Bad Mormon

1. Growing Up "Born in the Covenant" and Feeling Set Apart

I was what they called a BIC in my church, which meant I was “born in the covenant.”

A privileged start. Growing up Mormon, the author felt part of a chosen family, believing her faith provided a superior way of life. Being "Born in the Covenant" (BIC) meant her parents were married in the temple before her birth, granting her perceived inherent blessings and a sense of being set apart from the "lone and dreary world" outside the church's boundaries. This early indoctrination fostered a strong sense of identity tied to her faith and family.

An insular world. Life was structured around church activities and friends, creating a safe, predictable environment. Sundays were strictly family and church days, reinforcing the community's distinctness. This upbringing instilled a belief that Mormons "had it figured out," possessing the answers to life's big questions and a duty to share their "plan of happiness" with others.

Early lessons. The author learned the importance of rules and boundaries, often framed as protection rather than restriction. Experiences like being locked outside her backyard gate after venturing into forbidden territory reinforced the idea that staying within prescribed limits was for her safety and well-being, a metaphor for the perceived dangers outside the church.

2. The Strict Binary World of Mormonism and Early Disobedience

From the time I was born, I’d been indoctrinated to think in terms of binaries. Black or white, right or wrong, everything could be traced back to good or evil, God or Satan.

No gray areas. The author's upbringing emphasized a strict, binary view of the world, leaving no room for nuance or complexity. This black-and-white thinking extended to choices, behaviors, and even people, categorizing everything as either good (aligned with God) or bad (aligned with Satan). This rigid framework made navigating the complexities of life challenging.

Early acts of rebellion. Despite the strict rules, the author exhibited early signs of a rebellious spirit and a desire to explore beyond the boundaries. Incidents like cutting the curtains with scissors while pretending to be a robot or sneaking out at night revealed a natural inclination towards curiosity and pushing limits, which often clashed with the expectation of obedience and conformity.

Shame and control. These early acts of disobedience were met with attempts to control and mold her behavior, often framed as concern for her well-being. Being told she was acting out due to insecurity about her appearance and being put on a strict exercise regimen highlighted the pressure to conform to specific ideals, particularly for women, where being "small, quiet, and dutiful" was valued over being "loud over ladylike, crude over cultured, chubby over chaste."

3. The Sacred Secrecy and Peculiar Rituals of the Temple

Everyone I knew and trusted had been through the temple and accepted the rituals and rites of passage as not only a sacred secret but something beautiful, eternal, and divine.

A hidden world. Despite growing up immersed in Mormon culture, the author knew almost nothing about the actual rituals performed inside the temple until she prepared for her mission. The temple was presented as a sacred, beautiful place, but its ceremonies, clothing (like the green aprons and robes), and oaths were kept strictly secret, even from family members who had been through them.

The endowment ceremony. The temple endowment involved symbolic washings and anointings, putting on sacred garments and robes, watching a film reenacting the creation story and Adam and Eve's fall, participating in a prayer circle with specific hand gestures, and going through a veil with secret handshakes and passwords to symbolically enter God's presence. The experience was a mix of profound spiritual feelings and bewildering, sometimes awkward, rituals.

Secrecy and conformity. The intense secrecy surrounding the temple rituals created a powerful sense of in-group belonging but also fostered confusion and a feeling of being "in on a joke" that wasn't funny. The expectation was to accept the rituals as sacred and divine without question, reinforced by the fact that trusted family and friends had done the same. Questioning the absurdity felt like questioning the faith itself and risking alienation.

4. Missionary Life: Performance, Obedience, and Hidden Selves

The capacity to shut off an entire part of yourself is a terrifying thing. Even more thrilling and terrifying is the capacity to do it well.

A new identity. Serving a mission required shedding one's former identity and fully embracing the role of a missionary, adhering to strict rules and a demanding schedule. The author found it necessary to create a "Glinda bubble" of protection, shutting off parts of herself like social anxiety and empathy to cope with the constant rejection and challenges of proselytizing.

Obedience and performance. Missionary work emphasized 100% obedience and a focus on outward performance, such as knocking on doors ("sonner, sonner, sonner") and following prescribed teaching methods (like the "one-minute rule" of kneeling in prayer immediately). This focus on external actions sometimes overshadowed genuine connection or understanding of the people they were trying to convert.

Internal conflict. The mission highlighted the tension between the ideal of joyful service and the reality of the grueling work and internal struggles. Experiences like witnessing a fellow missionary's breakdown over the perceived damnation of the people or the author's own moments of doubt and exhaustion revealed the emotional toll of maintaining a facade of unwavering faith and happiness while suppressing personal feelings and questions.

5. The Pressure to Marry and the Reality of a "Mormon" Marriage

I thought being cherished and protected was better than being respected and heard. But when I actually had to live this way, the reality of being just a helpmeet was much different in practice than it was in theory.

The ultimate goal. For Mormon women, marriage, particularly temple marriage, is presented as the primary goal and the path to eternal salvation and happiness. The author felt immense pressure to marry after graduating from BYU, viewing it as the next essential step and a validation of her worthiness and adherence to the "Plan of Happiness."

Unequal covenants. The temple marriage ceremony involves the woman covenanting to obey her husband, while the man covenants to preside and provide. This patriarchal structure, romanticized in theory as being cherished and protected, proved challenging in practice, as the author felt her own ambitions and desires were secondary to her role as a "helpmeet" and her husband's needs.

