First chapter of my book
Posted: Fri Jun 24, 2011 1:23 am
Personal Testimony
I was born in Keokuk Iowa, and raised in Hamilton, Illinois, in a Catholic family. I was raised with some important sayings. The most important of these were: "If you start telling lies, you will have to keep track of your lies, which becomes impossible. You will end up getting caught," "What you do with your life is much more important than who your ancestors were," and "He is talking through his hat. (for someone like Joseph Smith who makes up ridiculous lies)."
My mother tells me that whenever Mormon missionaries rang the doorbell, we “weren't home.” My mother has told me that she once read a book which presented a Norse scenario which could explain some of the plot for the Book of Mormon. After having read the literature on the subject, I believe that book may have been Hjalmar Holand's Norse Discoveries & Explorations in America, published in 1940. Her conclusions on the subject were somewhat different from Holand's, because she is 1/4 Ho-Chunk (Winnebago), raised in South-East South Dakota. Apparently, Holand was afraid to ask Natives what they thought about the subject. There is a foundation for the belief that the Norse settlements had an impact on the continent. There are Native legends of some desperate people, driven to starvation cannibalism, seeking refuge in the tribes of the Great Lakes. This relates closely to Mormon Chapter 8 and Moroni Chapter nine of the Book of Mormon. The story of I Nephi has many parallels with the story of Eric the Red, from Icelandic literature.
I have Native ancestry on both sides: my mother's mother's mother, and my father's mother's father's mother. I never thought of myself as particularly Native looking, although I do tan nicely, and have strong cheek-bones. We were raised to respect others' religion, and, although we were Catholic, there was great respect for the Amish, and RLDS (Reorganized Church of Latter Day Saints). Although I had trouble with my father because my best friend was a member of the only black family in town, I believe this was more due to pressure on him because of my choice.
I have never visited the Carthage jail, where a "mob martyred Joseph Smith," and never had any reason to. We never attended any Mormon-related events in Nauvoo, and stayed home on those weekends. The park in Nauvoo was always a special attraction. We practiced a very carefully orchestrated indifference to the history of the area. Mormonism was too controversial an issue to discuss in public, because one never knew where others were on the issue. Mom remembers one time when we were visiting Nauvoo. We were touring the LDS (Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints) visitors' sites, and Dad was thirsty. He asked a missionary for some water. In order for him to get a glass of water, we were required to watch an offensive movie.
I remember one time when I told my mother's mother that I liked Mom's family more than I liked my father's family. She angrily told me to never say any such thing again. I think she knew more of the story than she ever let on. Although her father came from a comfortable New Amsterdam Dutch family, they always had a respect for people who had gone through rough times, because of her mother's family's difficulties.
Another time, at around the age of fourteen, I was accosted by a group of boys who wanted me to do something. I had never heard the word they used, but the whole team of enforcers upheld the carnal desires of their leader. Recently, reading Elizabeth Smart's testimony, the threat of harming family if she did not comply struck a chord with my memory, for that is what those boys did. They then spread gossip that I did comply. This was probably a cultural residue from the Mormon era, as the Mormons in the 1840's spread slander against any woman who did not cooperate with polygamy-related teachings.
After High School, I spent one semester at Keokuk Community College. One young man tried to debate politics with me, and insulted my intelligence by saying that the political right is right by definition. When I voiced the opinion in one class that there was underlying Mormon vs. anti-Mormon tension in the area, the teacher made an intimidating comment.
When given the opportunity to go to Quincy College, I went. My parents were concerned about my trusting personality, and were concerned that I might have problems at a public university. However, they were unwilling to let me try the convent. I had thought about majoring in French. I declared a history major: at a Jesuit College, I might have easily gotten into early missionary history. They had no idea what was lurking in my mind. My academic advisor sent me to the counseling center. I decided to major in psychology. The incompetent clown of a counselor, who should never have been working at a Catholic college, detected some issues with sexual inhibition, and encouraged me to drink. My issues with sexual inhibition went away, and I then had intense issues with sexual guilt. I medicated those with more alcohol.
