THE GRANDDAUGHTER OF FRED PHELPS RECOUNTS HER EXODUS FROM THE WBC
Author Libby Phelps wrote in the first chapter of this 2017 book, “Miraculously, I had been born a member of the only church on Earth whose congregation was going to heaven, and I had been taught from birth what happened to everyone who wasn’t. Or, for that matter, to anyone in our family who strayed from the path of righteousness… My late grandfather, Fred Phelps, was the founder of the Westboro Baptist Church. The church is made up of about seventy people, and 90 percent of them are members of my immediate or extended family. (A few other families would join over the years, but I was always skeptical of them.) The Phelps clan is the backbone of the WBC… Gramps’s name and face are well known all around the world… The media covered my grandfather endlessly, which he loved. Did it bother him that they almost uniformly wrote about how terrible he was? Quite the opposite. He saw himself as a prophet, and as he often told us, throughout history people have always scorned prophets---right up until their prophecies come true.” (Pg. 1-3)
She continues, “I was told that civilization outside of WBC was made up of sinners, alcoholics, drug addicts, and lost souls with no moral compass. There was no gray area: You were either one of us, or you were depraved and doomed… My only view of life outside WBC was that it was an orgy of sin, that absolutely everyone was bound for eternal damnation… I was thankful to have been chosen out of this corrupt and sinful generation, while all others were blinded by the truth. SBC is best known for our picketing, which began in earnest in the early 1990s… You know who we are. You’ve gasped at television footage of me and my family at memorial services for American soldiers, waving signs that say THANK GOD FOR DEAD SOLDIERS… THANK GOD FOR 9/11… For over twenty years, the church has picketed every day, 365 days a year. No exceptions… GOD HATES F-GS, our most well-known sign, was the enduring mantra of the church.” (Pg. 3-4)
She recounts, “When the picketing first began, WBC specifically targeted the gay population at pride parades … Then we branched out to fallen soldiers’ funerals---a 180-degree reversal of Gramps’s previous attitude toward the military, up until the late ‘90s, when he would pray for US soldiers in sermons, referring to them as ‘our boys.’ Once Gramps decided the United State … was on a fast track straight to hell, he proclaimed that no one should be fighting for a nation that supports and enables homosexuality… More specifically, Gramps preached to us that God was killing soldiers because Americans bombed us on August 20, 1995, when a small improvised explosive device went off outside my Aunt Shirley’s house.” (Pg. 5-6)
She explains, “The words on our signs… are really intended more for overall shock value than to make anyone feel bad, although we were often confronted with people brought to tears by our placards. Their visible pain was entirely beside the point, in the church’s view. Short sound bites grab people’s attention and spark interest, as we were taught early and often in church and in picketing meetings. As a result, passerby will look at the signs and have to make a choice: to serve God by picketing with us, or to turn their backs… and continue to be part of unholy America.” (Pg. 6-7)
But she observes, “Most of the world saw Gramps as a condemning, hateful, firebrand cult leader---a man who would be impossible to … love---but the truth is that to me, he was a real grandfather as well as an all-consuming spiritual leader. When he wasn’t talking religion, he seemed like a typical Southern gentleman. He had impeccable manners, and insisted on looking his Sunday best every day… We were close, and I really loved him… Gramps and Gran moved to Topeka … 1954 with my dad. The first-ever church service … was held in November 1955, and from then on it hosted Sunday services nearly every week and continues to this day… for many years before the picketing started, my grandfather ran a more traditional ministry… Gramps would often explain to us with genuine regret that although no one preached the Bible like he did, there was a time when all preachers would do it. John Calvin’s Five Points of Calvinism… were considered the building blocks of Christianity by many preachers of my grandfather’s generation.” (Pg. 8-10)
She also records, “He graduated from Washburn University Law School in Topeka in 1964, founding the Phelps-Chartered law firm soon afterward. He was a well-known lawyer in town for years, famed for his passionate defenses in civil rights cases. He… would take on racial discrimination cases no one else would touch at that time. He represented the likes of Gale Sayers… who contacted Gramps when he played college ball at the University of Kansas… [Gramps] even received an award from the NAACP for his work on behalf of black clients. Later, Gramps would actually use his background in civil rights to shore up his conviction that gay people didn’t deserve equal rights. Since he believed that being gay was a choice---unlike race---he had no problem separating his anti-gay rhetoric from his past as a defender of victims of racial discrimination.” (Pg. 10-11)
She notes, “Gramps and Gran lived in the biggest house on the block, the one that was also home to the church itself… A black wrought iron fence connected to a taller brown lattice fence surrounded the property. The fences stayed locked and were equipped with video surveillance most of the time, as Gramps had become increasingly paranoid in his later years.” (Pg. 17)
