A discussion of the complexity of the question “Are you LDS?” for one Exponent blogger exploring layers of identity
What is my identity and what is mine to claim? Can I claim being LDS as a layer in my identity? Is it accurate? These questions aren’t easy answers for me like they once were. When asked at church “Who are you?” I gave the memorized and instant reply “I’m a daughter of Heavenly Father who loves me and I love him.” This identity of divine worth as a child of God has been with me since my earliest memories because I was born into and raised in the faith. Primary teachings focus a lot on being a child of God and Young Womens’ focus was specifically on being a daughter of Heavenly Father (no, I never was taught about Heavenly Mother).
Growing up in the church, I often heard the story of Joseph F Smith being followed by a group of men who had nefarious intentions. The way I remember it, they pulled him off his horse and asked him menacingly if he was a Mormon. He replied “true blue through and through” with pride. This was the gold standard response, the one that was expected of me when asked. Even as a child I was taught lessons about the importance of being willing to die rather than deny my faith.
While living in Utah, a common question I was asked was “Are you Mormon?” That eventually changed to “Are you LDS?” but to me it’s the same question. One of the times I was asked this was when I had started a work from home job that worked perfectly with my kids’ school schedule. I had earned a dinner with the director and other high performers and was anxious and excited about the opportunity. The director shook my hand, asked where I lived, and when I told him he said “Oh! Are you LDS?” and I froze for a moment in panic.
It turned out that he lived in the same Eagle Mountain neighborhood and wanted to know if we were in the same ward. The question surprised me (I mean hello HR?) but also it was the first time anyone had asked me that question since I had stopped attending church services due to realizing my beliefs weren’t compatible with the religion I was raised in. In a split second before answering the director of the company, my brain was processing “am I still LDS if I don’t believe? My pioneer ancestors sacrificed so much, am I dishonoring them by not claiming my heritage? Am I going to be affected by bias (intended or unconscious) if I say no? Does saying no wipe away the last 36 years of my life living as a Mormon?”
Now that I live in Washington I don’t get asked this question and I don’t miss being asked. Because the truth is, it’s very complicated for me and I’ve been conditioned to believe that if I don’t proudly claim it, I’m not living up to the gold standard that was set and has been expected of me since my years as a child in primary. If I were to claim it, I’d feel like a religious imposter. If I respond “it’s complicated” it triggers questions I don’t want to answer. If I say “no, I’m ex-Mormon” peoples’ reactions are often weird or uncomfortable. For me, the question instantly raises complex and contradictory emotions of grief and pride, of loss and freedom.
Generations of LDS ancestors helped form my cultural identity. When I meet other people who have spent significant time as a believing Mormon and no longer believe, I feel a kinship. They understand me on a level that people who haven’t spent decades in the church cannot and in a way that people who believe and haven’t suffered the emotional and even physical effects of leaving the church cannot. How can I possibly sum up the totality of my experiences of good and bad, of being uplifted and abused, of being devout and disaffected in my answer?
I have often heard the phrase “people who leave the church cannot leave it alone” and the phrase has always, even as a devout member, given me the ick. I just don’t think it’s a fair assessment and to me it sounds dismissive and defensive. Maybe there are people who can spend their lives being devoutly LDS and then walk away and never talk about it, analyze it, try to figure out where the line of LDS identity ends or seek therapy after “leaving the church” but that hasn’t been my experience. I’ll admit there have been times in my life since I stopped believing that something terrible has happened and my mind instantly goes to “this wouldn’t have happened if you would have stayed in the church.” This is a common and unfair thought many people experience because this was a message we received our entire lives. It’s one of many messages that are unwelcome luggage in my faith and identity journey.
So far it’s been impossible to try to disentangle myself from Mormonism. Somehow when I removed over 50 LDS books from our home library my LDS identity didn’t get boxed up with them. Despite clearing my cedar chest of religious keepsakes I still find relics like copies of my patriarchal blessing or pass along cards among my things. When I donated my temple clothing to saints in need it didn’t erase my memory of my new name. When I sold all my Young Women Medallions to a sister who was recently called to serve in the program all the efforts I made to earn them weren’t forgotten.
Getting to know new people has always been interesting but now living in a place where many of my core memories or chapters in my life (like a ridiculously short engagement) are not common/shared experiences I feel a bit awkward. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love it here but I’d be lying if I said I don’t sometimes feel like an alien around coworkers. I used the word “mete” the other day. Apparently that isn’t a word known outside of religion. Knowing the LDS language served me well in Utah. If you don’t think we have a language I challenge you to ponderize it. See what I did there? Now I’m wondering how to change my language patterns because I want to and I can’t figure it out.
I linger in this space that feels neither in between or past while I try to sort out the many layers of my identity and what is mine to claim.
Someday, I hope I’ll figure it all out. For anyone else who feels similarly, I hope you do too.
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9 Responses
I’ve been thinking about this a lot since officially leaving. It’s almost an entirely intellectual exercise; it just doesn’t come up where I live or in the groups I move that often. My mother, when we had the I’m-leaving conversation, did ask if I consider myself Christian. I said yes at the time, but since then I heard Glennon Doyle use the phrase “spiritually private” and decided that’s how I want to identify as. In Mormonism (and a lot of Christianity), religion has felt like something that is owned by a group. And I just don’t particularly want this to be a group project anymore.