The next years were rough, and I will slide over them, as my troubles weren't directly Mormon-related. I returned home, and accepted my inferior lot in life. I was working as a nursing home activity director, and becoming interested in cognition. My father had a stroke, and died six months later. I became interested in why my father had a reading problem, and came in contact with a friend who had a son who was severely ADHD. My mother told me that if I was not going to get married, I ought to get a career. I decided to return to school and become a school psychologist.
In graduate school, I was severely sexual assaulted, and began abusing alcohol again. I went directly to AA, and did not go through treatment. I remember a Jewish friend who thought that the name of the town "Warsaw" in Hancock County, where my father was raised, was significant. I associate this now with the Holocaust of the Warsaw Ghetto, and the bigotry of some Mormons. There was another young woman from the Keokuk area in the dorm, and we were in agreement on most of the issues. I remember telling someone that the chairman of my thesis committee was named "John Smith," and she thought that was hilarious, probably thinking of Pocahontas.
After graduation, I had trouble finding a job, and ended up in Omaha. There, in AA, I met the man who became my husband. I got a job north of Omaha, and he followed me there. We got married, and I had a son. I enjoyed working as a school psychologist, especially with the Native population in that area. Two and a half years later, I had a daughter. My son started having some strange speech problems, which later turned out to be the beginning of some autistic characteristics.
My supervisor decided to take a cost-cutting measure which is against best practices among school psychologists. I quit my job, and we ended up moving to Kansas City, mostly because my husband's previous ex was complaining about having to raise their sons alone. I worked for one of the worst districts in the country for a year. My marriage deteriorated, and my husband, having previously superficially converted to Catholicism, became a raving Baptist fundamentalist. He demanded that I become a slavish, mindless wife, and believe as he did; otherwise I would go to hell for my devotion to the Pope, the devil incarnate. Looking back, I think that he was threatened by my capabilities and independent spirit. Again, he saw this as a threat to his own masculinity. This may have something to do with Mormon cultural heritage on his part. He seemed to assume that it was his responsibility to lead me to heaven, and he had briefly, before our marriage, explored Islam.
At the time, my son was fascinated with reptiles and amphibians, and wanted to become a veterinarian. His father's extreme creationism destroyed that. My husband fell back in love with his previous ex and spent hours on the phone with her. After having gotten him into counseling twice, called the police on him once, and gone to shelter once, filed for separation once, and then relenting because he was crying (his mother was terminally ill and died), I filed for divorce. During this time I was substitute teaching. My son was having some serious problems at school, and the school social worker told me that the kids were suffering because of problems at home. I suspect that my husband thought that my parenting techniques with our son were contributing to his unique behavior, instead of being in response to his needs.
After the divorce, I had two job offers in the southwestern corner of Kansas. I suspect the problem I had with getting jobs at that time was the fact that I came from the Nauvoo area, and peoples' uncertainty about my personal beliefs, and how that might impact my job. We went west, to hell-town. In interview, one principal warned me that the district had a large Hispanic population. I should have taken that as a warning that this was a threatening issue for him. He did not ask me about my experience with minorities. If he had not been Mormon, he would have done better warning me that there was also a significant LDS population in town.
Early on, my ex was sending me threatening letters, saying that things would turn out badly because I had divorced him, and accusing me of intentionally moving so far away. I was depressed, and there was an incident in the school building where I made a drug-related suicidal gesture. I was then told that they had the right to ask me for United Airlines at any time. I later found out that this was illegal. The principal told me, “This is not the SS,” a reference, I later realized, to the Gestapo. I suspect that the police officer assigned to the building searched my purse to see if there was anything significant there. Early on, the speech clinician made the decision to drop my son from services, saying that his speech problems had resolved. Against my better judgment, and eager to get along, I agreed. Although there was plenty of information in his file about autistic-like characteristics, she ignored this. This speech and language clinician was very difficult because I kept a coffee cup on my desk in our shared office. Another member of the LDS community had a daughter with some mild special education needs. All her needs were met, and more, without question.
