Me, the Mormon magnet
On my weird connection and fascination with Mormonism
Between books like Educated and Under the Banner of Heaven and reality shows like The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City and The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives, Mormonism – or the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (LDS Church) – has become increasingly popular in the media. And while many people are just now becoming aware of and/or interested in its existence, I am pleased to say that I am a long-time fan, for lack of a better word. In fact, I am what I’ve affectionately come to call a Mormon Magnet.
Growing up, my next door neighbors were Mormon. At first, our households looked very similar. We were the traditional nuclear families with a mom, a dad, an older sister, and a younger brother. We were built-in best friends, given she and I were the same age and our brothers were as well. Over time, her family grew while mine stayed the same. With four kids and a fifth on the way, they eventually had to move when we were in middle school, though we stayed in contact for years after. I still visited them and even went to church with them like I had on occasion growing up.
Going to church with them never bothered me. As a child, I thought religion was religion. I didn’t realize there were different denominations, different practices and beliefs. I knew the words “Catholic” and “Mormon,” but I had no idea what they meant. All I knew was that Jesus was a big deal. I also knew that despite being twice as long as a mass, Mormon church services were relatively fun, all things considered. The boring part that was similar to Catholic mass was first and only lasted an hour. After that, you got to be with the other kids or girls in Primary or Young Women’s (depending on your age), before splitting off into small Sunday School groups and eating snacks. Despite being three hours, the whole thing felt way more social. And even though I was always made to awkwardly stand up when they asked if there were any visitors, it at least felt friendly.
My Mormon childhood best friend and I were glued at the hip. In fact, we often pretended to be physically glued together so we couldn’t be separated when our parents told us it was time to go. She was who I took with me to Seaside, Oregon every year for my annual family get together. My brother and I are the youngest of all the cousins by several years, and during grade school and middle school, the age gap became more apparent. Though we loved them, it was hard to relate to our cousins during that time. As big kids do, they wanted to do Big Kid Things, and as little kids tend to, we felt left out. As a solve, our parents let us bring our neighbor friends. It’s funny to me now because even after she stopped coming, I didn’t stop hanging out with Mormons at the beach.
One summer in high school, I brought a different friend with me to Seaside. We rode our bikes downtown and rented a surrey (see here for reference) at a place called Wheel Fun Rentals (yes, the name is real). When we returned it, I couldn’t help but notice the cute boy behind the counter. The exchange was short, and as we were riding away, I expressed regret about not getting his name or talking for longer. My friend, ever the wingwoman, ripped the chain off my bike and said, “There, now you have something to talk to him about.”
To this day, I’ve never experienced a smoother segue or quicker thinking. It was genius. It gave me a more natural (albeit fully fabricated) excuse to go back and talk to him. I feigned my best damsel in distress while he examined the chain and quickly tugged it back into place. Again, the interaction was ending too soon. Yet before I could think of something else to say, he invited me and my friend to a bonfire that night. Naturally, he needed my number in order to text me when and where it was happening. Later, at the beach, it came up that he was Mormon. I don’t remember how, but I remember immediately thinking how ironic it was, given the childhood companion I’d had with me in that same place for all those summers.
It might sound weird to say, but the fact that he was Mormon was very attractive to me. I don’t think I realized it consciously, but rather on a cellular level. It made him feel more trustworthy, less intimidating. I was a sophomore in high school at a Catholic school where I was growing increasingly uncomfortable with how comfortable my classmates were getting with one another. Unlike me, they didn’t seem to have the fear of God guilted into them by their youth group leaders. I was simultaneously horrified and terrified by them and their premarital escapades. I clearly couldn’t count on a Catholic boy, but boy could I count on a Mormon one, that I knew for sure.
We liked each other, Wheel Fun Rentals Guy and I, but nothing ever happened. It was a relief, honestly. I knew he wouldn’t make any sort of move unless I made it explicitly clear I was open to it. And because I was still too shy and saddled with Catholic guilt, I never gave him the go-ahead, and because he was still an upstanding Mormon man of God, he never pushed it. Still, we stayed in contact and saw each other platonically whenever I was back in town. By the time he was leaving on his mission, he asked me if he could write me. I said yes, and just like that, I had a Mormon pen pal on the Pacific island of Palau (a place I’d never heard of). He wrote me for the full duration of his mission, and I him. I remember reading his letters every few months while I was in my college dorm and sending my responses from the student center mail room. Eventually, I became consumed by college life and our contact faded. Likely realizing the clock was ticking and I was a dead end, he moved elsewhere after his mission and got married.
