Kalie Walker hates trying to describe herself in a couple of sentences, but she’ll do it anyway because Dr. Pepper told her to. Kalie is an ex-Mormon, a writer, a social rights activist, and a new person every fifteen minutes. All she really wants is to eat good food, have good sex, and convince people to be excellent to each other.
Nathaniel Murphy doesn't know how to describe himself in a couple sentences. His advanced editing professor once told him that a good editor is invisible on the page, so to announce himself through a bio feels jarring... Oh well.
Anyway, he hopes that his hyperlinks and editor's notes worked seamlessly with Kalie's voice because that was his goal. He feels like he could have done more to present Kalie's essay in a smart and visually appealing way, but if you ask me, he's asking too much from himself. He's only been coding web pages for a semester, yet he thinks he needs to be a master. Bless his heart.
One of the most common questions Mormons ask when I tell them I’m an ex-Mormon is, “Why?” And the first few times they asked, I broke into a cold sweat.
What was I supposed to say? Should I take the honest-but-insensitive route and say, “I think praying to know the truth is bull and Joseph Smith was a charlatan”?
Or, perhaps worse, should I take the dishonest-but-Coexist route and say, “The church just isn’t for me”?
Should I just pretend I have somewhere to be?
At the beginning of my transition out of the church, I felt like these were my only three options. So, instead of answering the question gracefully, I usually just blushed, stuttered out some half rude, half overly-apologetic answer, and then pretended to be late for something. It was really a beautiful thing to watch. Really.
And while it was difficult to talk to strangers about the controversial aspects of Mormonism, it was almost impossible to talk to close friends or family. What was I supposed to say to my devout mother when she, in tears, asked why I was abandoning my faith? At the time, I couldn’t bring myself to tell her. I was scared of losing my mom.
I think many new (and even seasoned) ex-Mormons struggle with this issue. Some ex-Mos think harsh, insensitive bluntness is the best (or even the only) way to explain their faith transitions. Others take the Coexist route: they refuse to discuss controversial aspects of Mormonism with Mormons at all, citing the “live and let live” ideal, staying silent even when the church passes laws that legalize discrimination against LGBTs.
Still others hide, concealing their stories and their convictions in fear of harming their relationships.
I’m here to tell you there is a middle ground. You don’t have to tell your 90-year-old grandma she’s an oppressed, brainwashed cult member. You don’t have to say “live and let live” when criticism is necessary. And you don’t have to hide.
The following are eight tips for discussing your faith transition in an honest, objective, and thought- provoking way without being an asshole.
For the most part, I think everyone deserves to hear the truth, even when the truth is difficult to hear. Sometimes, however, it’s obvious when someone will refuse to listen, even when they’re the ones who asked why you left.
Those who might refuse to listen can include the fiercely devout. My father-in-law is one of these people. He has a rule that when my husband and I (both ex-Mos) come over for dinner, we are not allowed to say anything critical of the church or its leadership. This includes discussion of evolution or The Big Bang. He will “not tolerate that kind of faith-destroying filth under [his] roof.” Obviously, we oblige him. He hasn’t really given us another option.
Others would be better off not hearing your story, including the zealous/old, and the zealous/vulnerable. If your Area Seventy grandpa just found out he has nine months to live, and he asks you why you left the church, please don’t try to convince him Mormon heaven is fake. The same goes for the Relief Society President who just lost her baby. Wait to talk about the hard stuff until she’s stronger.
It’s important to remember that most Mormons don’t fall under any of these three categories (fiercely devout, zealous and old, or zealous and vulnerable). Don’t treat every Mormon as if they do.
You were a Mormon once. You know how important the church is to practicing Mormons. Hell, I miss my old relationship with Jesus to this day. I miss knowing someone loved me unconditionally and wanted to protect me at all times. I miss the feelings of hope and certainty the church used to provide me, and I miss knowing I would be with my family forever in the eternities. When I was a member, the thought of resigning was terrifying and depressing. I felt sick just thinking about it.
Enter the conversation with these feelings in mind.
(Be empathetic! Ed.)
If the person who asked about your resignation is a stranger, keep things casual. Tell him or her you’re glad they asked, and that you know how important the church is in their lives. Tell them you have no intention of hurting their feelings.
In less casual situations (i.e. when the person who asked is a close friend or family member) find a private place, sit down with them, and tell them you understand the importance of the church in their lives. Tell them you know that this conversation might make them uncomfortable or even scared, and that you’re grateful they’re willing to talk to you anyway. Tell them no matter what is said today, even if the two of you end up disagreeing completely, you’ll still love them, and/or you’ll still be their friend.
I almost combined this tip and the last one, but I think this one’s really important, so I’m giving it special attention.
Religion is a unique characteristic: It’s one of few lifestyle choices that’s treated like an essential trait. That is to say, according to many people, religion is an unchangeable aspect of a human’s being, like race or sexual orientation. Because of this idea, when you discuss controversial aspects of Mormonism with a Mormon, your assertions can be viewed as personal attacks. He or she might think, “I’m a Mormon, so anyone who criticizes Mormonism is criticizing me.”