There was a girl who enrolled in that building. As the principal and I took her and her mother on a tour of the building, they spoke to each other in a language which I do not believe was Spanish (it could have been a Native language). The principal, in a very hostile way, told them to speak in English. He then turned to me and said I must also stay with English. Hunh? What was that about?? I speak a little bit of French, but that was all. Bizarre. Later, there was a threat to have me deported. HUNH? I was born in the US, of American-born parents. Later, on a Native board, I discovered that this is a pattern of behavior among people who are racist against Native Americans: those racists believe that Natives are not citizens of the United States. They believe that Natives must live on reservations, so that they won't contaminate "true American" culture. Again, this echoes passages from the Book of Mormon.
That principal also threatened me that one day I would become voiceless. Where did this come from?? Later, on reading the Book of Mormon, I could intensely identify with the hero, Korihor.
In staffings, that principal would go on and on, giving his testimony of the relatively minor problems he had overcome. I just listened, wondering why there was so much ego in that man, and thinking of the more significant problems I had been through. He apparently saw my competence as being driven by pride. After I was gone, I heard that this ego-driven preaching had become even worse.
In the psychologists' office, there was a lot of talk about the psychologists who had been hired, but did not stay. That talk was very hostile, and really put those people in a negative light. There was talk about “snipers.” I later understood that this was gossip directed at those who did not conform to the mediocre standards in the office. Gossip would happen, to destroy the professional credibility of anyone who did not conform to mediocrity. And all that was just in the first year. My other two buildings were easy.
My second year, my assignment was changed. I still worked for the male principal, but the new principal I worked for was a militant lesbian, probably in reaction to LDS homophobia. It was a career-wrecking assignment. I was caught between a homophobe and a heterophobe, and their friends. I had to please both, but could please neither, because in pleasing one, I was angering the other. Neither could accept that because I prefer a celibate lifestyle, my underlying sexual preference is my own business.
Another factor with my difficulties was that I discovered that I have a hearing loss. I got hearing aids. A new world opened up, and with it came problems with processing information. In addition, as a person with a hearing loss, I am in the habit of watching peoples' lips for better comprehension. Many people misinterpret this as a sexual, rather than as a communication issue.
I think things began to get much worse when I began researching my geneaology, something that was never discussed in my family. I discovered that my father's mother's father's parents lived in Warsaw, Illinois in 1844. In the office, I wondered out loud whether they could have been involved in the violence against the Mormons in Hancock County at that time. It was very upsetting for me to have discovered this, because any talk about this was prohibited when I was growing up. I went to visit a cousin in Colorado at that time, because she had done some research on the subject.
As the situation got worse and worse, I constantly reminded myself that if I would just do my best, I would eventually be respected and accepted. It never happened, and it could never happen. My Catholicism, my celibate lifestyle, my hearing loss, my race, my son's uniqueness, and my ancestry were things I either had no desire to change, or could not change. I continued to act as if there was nothing unusual about my race and ancestry, and if asked, I would say "English, Irish, and German." I endured false accusations of lesbianism, drug abuse, partying, theft, HIV, and more. The most incredible accusation was that of transsexualism. I knew what it was like to give birth and breastfeed.
The third year was even worse. That year, I had to conform to mediocrity, or lose my job. Everyone was expected to do the job the same way. I was told that I made the other psychologists “look bad.” This expectation of conformity was very similar to the “correlation” efforts within the LDS church. My supervisors kept changing the goals and expectations they had of me. If I fulfilled one set of expectations they would set the bar higher. I could not please them. The speech therapist did not respond to my notifications that she still had to do her part of the job, and I was held responsible. On one occasion, one of my hearing aids was broken, and one of my supervisors sat on that side. Speaking softly and quickly she gave me some instructions, which I misunderstood. Despite my obvious exhaustion and other health issues, they intensified the pressure.
