Bad Mormon: A Memoir

by Heather Gay

Would I risk my eternity, my church, my community, my family, for a sizzle reel?

Born in the covenant: Mormon flex.

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

I was steeped in the noble art of cooking, cleaning, and homemaking, a sacred, dutiful ritual that instilled in me a self-esteem and self-worth derived from the things I could control.

They wanted me to keep sweet, pray, and obey, because it would make my life easier.

The church holds these purity principles to be sacred. Breaking the Law of Chastity is tantamount to murder, and that’s the doctrine, not the culture.

Everyone wants to marry a girl who’s naive, not all-knowing. I wanted to be a prize for my future husband.

I had never had anyone in my life encourage me to do anything past this point. No mention of an advanced degree. No mention of an actual career. No mention of travel, or adventure, or a gap year. The map only led to marriage, so I didn’t know where to go next.

Go ahead, make fun of us now, we will see who’s laughing when you are burning in hell!

A woman’s heart is a deep ocean of secrets.

My value in the community was tied to my purity.

All my dreams were coming true, and I wasn’t going to mess it up by having an opinion.

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

When you’re instilled with the idea that your worth is directly related to your obedience, it’s easy to feel small.