I was raised Mormon, does that mean I should be an influencer?
How to make the best of religious trauma
It’s complicated. Inside and out. Let’s start with the latter…
I can’t with Utah curls. The shiny and relaxed mid-length curls with straight ends. They’re too perfect. The cultural quest of perfection ingrained in Utah Mormons (spilling over to local non-LDS folk too) is something my epigenetic trauma wants to run far away from. No thanks, I’m allergic. It’s why Heather Gay’s Utah-based Beauty Lab is such a success and a place I’m very afraid of.
The hypocrisy of no coffee but, sure, have all the plastic surgery you want makes the word of wisdom read like a bad e-book from a misogynistic life coach named Sven.
There’s a spectrum of Mormon perfection bookended by Real Housewives of Salt Lake City and Sister Wives. One is sleek, the other is frumpy but both are made up of members (current and former) with the same religious programming. The quest for the perfect life, the perfect body, and/or the perfect discipline come from the same place. Like the proverbial hills that Julie Andrews sang of, they are alive with the sound of sameness.
Or what I call: shared trauma.
It echoes the level of denial I’m in about my cultural roots and ten years of my upbringing being tied to a religion that I personally denounce.
Obvi Mormon perfection is rewarded online just as much as on TV. You know I’m talking about MomTok. These ladies are in full-face no-makeup makeup glam, dancing in sweatsuits. Polished, not haggard, most with three under three with them at home.
The quest for perfection predates the MomTok/Ballerina Farm/capitalistic homesteading influencer boom. I was raised with the tales of my Utah-bred father being knighted as such by my grandmother. “Oh no, he’s a perfectionist!” Pair that with being thrust into the LDS doctrine at the age of nine, when I learned was brainwashed with concepts like the word of wisdom, purity promises, and all the pressures of conformity just to be deemed reverent, holy, worthy.
The thing about perfection is that it looks so easy from the outside. It makes you want to drink the Kool-Aid (not the god-fearing MAGA kind, don’t worry). But I can’t help but watch The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives and wonder: if they can do it - and I came from a similar background - why can’t I?
My motive is not to be known for the same things they are. But the financial security - ding ding ding - that’s the allure. If I stop resisting just a little bit, do I have “it” inside me? If you come from a similar background, do you? I don’t have the answers yet.
Now I can hear the objections, but these are just a few select people who’ve “made it”. But hold my Vida tequila… I’ve validated this success-perfectionism paradigm in IRL too. (Also, sidebar: have you noticed how many entrepreneurs from Utah make it on Shark Tank?!)
When you’ve lived through religious trauma, it’s important to ask yourself: where does the conditioning stop and the freedom begin?
Because the question I pose in the title of this post doesn’t even touch on the important considerations of privilege and conformity. Trying to become even a little bit of what you escaped can be a series of therapy sessions waiting to be scheduled.
But if it’s just a mindset reframe to give a needed confidence boost, then that’s a safer, healthier move. Because we all have our own audiences and voices to discover vs staying small (which is another not-so-fun byproduct of religious conditioning).
So when you’re inclined to compare yourself with these “together” Mormons and Utahans and find yourself wondering “what’s in the water?” ...
The answer is always: perfectionism.
And if that scares you too, just close your eyes and think of Emma Chamberlain - who shows us perfection isn’t required. In fact being perfect is pretty pretty pretty boring.