By the time they were done with me, I was so sick and the kids were so out of control, I had to send my daughter to her father. I couldn't send my son, who is more difficult, because his father expected him to jump when his father wanted him to. No, my son jumps when HE wants to. Because of this, his father singled him out for abusive discipline.
Late one Sunday morning, I was seized with intense anger, and obsessive desire to murder someone. I could not get this anger out of my mind. Searching for someone available and qualified to help me get rid of these thoughts, I went back to church, and waited for the noon Mass to end. Our parish priest then experienced what was probably one of his most intense sessions as a counselor. I did not ask for absolution, since the problem was psychological, rather than primarily sinful, and I was perfectly comfortable with him consulting with others. I came to the realization that only through faith could I resolve this anger, once I could localize the source of the problems. I have also come to the realization that if I had been in the habit of receiving the Sacrament of Reconciliation on a regular basis, I might not have gone through all this pain.
When I asked, "Who is doing this to me?" they were amazed. Two highly respected and definitely non-Mormon members of the community finally told me that the primary offenders were Mormons. At that time, if I got anywhere close to even thinking about Mormonism, I would have a panic attack. After being told who was responsible it took me months before I could be more specific than the word "they."
I got another cue when someone told me that part of the dynamics had to do with Mormon pre-existence, and that I had chosen to be born into the life I was living, and therefore deserved it. I then very gradually, as my anxiety could tolerate it, began getting involved in Mormon Studies. In doing so, I discovered that the existence of my family was offensive to faithful LDS, who believe that Joseph Smith's revelation recorded in the Doctrines and Covenants, #121 (see appendix XI; M), was fulfilled: there are no descendants of those who “persecuted” him. We are such descendants, since my father's mother's father's father was among those who attacked the Carthage Jail in 1844, leading to Joseph Smith's death. At some point, they told my son that I was a paranoid schizophrenic, which very effectively shut down the tenuous communication links we had, while encouraging him to neglect his own issues.
As I began work on this book, connected with the Internet, I began to realize that there are some very nasty people on the Internet. Some of their techniques resemble the practice of sniping, where the gossipers are anonymous, and difficult to trace. Becoming Evil: How Ordinary People Commit Mass Genocide and Mass Killing (Waller, 2002) covers depersonalization of the enemy extensively, along with anonymity of the perpetrators, in his discussion of the sociological dynamics that can escalate to the point of genocide. I began by researching, on a Native forum, any evidence for the Book of Mormon in Native legends. They confirmed what I had been taught. From there, I had a brief stay at Mormon Apologetics and Discussion board, naïvely attempting to communicate with them. Their hostility and harassment were obvious from the first moment of my appearance, and I became radicalized. I then participated at exMormon.org, and gleaned more information and understanding of negative aspects of LDS culture and history. From there, I went to http://forums.catholic.com/forumdisplay.php?f=14, where the battles had raged for years. There, I slowly came to realize that, no matter how hostile LDS people were towards me because of my religion and cultural heritage, responding with anger only made things worse. I had no choice but to continue with my efforts to understand why, in my ignorance, I had been victimized. I finally found a home among scholars at http://www.mormondiscussions.com, where critics are informed and many defenders are liberal in their attitudes.
During this time, my son and I moved to Wisconsin very suddenly, when it became clear that he was not going to graduate because he rarely got up early enough to meet the bus, and often refused to get out of bed at all. He hated school, because it was a bad place for him. One assistant principal told me that my son was fated to become a cattle-rustler. During the move, I discovered an essay that he had written, comparing how they treated him in that town to his childhood activity of burning ants with a magnifying glass. Both kids are grown, now. I really couldn't get any kind of recovery until I moved to Wisconsin, where my mother and sister and her family have moved.
The following book is a response to what happened during my sojourn through the purgatory of southwest Kansas. With an open mind, I explored the culture, scriptures, and history of Mormonism, with the understanding that the Book of Mormon is its heart. As Luigi Guissani said in The Religious Sense (1990), an open mind is a sign of faith, and Jesus taught in parables so that his followers might learn critical thinking skills. Thus I began this research project.
