Bad Mormon: A Memoir

by Heather Gay

I didn’t even know that we were religious. I just thought that we were better than everyone else.

but I wanted my dad to see me differently. I wanted him to pull me aside and say, “I’d rather you be funny and brave and occasionally look obnoxious than for you to think you have to be small and quiet and nice in order to be good.”

The beliefs aren’t reinforced by strangers, they’re reinforced by the people who love you most. And it’s in that moment that you don’t really have a choice. You believe. You fall in line. You commit.

I was taught to say “no” to a lot of things outside of our faith. But inside the faith, I was taught only to bow my head and say “yes.”

I thought being cherished and protected was better than being respected and heard.

In a culture that believes perfection is attainable, we often internalize the pain of falling short. When you’re instilled with the idea that your worth is directly related to your obedience, it’s easy to feel small. After all, fetters and shackles aren’t that different.