks her wrist again and turns on the TV. The bluish light illuminates Mom’s and Sarah’s faces.
FADE OUT.
This month’s resources:
If you have any questions about the Mormon church, or are currently in and struggling to find a way out, please reach out to me. I’d be happy to provide answers or offer emotional support. - Sarah
CES Letter - My Search for Answers to my Mormon Doubts
The Family: A Proclamation to the World
For the Strength of Youth (1990)
For the Strength of Youth (2001)