I was born in Keokuk Iowa, and raised in Hamilton, Illinois, in a Catholic family. I was raised with some important sayings. The most important of these were: "If you start telling lies, you will have to keep track of your lies, which becomes impossible. You will end up getting caught," "What you do with your life is much more important than who your ancestors were," and "He is talking through his hat. (for someone like Joseph Smith who makes up ridiculous lies)."
My mother tells me that whenever Mormon missionaries rang the doorbell, we “weren't home.” My mother has told me that she once read a book which presented a Norse scenario which could explain some of the plot for the Book of Mormon. After having read the literature on the subject, I believe that book may have been Hjalmar Holand's Norse Discoveries & Explorations in America, published in 1940. Her conclusions on the subject were somewhat different from Holand's, because she is 1/4 Ho-Chunk (Winnebago), raised in South-East South Dakota. Apparently, Holand was afraid to ask Natives what they thought about the subject. There is a foundation for the belief that the Norse settlements had an impact on the continent. There are Native legends of some desperate people, driven to starvation cannibalism, seeking refuge in the tribes of the Great Lakes. This relates closely to Mormon Chapter 8 and Moroni Chapter nine of the Book of Mormon. The story of I Nephi has many parallels with the story of Eric the Red, from Icelandic literature.
I have Native ancestry on both sides: my mother's mother's mother, and my father's mother's father's mother. I never thought of myself as particularly Native looking, although I do tan nicely, and have strong cheek-bones. We were raised to respect others' religion, and, although we were Catholic, there was great respect for the Amish, and RLDS (Reorganized Church of Latter Day Saints). Although I had trouble with my father because my best friend was a member of the only black family in town, I believe this was more due to pressure on him because of my choice.
I have never visited the Carthage jail, where a "mob martyred Joseph Smith," and never had any reason to. We never attended any Mormon-related events in Nauvoo, and stayed home on those weekends. The park in Nauvoo was always a special attraction. We practiced a very carefully orchestrated indifference to the history of the area. Mormonism was too controversial an issue to discuss in public, because one never knew where others were on the issue. Mom remembers one time when we were visiting Nauvoo. We were touring the LDS (Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints) visitors' sites, and Dad was thirsty. He asked a missionary for some water. In order for him to get a glass of water, we were required to watch an offensive movie.
I remember one time when I told my mother's mother that I liked Mom's family more than I liked my father's family. She angrily told me to never say any such thing again. I think she knew more of the story than she ever let on. Although her father came from a comfortable New Amsterdam Dutch family, they always had a respect for people who had gone through rough times, because of her mother's family's difficulties.
Another time, at around the age of fourteen, I was accosted by a group of boys who wanted me to do something. I had never heard the word they used, but the whole team of enforcers upheld the carnal desires of their leader. Recently, reading Elizabeth Smart's testimony, the threat of harming family if she did not comply struck a chord with my memory, for that is what those boys did. They then spread gossip that I did comply. This was probably a cultural residue from the Mormon era, as the Mormons in the 1840's spread slander against any woman who did not cooperate with polygamy-related teachings.
After High School, I spent one semester at Keokuk Community College. One young man tried to debate politics with me, and insulted my intelligence by saying that the political right is right by definition. When I voiced the opinion in one class that there was underlying Mormon vs. anti-Mormon tension in the area, the teacher made an intimidating comment.
When given the opportunity to go to Quincy College, I went. My parents were concerned about my trusting personality, and were concerned that I might have problems at a public university. However, they were unwilling to let me try the convent. I had thought about majoring in French. I declared a history major: at a Jesuit College, I might have easily gotten into early missionary history. They had no idea what was lurking in my mind. My academic advisor sent me to the counseling center. I decided to major in psychology. The incompetent clown of a counselor, who should never have been working at a Catholic college, detected some issues with sexual inhibition, and encouraged me to drink. My issues with sexual inhibition went away, and I then had intense issues with sexual guilt. I medicated those with more alcohol.