This mindset can be pretty deeply ingrained; you may not be able to convince your conversation partner otherwise. However, it’s important to emphasize that in your discussion of Mormonism, you will only criticize ideas, never people. Just because you think Mormonism is problematic does not mean you take issue with Mormons as individuals. Remind them that religion is a choice, not an essential human trait, so it is possible to criticize Mormonism without criticizing its members.
This issue is a sticking point for many people, though, so if the other person thinks you’re being bigoted, you may have to end or postpone the conversation.
I can’t emphasize this one enough. I think many ex-Mormons feel, since they are justified in being angry, that they should communicate about the difficult aspects of Mormonism in an angry way. Some ex-Mormons think that by being blunt, they will shock their conversation partner into changing his or her mind. That typically doesn’t work.
Ergo, don’t use words like “cult,” “brainwashed,” “pedophile,” “murderer,” “charlatan,” “adulterer,’ etc. in a conversation with a devout Mormon (or in any conversation, really. Objectivity is important). If you do use charged language, one (or two, or maybe all) of three things will happen:
To be sure, it’s not wrong to discuss the Mountain Meadows Massacre as what it was--a massacre. Rhetorically, however, your audience will shut down if you use too much strong language. I think it’s completely possible to discuss difficult aspects of Mormonism honestly without calling your mom a brainwashed zombie. Consider writing down what you’d like to say beforehand, so you can check and make sure you’re not using overly-acerbic language.
When asked why they left the church, a lot of ex-Mos make the mistake of showing Mormons the CES Letter. The CES Letter is extremely thorough, well-written, and backs up all its assertions with primary sources. But Jeremy Runnells (the author), besides being a well-known apostate, begins the letter with a somewhat bitter rant about the church. And while I know Mr. Runnells is justified in his feelings, I also know that many (if not most) devout Mormons don’t make it past that initial rant. Better to find copies of Jeremy’s sources (most of which come from the church itself) and let your conversation partner read those.
The church has also published roughly a dozen essays on difficult church topics (e.g. Joseph’s child brides, the Mountain Meadows Massacre, etc.) on its website, and while these essays are pretty heavily biased, they’re a good place to start.
(As of November 8, 2023, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints' Gospel Topics Essays series has expanded to 14 articles. Ed.)
Don’t shove all this potentially new information down your conversation partner’s throat. It can be tempting to rattle off a long list of grievances for rhetorical effect, but first of all, doing so is a kind of Gish Galloping. The information you’re presenting isn’t false, but when “presenting” becomes “projectile vomiting,” your conversation partner can’t digest what you’re saying (ew), let alone respond to it.
It’s important to have a true conversation with your partner; taking things slowly will allow him or her to consider and respond to each of your points. Not only will the other person know they’re being heard, but you might actually learn something too, by golly! Remember that understanding different perspectives is vital to growth, and that you can listen to and understand others’ views without agreeing with them.
Second (and perhaps more obviously), rattling off a list of grievances will probably overwhelm and anger the person you’re talking to. Imagine asking someone what they think about your major and having them puke out twenty reasons why they hate it. Now multiply those bad feelings by ten, and that’s probably how it feels to hear someone take a twenty minute shit on your beliefs. Go slowly.
This is probably common sense, but I’ll throw it in here anyway. Having a passionate argument is fine, but when things start getting loud or personal, it’s time to take a breather. Doing this can sometimes be difficult as hell; I’ve gotten into a couple of nasty fights because neither I nor my conversation partner could calm down. However, it’s absolutely vital that things not get personal. If they do, consider ending the conversation for the evening and picking it up again on another day. If things get extremely heated, you may want to return to step one.
(Or some casual equivalent of love, if you’re talking to someone you’ve never met.) Think of this conversation as a love sandwich. You started it with an expression of goodwill, you talked about the tough stuff, and now you’re ending it with another expression of goodwill. Did your English teachers ever advise you to begin and end your essays strongly, because your reader will remember those parts best? Same goes for this conversation. Start it on a good note, end it on a good note, and that’s what your conversation partner will remember. Ending the conversation with love is also a good way to remind the other person that, even if the two of you disagree, you still care about each other.
In a time when polarization is widespread and seductive, I think it’s easy to fall into the “us versus them” mindset. I think it’s easy to see people as “others” who “just don’t get it” and deserve to be yelled at and made fun of. I also think it’s easy to get stuck on the other side of the spectrum, to take the “live and let live” ideal too far, to give discrimination a pass because of religious belief.
As with most things, a balance is necessary. I don’t think I should have to say that every person is worth our kindness, but I do. That girl in the hallway passing out Institute fliers deserves love just as much as anyone else. I also don’t think I should have to say that there is no excuse for discrimination, but I do. A gay person should never be fired for coming out, no matter what his or her boss believes.
So instead of being blunt or being silent, let’s find a middle ground. Be honest, be real, but don’t be an asshole. Doing so requires a lot of patience and a lot of effort, but it’s absolutely worth it.