She recounts, “Gramps had started making changes in the church rules as well. I got the feeling he was pushed into it by Steve Drain, who with his family had joined the church and was always trying to impress the church elders with his devotion to piety. He had been instrumental in kicking out his own daughter for sneaking around … with boys… Gramps, who was slowing down a bit in his old age, was happy to let him and some of the other men make some more of the decisions. Soon afterward… Gramps himself was being pushed aside by more radical members. IN 2007, WBC members started actively saying that Gramps had lost faith… We were told not to talk to Gramps… Gramps wrote a letter to his congregation… I was told it contained words denouncing [Libby’s aunt] Shirl, blaming her for what he thought was the church’s imminent demise. Shortly afterward, I heard Gramps was excommunicated from the church. He died on March 19, 2014, separated from nearly all of his family.” (Pg. 26-27)
She records, “Regular counter-protestors appeared with their own signs. Other churches started picketing---against us! They carried signs … with slogans like GOD LOVES EVERYONE---which, we knew from Gramps’s sermons, was definitely not the case. And their signs … [were] White background with boring red writing---how was that supposed to grab anyone’s attention compared to out multicolor, eye-popping signs? It wasn’t long before there were enough people in the counter-protests that the men in our group made the decision to link arms to create a barrier against the angry masses.” (Pg. 34-35)
She recalls, “In 1995, a few years after the picketing had started, I began to notice a difference in how I was treated at middle school. Kids didn’t like me anymore… they openly whispered about me… I had been prepared for this for years; Gramps had been preaching about it since I was three. God’s elect would be persecuted, and there was no better place for persecution than middle school… I wanted to wear their judgment like a badge of honor, just as Gramps had instructed.” (Pg. 37-38)
She explains, “One place I did reliably have fun was at our family parties. We never celebrated religious holidays, because Gramps said they were all dirty pagan celebrations at their core… For a while, we celebrated the Fourth of July---but that eventually had to go too, once Gramps had decided the military was fighting for a ‘f-g nation.’” (Pg. 48)
She recounts, “The Vintage was one of the nicest restaurants in town… When Gramps got wind of its manager… being appointed to a gay and lesbian council in town, the place immediately went on our weekly picket list… It all came to a head one day that lives in infamy in our family’s history… ‘the Vintage Massacre.’ … when our picket showed up… [the owner] emerged from the restaurant’s front door with a small group of big, burly men… we always tried to record, in case we needed anything in court later… One of the big men smacked the camcorder out of his hand… Another pushed my uncle Tim… soon Tim was on the ground being kicked by two of the men… Soon it was a full-on melee, with the men in our group being pummeled by Berger’s thugs… Finally, the police and ambulances arrived; several of my uncles… went to the hospital.” (Pg. 74-75)
After the 9/11 attacks, “I pulled into the driveway at Gramps’s place… The tone was upbeat---elated, even… I couldn’t help thinking it felt disrespectful to be so jubilant about so many people getting killed. I knew none of the were ‘innocent’ in our book, but the images on the TV screens were scary and sad and I felt like I was pretending to be happy about it when I wasn’t… As far as Westboro was concerned, 9/11 was our biggest I-told-you-so moment yet---and Gramps intended to use it to its full potential.” (Pg. 102-103) She adds, “the following spring, we organized a picket of the New York firefighters… Among our signs for the occasion was FDNY SIN… THANK GOD FOR SEPTEMBER 11… which would make New Yorkers the angriest? That was what we wanted to go for.” (Pg. 103-104) She goes on, “The church’s fixation on Armageddon intensified after the 9/11 attacks… And when we were in church, we had to sprawl out on the floor… Even more disturbing was how the content of the prayers evolved. We actually started praying for people to die. This chilling development further chipped away at my faith…” (Pg. 105)
She recounts, “It was around this time that church members started saying Gramps was losing faith. Church members were told to not talk to Gramps. It was the beginning of his ouster from his own congregation. The family made sure to hide this internal conflict from a visitor who’d shown up to do a documentary on the church [by] British reporter Louis Theroux… called ‘The Most Hated Family in America.’ … Louis had more of an impact on me than I realized in the moment; he repeatedly asked me if I didn’t yearn to get out in the world and make decisions for myself, and those questions rolled around in my head long after he and the film crew were gone.” (Pg. 110-111)
When her doubts became known, “I felt I was being persecuted, the target of a never-ending stream of ridiculous accusations and unreasonable demands. More than anything I felt trapped. But I still couldn’t see myself walking away from the church, leaving my family. The unknown world outside was too dangerous… I feared for my soul.” (Pg. 146) But ultimately, “The day I moved out was simultaneously the most joyful and most traumatic day of my life. I knew I would never see my family again. But they forced me to make a choice between a life of servitude under the strict rule of the church---a life lived in fear, paranoia, hatred, and hostility---and a life that was unknown, uncertain, but one of my own making… But somehow, by some power, I had found a greater kind of faith. I was walking the tightrope between faith and freedom, with no end in sight. It was time to cut the wire.” (Pg. 157)
This book is probably the best “memoir” of someone leaving the WBC, and will be “must reading” for anyone wanting to know more about this “church.”