The next years were rough, and I will slide over them, as my troubles weren't directly Mormon-related. I returned home, and accepted my inferior lot in life. I was working as a nursing home activity director, and becoming interested in cognition. My father had a stroke, and died six months later. I became interested in why my father had a reading problem, and came in contact with a friend who had a son who was severely ADHD. My mother told me that if I was not going to get married, I ought to get a career. I decided to return to school and become a school psychologist.
In graduate school, I was severely sexual assaulted, and began abusing alcohol again. I went directly to AA, and did not go through treatment. I remember a Jewish friend who thought that the name of the town "Warsaw" in Hancock County, where my father was raised, was significant. I associate this now with the Holocaust of the Warsaw Ghetto, and the bigotry of some Mormons. There was another young woman from the Keokuk area in the dorm, and we were in agreement on most of the issues. I remember telling someone that the chairman of my thesis committee was named "John Smith," and she thought that was hilarious, probably thinking of Pocahontas.
After graduation, I had trouble finding a job, and ended up in Omaha. There, in AA, I met the man who became my husband. I got a job north of Omaha, and he followed me there. We got married, and I had a son. I enjoyed working as a school psychologist, especially with the Native population in that area. Two and a half years later, I had a daughter. My son started having some strange speech problems, which later turned out to be the beginning of some autistic characteristics.
My supervisor decided to take a cost-cutting measure which is against best practices among school psychologists. I quit my job, and we ended up moving to Kansas City, mostly because my husband's previous ex was complaining about having to raise their sons alone. I worked for one of the worst districts in the country for a year. My marriage deteriorated, and my husband, having previously superficially converted to Catholicism, became a raving Baptist fundamentalist. He demanded that I become a slavish, mindless wife, and believe as he did; otherwise I would go to hell for my devotion to the Pope, the devil incarnate. Looking back, I think that he was threatened by my capabilities and independent spirit. Again, he saw this as a threat to his own masculinity. This may have something to do with Mormon cultural heritage on his part. He seemed to assume that it was his responsibility to lead me to heaven, and he had briefly, before our marriage, explored Islam.
At the time, my son was fascinated with reptiles and amphibians, and wanted to become a veterinarian. His father's extreme creationism destroyed that. My husband fell back in love with his previous ex and spent hours on the phone with her. After having gotten him into counseling twice, called the police on him once, and gone to shelter once, filed for separation once, and then relenting because he was crying (his mother was terminally ill and died), I filed for divorce. During this time I was substitute teaching. My son was having some serious problems at school, and the school social worker told me that the kids were suffering because of problems at home. I suspect that my husband thought that my parenting techniques with our son were contributing to his unique behavior, instead of being in response to his needs.
After the divorce, I had two job offers in the southwestern corner of Kansas. I suspect the problem I had with getting jobs at that time was the fact that I came from the Nauvoo area, and peoples' uncertainty about my personal beliefs, and how that might impact my job. We went west, to hell-town. In interview, one principal warned me that the district had a large Hispanic population. I should have taken that as a warning that this was a threatening issue for him. He did not ask me about my experience with minorities. If he had not been Mormon, he would have done better warning me that there was also a significant LDS population in town.
Early on, my ex was sending me threatening letters, saying that things would turn out badly because I had divorced him, and accusing me of intentionally moving so far away. I was depressed, and there was an incident in the school building where I made a drug-related suicidal gesture. I was then told that they had the right to ask me for United Airlines at any time. I later found out that this was illegal. The principal told me, “This is not the SS,” a reference, I later realized, to the Gestapo. I suspect that the police officer assigned to the building searched my purse to see if there was anything significant there. Early on, the speech clinician made the decision to drop my son from services, saying that his speech problems had resolved. Against my better judgment, and eager to get along, I agreed. Although there was plenty of information in his file about autistic-like characteristics, she ignored this. This speech and language clinician was very difficult because I kept a coffee cup on my desk in our shared office. Another member of the LDS community had a daughter with some mild special education needs. All her needs were met, and more, without question.