But in some ways, “I grew up Mormon” or “I was Mormon” would also be appropriate because that is a huge part of my foundation today, for both good and ill. And I get to do that. It’s not like leaving Mormonism means everything about Mormonism just absented itself from my life, my brain, my history. It’s not that I can’t leave the church alone, which I think is true for most of us–it’s that I can’t surgically remove everything about my four decades of Mormonism from my life and I’m allowed to discuss how it shaped me.
Thanks for this piece, Jen. It gave me a lot to think about.
Thanks for this post and your honesty about your feelings. For so long in the church we were taught that to question or struggle with tenets of the Mormon church was a sure path to apostacy. The guilt is real.
One part of my family is from prominent LDS pioneer stock. I grew up on stories that were I now know romanticized.
I did drop out as a teen but came back later. I went to and graduated from BYU and married in the temple. My other side through the Van Buren’s-yes, I’m related to Martin Van Buren-was/still anti-Mormon. So I heard conflicting things growing up. Saying all that I still questioned certain things like women not having the priesthood, Blacks denied the priesthood, and women’s place. The leader’s responses included being told to pray about it, go to the temple more, or repent. Or my favorite-“You need to be obedient.” Cringe. I hate that word.
It’s like you said, it’s complicated. When someone asks me what I am? I say I’m Christian. Not a Christian National, but Christian. You can’t separated over 40 years of growing up in the church. It’s part of you. and shapes you as the person you are today. It’s also okay to question-didn’t Joseph Smith do that? It’s also okay not to blindly follow some things that really are interpretations from some people.
So yeah, I’m guilty of not leaving it alone.
This is a hard question to answer. People ask it for different reasons, and you almost have to know the reason for the question. Some people ask it as “are you one of us or not?” They want to know which team I am on and I am just not on a team and it is judgmental. Other times they just want to know if we have the culture in common. I know I still ask it if I want to know if they speak LDS or not. Some things are just easier to explain if you both speak Mormoneese. If that is the reason they are asking me, then I say that I was raised in the church and I am not all the way out. If they are asking to see if I am a believer, I just say no. If they are going to judge me, then let them. If they are asking to see if I know the culture and understand LDS thinking, I assure them that I do. If they ask why I left, I ask them if they have four hours for me to explain.
I just say, “My family is,” and leave it at that.
Usually, it only comes up when people realize how large my family’s families are! I also consider my family’s culture to be LDS (aside from the religion), so it’s not something I can escape or avoid entirely.
This is honestly one of my favorite things about the church’s eagerness to abandon the word “Mormon’ I don’t have any issues claiming it as my own. I don’t identify as LDS much anymore, if we had holiday members that would be me. But Mormon is me. The early pioneers. The faithful leavers. The 1950s and 1980s converts. Those are me. The culture and values and personal spiritual beliefs are all very Mormon. But LDS. not so much. So I don’t mind answering yes I’m Mormon in most circles But LDS? No. I’m not currently practicing.
Thank you for encapsulating how hard it is when someone asks. Am I? Maybe; maybe not. I don’t believe in the core doctrine of the religion, but I was born and raised in it and spent 50+ years steeping myself in its tenets. I can still speak the language, and I understand the scurrying that happens when something changes in the temple or gets announced at church. I still listen to ALSSI and to Latter Day Struggles podcasts, and I pay money for the subscribers-only Substack group and the Friday subscribers-only podcast episodes, so I’m not leaving it alone. Maybe someday I can just be spiritual, in the second half of life, and in the harmony stage, but for now, I’m here, contemplating removing my name from the records but keeping them there just in case (of what I don’t quite know, but LDS Mormons know what I mean).
My reply is, “I’m momonish.” Which generally leads to the “I grew up Mormon /LDS, but don’t attend anymore.” Which can lead to more of a conversation. Or not. Yeah, it’s complicated figuring out how to define myself from the Mormon springboard.
I too wrestle with my response to this question (how’s that for some Mormoneese?). Luckily I live in Ohio, so no one’s really asking. I dred conversations where religion even tangentially comes up for fear someone will ask me where I go to church or that those that know I do attend the Mormon church will ask a question about it. It’s a part of me and always will be even if I get to that point where I completely walk away. But I don’t think that’s easily understood by many people, even members of other churches would probably wonder why a person has such a strong connection to a church they no longer attend.
“I was raised Mormon, but I’m not anymore” is usually my answer if I think I will know this person long-term, because the culture is important to me and is related in so much of how I grew up. If it’s a stranger or I’m in Utah, I usually say “No.” Like many others I will always bear the markers that make it kind of obvious—lots of siblings, married young, from Utah.
I’ve kind of learned that most people don’t really differentiate between “I was raised Mormon” and “I am Mormon,” even with the second half of the sentence. IME, a lot of people who were raised religious don’t have the same concept of “inactivity” that Mormons do—though there are certainly many exceptions.
There was a while that I was trying to supersede those questions: I wore tank tops/short shorts, had multiple piercings, drank coffee and wine, went to brunch on Sundays. Then realized that many people don’t know those cultural indicators that someone’s no longer Mormon, so it was kind of a moot point!
If I give the nuanced response, I’ve kind of learned to bear with the questions that follow. I live in the Midwest/South so there are not many others like me, so I’ll often end up answering questions about caffeine and Mormon missionary rules and if Secret Lives of Mormon Wives is accurate.