anti-mormonism on my mind

It's like a train wreck--I can't look away. Every time there is something about Mormons in the news (which has been a lot since the Romney campaign started) I have to read it, though it often pains me.

For me and some of my close friends, it reached a fever pitch when my good friend Emily, who does reviews for a Bay Area website, went to see a certain well-known comedian who went on a seemingly hateful tirade against Mormons in his act. She decided to say something about it in her review, and unleashed a tidal wave of anti-Mormon vitriol. The comedian himself commented on the website and joined the fray; it quickly became one of the most-read (and commented) articles ever on the site. Fuelling the whole bruehaha was a surprising number of people with strong feelings against the LDS faith.

I was stunned. I went to work that day with a pit in my stomach. I was the only Mormon in my department at a very liberal University. Would my friends and co-workers say those things about Mormons? Would they respond in the same way? I had only been treated with respect. But I wondered.

I wondered because some of the same authors and intellecuals I had my students read started making anti-Mormon comments. Christopher Hitchens, for example, called Mormonism a "mad cult" on Slate.com. I started to notice things, like the fact that there are a few persistent (though bedraggled and unenthusiastic) picketers in front of my church every Sunday. I was invited to dinner with one of my friends' families, well-educated Bostonians, who surmised that Romney had flip-flopped on the issues because "Joe Smith must've told him to be a fascist."

I've long noticed that people say and publish statements about Mormons that would be utterly unacceptable if the word "Mormon" were replaced with "black," "Jewish," "gay" or "Muslim." I am thankful that our society offers protection to minority groups--and wonder why Mormons are exempt. Several years ago, my favorite radio show (produced by Ira Glass, a personal hero) aired an essay by one of its regular contributors about how much he hates Mormons. The writer sits in his dentist's chair (his dentist is Mormon) and seethes with disgust for the faith while listening to his dentist talk to his assistant about his mission call. "Why?" I wanted to write This American Life. "Why is this okay, considered entertaining, when if you wrote this way about almost any other group it would be outrageous bigotry?" I was just out of college, had moved to the big city, and I was jarred by that essay--it made me feel more than confused. It made me feel vaguely...threatened.

All of these things piqued my paranoia that anti-Mormonism is more rampant than I had realized, and that the media's non-PC and sometimes harsh treatment of Mormons has sent the message to individuals that they could do the same. I felt somewhat validated when I saw this Wall Street Journal article this week titled "Mormons Dismayed by Harsh Spotlight." One quote reads, "I don't think that any of us had any idea how much anti-Mormon stuff was out there," said Armand Mauss, a Mormon sociologist who has written extensively about church culture, in an interview last week. "The Romney campaign has given the church a wake-up call. There is the equivalent of anti-Semitism still out there." I'm not sure if this should make me feel better because the problem is being taken seriously, or just freaked-out.

I've spoken to many friends who have noticed this, too. But everyone seems to have a different take on it. People who I respect fall on both sides of the camp--those who want to take a more aggressive approach and would like to see something like an Anti-defamation league, and those who are pacifist. There are also those who don't think there is a problem at all, but even the media is starting to confirm what many of us have sensed.

I take it all so personally, I actually feel kind of paralyzed. I have no idea what to do. Unfortunately, I think one solution for myself is the one that makes me most uncomfortable--outting myself often and openly. Confession: I sometimes avoid divulging that I'm Mormon if it's convenient, and I can get away with it. For example, I never divulge to my students that I'm LDS if I can help it. I figure, it opens a whole can of worms that have nothing to do with our course work, so why make it complicated? Especially in a a competitive academic environment in which background and education are often weighed and measured, it seems like a hassle if not a professional hazard.

Even as I write this, I know that it's incredibly cowardly and silly. There are lot of people with much more exposure and a lot more to lose than I do, who handle this all without breaking a sweat. And, of course, The fact that I'm Mormon might have something to do with what I'm teaching, afterall. I try to choose readings that make my students (and myself) think hard about pre-conceived notions and biases. Why should I shy away from my own (sometimes controversial) faith? Besides, I might learn something myself, even if it's just learning to respond better or getting a tougher skin. I might also be surprised that what I sometimes take for a negative response to my faith might just be naivety or surprise.

A few months ago, I went to see a play one of my former students put on. She was one of my star students, and we have kept in touch. She eagerly introduced me to her parents. They asked where I did my undergrad, and when I responded that I went to BYU, there was an awkward pause. I assumed they were thinking, "We paid all this money to have our daughter taught by a BYU grad?" and that their opinion of me slid just a little. Or, maybe they were just caught off-guard, or maybe they had indigestion. But who's to say maybe their expectations or ideas about Mormons didn't shift just a little for the better? I don't know. But I do know that when I hide my faith, that last scenario can't happen. And isn't that what I'm hoping for here, afterall?

super-dee-dooper tuesday

Yee-frickin-haw! This is the most fun election we've had...well, ever as far as I can remember. For once in my life I feel like there is the possibility for real change from both parties, instead of feeling jaded and cynical and like I might as well put down "Big Oil" or "The Military-Industrial Complex" as a write-in candidate.

I'm usually about as interested in politics as I am in sports (i.e. waste of time even for entertainment purposes). Sometimes I just feel defeated and depressed about emotional red-herring issues that steal the spotlight from stuff that I care about and seems to have a real effect on our future and quality of life, like the environment, foreign oil, and special interest lobbying. I've had to do some digging to get past the usual media garbage, though.

Where do you go to find out where candidates stand on the issues? Where do you go to find out whether that candidate's solutions are actually viable? What issues matter to you?

Viva Democracy!!

