In this post, I’m going to include something I wrote for By Common Consent in November, when my father made his last trip to the temple to be with my niece, Amber, his granddaughter, who was being endowed. It was miraculous that Dad was able to attend. Another niece of mine, Kristen, will be endowed on Friday, but we will not get the miracle this time. Dad is not up to it. We talked last night, Dad and I, for a... Read more
It’s slightly old but very good news now. The LDS Church has added to its scriptures. For me, the addition to Official Declaration 2 (the statement that “all worthy males” could now be ordained to the priesthood, undoing the policy restricting those of African lineage from priesthood and associated privileges) is particularly significant: Book of Mormon teaches that ‘all are alike unto God,’ including ‘black and white, bond and free, male and female’ (2 Nephi 26:33). Throughout the history... Read more
Preliminary explanation, because inevitably somebody doesn’t get it: This is one of those risky posts–a satire. Think Stephen Colbert. The subtext is real, however (like Colbert’s). The truth is, Mormons in Utah (particularly older ones) are often uncomfortable with Blacks and overly eager to prove that they’re not. The question “What should I call you?” pops up over and over again, and the conflation with African nationals and African Americans is common. The LDS Genesis group, organized in 1971 when all church... Read more
On June 27th, 1844, Mormon Church founder Joseph Smith, Jr. was assassinated. He was, at the time, running for the presidency of the United States. LDS missionaries, unaware of his death, carried his platform for weeks afterwards as part of their proselytizing efforts. The winner of the 1844 election was James Polk, a slaveholder who made gains in territory but gave a de facto nod to slavery. He was succeeded by yet another slave holder—Zachary Taylor, who survived only part... Read more
My father’s doctoral dissertation is titled Yucatec Maya Noun and Verb Morpho-Syntax. I find that an impressive, even intimidating title, though I’m not sure what it means. I amazed my elementary school teachers when I told what my dad “did.” Nothing common like doctor, lawyer, banker or accountant. My dad was “an anthropological linguist.” Picture me at age eight saying that. The typical response was, “Oh.” When I think of Dad working on his dissertation, I see myself romping around a... Read more
Mike doesn’t remember it, I’m sure. He was twelve years old. I was eight. I was hopelessly infatuated with him–as any eight year old girl would have been. He was adorable. Picture this: dark hair styled like Paul McCartney’s; grey-green eyes; tall and still verging the growth spurt that would make him a lean specimen of manhood any artist could use as a model for Peter the Apostle. He was my uncle George’s best friend. I was certainly perceived as a bratty kid–and... Read more
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