There was a girl who enrolled in that building. As the principal and I took her and her mother on a tour of the building, they spoke to each other in a language which I do not believe was Spanish (it could have been a Native language). The principal, in a very hostile way, told them to speak in English. He then turned to me and said I must also stay with English. Hunh? What was that about?? I speak a little bit of French, but that was all. Bizarre. Later, there was a threat to have me deported. HUNH? I was born in the US, of American-born parents. Later, on a Native board, I discovered that this is a pattern of behavior among people who are racist against Native Americans: those racists believe that Natives are not citizens of the United States. They believe that Natives must live on reservations, so that they won't contaminate "true American" culture. Again, this echoes passages from the Book of Mormon.
That principal also threatened me that one day I would become voiceless. Where did this come from?? Later, on reading the Book of Mormon, I could intensely identify with the hero, Korihor.
In staffings, that principal would go on and on, giving his testimony of the relatively minor problems he had overcome. I just listened, wondering why there was so much ego in that man, and thinking of the more significant problems I had been through. He apparently saw my competence as being driven by pride. After I was gone, I heard that this ego-driven preaching had become even worse.
In the psychologists' office, there was a lot of talk about the psychologists who had been hired, but did not stay. That talk was very hostile, and really put those people in a negative light. There was talk about “snipers.” I later understood that this was gossip directed at those who did not conform to the mediocre standards in the office. Gossip would happen, to destroy the professional credibility of anyone who did not conform to mediocrity. And all that was just in the first year. My other two buildings were easy.
My second year, my assignment was changed. I still worked for the male principal, but the new principal I worked for was a militant lesbian, probably in reaction to LDS homophobia. It was a career-wrecking assignment. I was caught between a homophobe and a heterophobe, and their friends. I had to please both, but could please neither, because in pleasing one, I was angering the other. Neither could accept that because I prefer a celibate lifestyle, my underlying sexual preference is my own business.
Another factor with my difficulties was that I discovered that I have a hearing loss. I got hearing aids. A new world opened up, and with it came problems with processing information. In addition, as a person with a hearing loss, I am in the habit of watching peoples' lips for better comprehension. Many people misinterpret this as a sexual, rather than as a communication issue.
I think things began to get much worse when I began researching my geneaology, something that was never discussed in my family. I discovered that my father's mother's father's parents lived in Warsaw, Illinois in 1844. In the office, I wondered out loud whether they could have been involved in the violence against the Mormons in Hancock County at that time. It was very upsetting for me to have discovered this, because any talk about this was prohibited when I was growing up. I went to visit a cousin in Colorado at that time, because she had done some research on the subject.
As the situation got worse and worse, I constantly reminded myself that if I would just do my best, I would eventually be respected and accepted. It never happened, and it could never happen. My Catholicism, my celibate lifestyle, my hearing loss, my race, my son's uniqueness, and my ancestry were things I either had no desire to change, or could not change. I continued to act as if there was nothing unusual about my race and ancestry, and if asked, I would say "English, Irish, and German." I endured false accusations of lesbianism, drug abuse, partying, theft, HIV, and more. The most incredible accusation was that of transsexualism. I knew what it was like to give birth and breastfeed.
The third year was even worse. That year, I had to conform to mediocrity, or lose my job. Everyone was expected to do the job the same way. I was told that I made the other psychologists “look bad.” This expectation of conformity was very similar to the “correlation” efforts within the LDS church. My supervisors kept changing the goals and expectations they had of me. If I fulfilled one set of expectations they would set the bar higher. I could not please them. The speech therapist did not respond to my notifications that she still had to do her part of the job, and I was held responsible. On one occasion, one of my hearing aids was broken, and one of my supervisors sat on that side. Speaking softly and quickly she gave me some instructions, which I misunderstood. Despite my obvious exhaustion and other health issues, they intensified the pressure.