It was for the best because college was when I started to realize how repressed I was. The so-called values I was upholding were more fears than anything else. I started to see how the Catholic church had affected my relationship with myself and my body, and how damaging that was to my psyche and my relationships with others. I had of course told myself that I wouldn’t go to another Catholic school – that twelve years of religion classes was plenty – but I ended up at one nonetheless, and in the next four required religion classes I began to see how oppressive the church was (is), especially for women.
I started to see that this gender oppression wasn’t unique to Catholicism. I remembered the time I spent a week with my childhood friend at Girls Camp, the Mormon equivalent of summer camp. She sold it to me as more of a social thing than a religious thing, and honestly, it did sound fun. It wasn’t until I got there and realized we had to do household chores (in the woods no less) and learn first aid (which was tested at the end of the week via a dramatic emergency simulation, complete with stage blood and fake limbs) that it was really more of a bootcamp for future wives.
Over the years, my friend had joked that Mormonism was “like a cult.” I imagine it was something she’d heard people joke about and parroted as a way to downplay the obscene oddities of the religion and its culture, but it held water. All the issues I had with Catholicism – the misogyny, the repression – I could see were amplified in the Mormon faith. This was confirmed for me one day when I was walking my dog. It was after the pandemic and we’d been in our new house for just under a year. I had a routine route with my dog Aspen by then, but the time of day varied thanks to remote work. Along a neighboring side street, we passed a woman and her dog. Naturally, the two animals wanted to say hi to each other and she and I got to talking. She mentioned she had recently moved to the neighborhood. When I asked from where, she said Utah, which immediately set off my Mormon radar. I asked her if she was Mormon, she said she wasn’t anymore, and I, of course, had to hear why. We then proceeded to walk the rest of the neighborhood together and talked for another hour outside of my house. We exchanged numbers and met up a week or so later to continue the conversation over a nearly-bottomless mimosa brunch.
It’s her story to tell, but ultimately Mormonism just didn’t sit right with her and her husband. They ended up leaving it together, something that rarely happens for couples. More often than not, Mormons marry young and stick it out with whichever partner they chose. If one half wants to leave the church down the line, the other often doesn’t. Like the Amish, it’s difficult to leave the culture. The community – even your family – is liable to ostracize you. The odds often feel too high.
I’ve learned this and so much else from my conversations with Mormons over the years. Their religion and culture fascinates me (look up “sealing in the temple” and “endowment ceremony” and you’ll get what I mean). Shows like The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives are trying to illustrate how they’re trying to change the culture of the church, and my thoughts on that are a story for another day. What I will say is that despite its *quirks*, the LDS faith has one thing going for it: the people. Having talked with many a Mormon (and ex-Mormon) like the good Mormon Magnet I am, I can say with full confidence that they are fundamentally good people. I obviously don’t know every Mormon, and I would not extend this glowing review to the church leaders for a number of reasons, but the ones I’ve gotten to know are lovely. After all, Jesus said to love thy neighbor – and with the neighbors I’ve had, that’s never been easier.
Author’s Note: Is anyone else watching The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives?? If so, I need to know your thoughts. (
, I have a feeling you are 😉)
I loved that ! I had no idea what to expect at the start and really enjoyed both the tone and the amount of nuance you shared approaching that topic. Plus, I gained a few insights. Thanks !
This is such a thoughtful reflection, Lauren. I went to high school with a lot of Mormons who seemed to live on the edges of the super restrictive Mormonism we see (i.e. the friends I'm thinking of didn't drink soda but beyond that seemed to live life the same way I grew up). Recently I've met and spend time with several Mormons via my cookbook club and their religion is something that intrigues me but I haven't felt close enough (yet) to talk about. It's a lot different this time around, observing differences in adulthood between my non-religious life and theirs, and the choices around marriage and kids especially, versus teenagers just whittling the time away lol.
Also - your passage about meeting the boy in Seaside - my teenage self is JEALOUS! I LOL'd reading that because every summer we go to Seaside for the 4th of July with good family friends and their daughter is the same age as me. We LIVED for strolling the prom and checking out cute boys and coming up with names for them and dreaming that they'd talk to us lol.