Unmet expectations. The reality of marriage often fell short of the fairy tale envisioned, revealing incompatibilities and a lack of deep connection. The author's marriage, despite outward appearances of success and adherence to church standards, became performative, with both partners struggling to reconcile their true selves with the roles they were expected to play, leading to loneliness and discontent.

6. Balancing Personal Ambition with Prescribed Gender Roles

I was embodying the unique paradox of being an overachiever and a Mormon woman who finally got her man.

Conflicting desires. The author possessed natural ambition, drive, and entrepreneurial spirit, evident in her early business ventures like Steelhead Designs and Old Nauvoo. However, these qualities often clashed with the prescribed role of a Mormon woman, whose primary focus was expected to be on homemaking, motherhood, and supporting her husband's endeavors.

Ambition sidelined. Marriage, while fulfilling the societal and religious expectation, required the author to suppress her own professional aspirations. Her contributions, like building the Old Nauvoo business, were often minimized or taken over by her husband, reinforcing the idea that her role was supportive rather than leading.

Finding purpose within limits. The author sought fulfillment within the confines of her prescribed roles, excelling at homemaking, motherhood, and church callings like Relief Society President. While these roles provided purpose and community, they couldn't entirely satisfy her inherent drive and desire for personal accomplishment outside the domestic or church sphere.

7. Divorce as a Catalyst for Questioning Faith and Identity

Billy was divorcing me. How was I going to do this? How was I going to face my friends, my family, myself, my kids and tell them that I had failed?

The unthinkable. Divorce was not a concept the author grew up with or saw modeled in her family or community. It represented a failure of the "Plan of Happiness" and a deviation from the expected path of eternal marriage. The impending divorce felt like a personal failure and brought immense shame and fear of judgment from her insular community.

Shattered reality. The end of her marriage forced the author to confront the performative nature of her life and the cracks in the foundation of her faith. The belief that adherence to gospel principles would guarantee a successful marriage proved untrue, leading to a crisis of faith and a questioning of the doctrines and promises she had built her life upon.

Seeking support, finding judgment. Sharing her struggles with family and church leaders often resulted in responses that prioritized maintaining the appearance of faith and marriage over her personal well-being. Being told to "fix it" or that she had the "capacity to bridge the gap" reinforced the idea that her happiness was secondary to preserving the institution of marriage and the family unit, even if it meant personal sacrifice.

8. Finding Freedom and Authenticity Outside the Church's Embrace

Run. Run, and don’t look back.

A new perspective. The advice from her Relief Society counselor to "Run" marked a turning point, offering the first validation that leaving a difficult situation was an acceptable option, even within the context of faith. This moment challenged the ingrained belief that enduring suffering within marriage was always the righteous path.

Embracing freedom. Billy's departure, initially perceived as a failure, gradually opened the door to newfound freedom and the opportunity to explore aspects of herself that had been suppressed. The absence of constant scrutiny and the need to perform allowed her to shed the "Glinda bubble" and experiment with living authentically, even if it meant engaging in behaviors previously considered "bad."

Building a new community. Connecting with friends who were also navigating life outside strict Mormon norms, including those who were gay or no longer practicing, provided a crucial support system. These friendships offered acceptance and understanding, allowing the author to reconcile her faith heritage with her evolving identity and openly discuss the dissonance she felt.

9. Building a New Life and Business on Self-Worth, Not Doctrine

For the first time in my life, I felt wanted for my flaws, not just my facade.

Entrepreneurial spirit reborn. Divorce and financial constraints reignited the author's entrepreneurial drive. She leveraged her skills and creativity, particularly in photography and marketing, to build a successful business, Beauty Lab + Laser. This venture became a source of purpose, financial independence, and validation outside the traditional Mormon framework.

Disrupting the norm. Beauty Lab + Laser challenged industry standards by prioritizing transparency, affordability (like the Mini Lip Plump), and customer empowerment. This approach reflected the author's own journey of questioning established norms and seeking control over her own life and appearance, contrasting with the church's emphasis on external authority and prescribed behavior.

Finding partnership. Collaborating with Andrea Robinson (Dre) in building Beauty Lab + Laser provided a supportive and empowering partnership. Unlike her previous experiences, this collaboration allowed her to be her full self, blending her Mormon background with her evolving identity, and finding success by working with another woman rather than being subservient to a man.

10. Embracing Flaws and Finding Belonging in Unconventional Spaces

I could be myself, unequivocally, without obligation to represent the church, my family, or my dwindling faith.

Authenticity over perfection. The casting process for The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City became a pivotal moment, offering a platform to be her authentic self, flaws and all. Producers were interested in her story precisely because of her struggles – her divorce, her single motherhood, her departure from strict Mormon norms – rather than despite them.

Finding belonging. The world of reality television and the friendships formed within it, particularly with women like Meredith Marks and Whitney Rose, provided a new sense of community and acceptance. These relationships, often messy and unconventional by Mormon standards, allowed the author to feel seen and valued for who she was, not for a curated, perfect facade.

Letting go. The journey through divorce, building a business, and entering the public eye culminated in the realization that the church's unconditional love was conditional, tied to strict adherence to rules and expectations. Choosing to live openly as a "Bad Mormon" was not a rejection of her heritage but an embrace of her true self, finding freedom and belonging by letting go of the need to conform and instead walking her own path.

Last updated: May 16, 2025