By the time they were done with me, I was so sick and the kids were so out of control, I had to send my daughter to her father. I couldn't send my son, who is more difficult, because his father expected him to jump when his father wanted him to. No, my son jumps when HE wants to. Because of this, his father singled him out for abusive discipline.
Late one Sunday morning, I was seized with intense anger, and obsessive desire to murder someone. I could not get this anger out of my mind. Searching for someone available and qualified to help me get rid of these thoughts, I went back to church, and waited for the noon Mass to end. Our parish priest then experienced what was probably one of his most intense sessions as a counselor. I did not ask for absolution, since the problem was psychological, rather than primarily sinful, and I was perfectly comfortable with him consulting with others. I came to the realization that only through faith could I resolve this anger, once I could localize the source of the problems. I have also come to the realization that if I had been in the habit of receiving the Sacrament of Reconciliation on a regular basis, I might not have gone through all this pain.
When I asked, "Who is doing this to me?" they were amazed. Two highly respected and definitely non-Mormon members of the community finally told me that the primary offenders were Mormons. At that time, if I got anywhere close to even thinking about Mormonism, I would have a panic attack. After being told who was responsible it took me months before I could be more specific than the word "they."
I got another cue when someone told me that part of the dynamics had to do with Mormon pre-existence, and that I had chosen to be born into the life I was living, and therefore deserved it. I then very gradually, as my anxiety could tolerate it, began getting involved in Mormon Studies. In doing so, I discovered that the existence of my family was offensive to faithful LDS, who believe that Joseph Smith's revelation recorded in the Doctrines and Covenants, #121 (see appendix XI; M), was fulfilled: there are no descendants of those who “persecuted” him. We are such descendants, since my father's mother's father's father was among those who attacked the Carthage Jail in 1844, leading to Joseph Smith's death. At some point, they told my son that I was a paranoid schizophrenic, which very effectively shut down the tenuous communication links we had, while encouraging him to neglect his own issues.
As I began work on this book, connected with the Internet, I began to realize that there are some very nasty people on the Internet. Some of their techniques resemble the practice of sniping, where the gossipers are anonymous, and difficult to trace. Becoming Evil: How Ordinary People Commit Mass Genocide and Mass Killing (Waller, 2002) covers depersonalization of the enemy extensively, along with anonymity of the perpetrators, in his discussion of the sociological dynamics that can escalate to the point of genocide. I began by researching, on a Native forum, any evidence for the Book of Mormon in Native legends. They confirmed what I had been taught. From there, I had a brief stay at Mormon Apologetics and Discussion board, naïvely attempting to communicate with them. Their hostility and harassment were obvious from the first moment of my appearance, and I became radicalized. I then participated at exMormon.org, and gleaned more information and understanding of negative aspects of LDS culture and history. From there, I went to http://forums.catholic.com/forumdisplay.php?f=14, where the battles had raged for years. There, I slowly came to realize that, no matter how hostile LDS people were towards me because of my religion and cultural heritage, responding with anger only made things worse. I had no choice but to continue with my efforts to understand why, in my ignorance, I had been victimized. I finally found a home among scholars at http://www.mormondiscussions.com, where critics are informed and many defenders are liberal in their attitudes.
During this time, my son and I moved to Wisconsin very suddenly, when it became clear that he was not going to graduate because he rarely got up early enough to meet the bus, and often refused to get out of bed at all. He hated school, because it was a bad place for him. One assistant principal told me that my son was fated to become a cattle-rustler. During the move, I discovered an essay that he had written, comparing how they treated him in that town to his childhood activity of burning ants with a magnifying glass. Both kids are grown, now. I really couldn't get any kind of recovery until I moved to Wisconsin, where my mother and sister and her family have moved.
The following book is a response to what happened during my sojourn through the purgatory of southwest Kansas. With an open mind, I explored the culture, scriptures, and history of Mormonism, with the understanding that the Book of Mormon is its heart. As Luigi Guissani said in The Religious Sense (1990), an open mind is a sign of faith, and Jesus taught in parables so that his followers might learn critical thinking skills. Thus I began this research project.