For some interesting thoughts on voting, see Liv's post.

field trippin'

B likes to go on Saturday field trips. Meaning, he likes to walk around the city and see what we find.

I like field trips too, but

1) B has a much greater propensity for walking than I do (his "quick walks" have been called "death marches" by friends and loved ones) and

2) NYC is freakin' cold.

Saturday it warmed up a little, and he talked me into leaving the house by reminding me that Magnolia Bakery just opened an uptown location in our neighborhood. As usual, butter and sugar can get me to do almost anything.

First we stopped here for a vanilla-vanilla. Breakfast of champions.

I spotted these on the sidewalk and remembered that winter does actually produce some of my favorite things.

And then what did my keen and perceptive eyes behold? Yes, you read it correctly. The cheese AND antiques store. Seemingly, these two don't go together. But really, it's quite simple. You just have a cheese counter on one side of your store, complete with a display fridge and some nice breads. Then on the other side--antiques, duh. I can't believe nobody thought of it before. (I got some triple creme that is unbelievable, btw.)

I finished my afternoon here, admiring nautical wall art in the dimly-lit back room, listening to stories and poems about lightning and forbidden lovers and half-blind brothers. (Thanks to Olivia and Nicole and their talented amigos).

If you have a friend who likes mundane adventures
If you make a friend with a penchant for odd pairings
If you have a friend of a friend who can make a whole story around the words "confetti" and "blue" and "ground"

It is quite possible to be less-than-rich and have a perfect Saturday in New York. In fact, it is quite possible that sometimes the less-than rich have the most perfect New York days.

one of his

This is a person who, every time he spoke, restored my faith in the human capacity for goodness and love. This may be the only person I'll ever miss who I didn't actually know. That's part of his gift--I think many of us feel, in a way, one of his.

warming my heart

I think I've found the place I want to live. It's the Arizona Biltmore Hotel, in Phoenix. This is the time of year when B Dub and I hunker down with our Netflix, order delivery, and surf the web fantasizing about warmer locales (15 degrees and below most of the weekend).

B is from Arizona, and was holding out on me. We've done the Taliesin West tour (loved it) of Frank Lloyd's Wright's school in Phoenix, but he just told me about the masterpiece of hospitality designed by one of Wright's proteges, Albert McArthur, built in 1929. Some fun facts about the "where I'd rather be" spot of the moment:

Famous weddings at the Biltmore include Sandra Day O'Connor's.

Celebrity honeymooners include Ronald and Nancy Reagan.

The words to the song "White Christmas" were penned poolside at the Arizona Biltmore, by Irving Berlin.

The Biltmore was owned for many years by the Wrigley family, of the chewing gum fortune.

Marilyn Monroe deemed the Biltmore's her "favorite pool."

I'm sure the pool is grand, but I think the interior is the most impressive--I wouldn't mind reading my paper here, having dinner with friends here, and if you're having a wedding reception or gala affair anytime soon, may I humbly suggest this spot, featuring a gold-leaf celing.

If you live in Arizona, or are going anytime soon, please go the the Biltmore and tell me if it's as wonderful as it looks to me right now, while I'm huddled next to the radiator.

back...home?

After a long winter's break, I'm back in NYC for the first time in a month. It's always a weird transition back to the city after I've been away for a while. I always think of New York as a place I live until....something. Until I can't stand living without a car, or washer/dryer, or dish washer, need to own real estate, go broke, finally grow up. I don't really live here. I just live here, until.

Now that I've been here for 3.5 years, 1.5 years longer than I was supposed to, it really does kind of feel like coming home. It doesn't hurt that I had my own little apartment and B Dub to come home to. While I was out and about running errands in my ginormous caterpillar coat, once again re-adjusting to post-car life, I stopped at the farmer's market and bought some hot apple cider.

Hot apple cider, it turns out, is not really a good street accessory for a New Yorker. You can't walk fast (it threatens to splash all over your hand) and you can't get stuff done--banking, grocery shopping--all two-handed activities. So, after a couple of frustrated blocks, I pulled over on the sidewalk and stopped. I just stood there and enjoyed my cider--and realized--I never really stop on the sidewalk...ever. I looked up and down the street and saw how pretty the skyline was against the clouds. I saw a person playing chess on the street. I saw another person selling used books from a card table. In a third-story window overhead someone playing basketball made a basket in an indoor children's gym. Two little girls walked by and said goodbye to each other.

I was struck by how unusual and mundane this place is. I should probably stop on the sidewalk in New York while until lasts.

i hereby resolve

Do you fear confrontation?

Do you have trouble expressing your wishes, especially when put on the spot?

Do you decline to voice your desires, telling yourself you're being polite, and then harbor resentment?

Do you find that you're so out of practice handling conflict situations, that when you do, you're stilted and create the exact awkward situation you were afraid of in the first place?

Do you find that when someone exercises bad manners--such as butting in front of you in line and then telling you to f** off--you are speechless and ill-prepared?

Well then, my friend, join the club--because I do--to all of the above. My New Year's resolution is to be more direct. Take note, this does not mean rude. One of my pet peeves (aside from my own in-directness) is insensitivity in the name of "just being direct." I mean, I want to be gracious when, for example, my dear history buff uncle wants to accompany on a research trip, and I know he will take over and completely distract me from doing any real history research. I want to be able to say "no" in no unclear terms, but I want those not-unclear terms to be, you know, gracious.

If you have any tips on gracious directness, please let me know. I've got a whole year to work on it.

(I know, you were thinking my resolution was to stop blogging. Not true, but actually getting on the computer to do real work isn't a half bad idea.... :)