Last month I got a comment from a woman on my instagram chiding me for feeling angry about something related to Mormonism. I like to think that I am immune to comments like that, but turns out, unsurprisingly, I’m not.
I’d made an observation about a playbill I saw at the theater where my daughter has her dance class. Maybe it was the wrong moment for me to come across it because I’d spent the day on the phone with insurance trying to sort out how to get my MS medication, but when I saw the the playbill with Brigham Young’s face on the front and the caption speech bubble above him reading, “I bet you want to know how many wives I had.” I snapped a photo and posted in my instagram stories saying that this is why women like me are still angry with the church.
Sure, maybe I didn’t need to post about it. Maybe it was me being petty. I don’t think it was though. As I allow myself clarity about my anger toward the church (not the people), but the institution that allowed men like Brigham Young to marry a few dozen wives and then expect us to giggle about it a century later, the more I am able to trust myself.
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