Growing up in a tiny California village with only 300 full-time residents—mostly Catholics, Mormons, and Christians—in the late ’80s was nothing out of the ordinary. Everyone was free to practice whatever religion they chose because, well… it was California.
My family were Christians who attended church in a small community center, which welcomed both locals and visitors. Our village, nestled in the Sierra Nevada mountains, thrived on skiing in the winter and camping in the summer, making it a seasonal hub. Occasionally, I was invited to attend services with friends, giving me insight into their beliefs— they shared their rituals, customs, and Sunday school teachings. Religion was simply part of our culture; I never questioned it. I just followed the social norms my family and everyone else seemed to embrace.
It wasn’t until we moved to Southern Utah that I began to notice a shift in religious culture. As many people know, Utah is home to a large population of practicing Mormons—but I was not one of them. I was a Protestant Christian.
The Girl Who Doesn’t Belong
During my first week of middle school in a much larger town filled with young Mormons, I wore a necklace that my Catholic friend from California had given me as a farewell gift. It was a reminder that she cared deeply about our friendship—so much so that she had handmade this beautiful necklace, complete with a cross. I was delighted to wear it in my new school.
As the students began to notice my presence, their curiosity grew. New students were rare, as most of them had grown up together since birth. A young lady starts a conversation with me by assertively stating, “We don’t wear crosses here and you need to take off your necklace.” I looked at her in confusion and she continued, “Go ahead, take it off.” I refused to take off my necklace and was appalled by how rude she was to immediately make demands. I mean, who does she think she is?!
Later that night, I reluctantly removed the necklace, tears streaming down my face. I just wanted to fit in with my new peers and avoid any disruption. I wasn’t one to make waves—I simply wanted to find my place in this new environment.
As time passed, I came to understand that the Mormon faith emphasizes Christ as a living Savior rather than focusing on his crucifixion. That strict, religious teen—who had never been exposed to religious diversity—had only been defending her beliefs.
When you think about it, I was a religious minority after all. Who was I to be so audacious as to show up wearing a symbol of Christ’s crucifixion? It felt as if I had walked into someone’s home with pristine white carpet while wearing muddy shoes—completely ignoring the neatly stacked shoes by the front door. As baby Michelle from Full House would say, “How rude!”
Don’t Go Poking Your Nose Where It Doesn’t Belong
As time went on, I began to understand their religious culture and did my best to navigate this new way of life. I learned about everything from Joseph Smith and Wards to Bishops, Mormon temples, baptizing the dead, and even their sacred undergarments. They welcomed me into their faith with open arms—but I quickly realized it was not a two-way street when a friend of mine accepted an invitation to my church, who happened to be the bishop’s daughter.
That wasn’t the end of our friendship, but it was certainly the end of me visiting her home. I had unknowingly crossed a boundary that, to the local bishop, was unforgivable.
This moment opened my eyes to just how seriously some people take their religion. But it also raised a big question: If everyone believes their path to the pearly gates is the only way, then who is right?
My family firmly believes that giving your life to Christ through salvation and baptism is the only path to eternal life in heaven, and they will preach that belief until the resurrection—or until they are “called home.”
I couldn’t shake the thought—what if they were wrong and the Mormons were right? It kept me up at night, weighing the possibility. The entire Southern Utah town was certain their way was the only way, just as my family was—and still is—just as certain of the same.
Left vs. Right
I’ve had many conversations with people about religion and their beliefs, mostly out of curiosity, and I’ve found myself wondering why so many people are deeply rooted in their religion.
Typical answers are along the lines of, “I’d rather believe than risk the consequences of eternal damnation.” Fair enough!
Some people say, “Finding Jesus saved my life because…”—followed by a beautiful story of redemption, transformation, and hope.
Regardless of what religion they chose, their beliefs are strongly rooted in their psyche and no number of circumstances or debates will sway those beliefs.
This is the energy I’ve been noticing in our politics since the 2024 elections, especially since the Republican Party won the election. Everyone who supports this administration is digging in their heels, regardless of how it affects them or others, and they defend every action—right or wrong.
Their party is the only way—their religion is the absolute truth—and how dare anyone question it? It has reached the point where some non-Republicans are gaslighting themselves, wondering if they’ve missed something along the way, because true Republican supporters are certain this party will “Make America Great Again”—whatever that’s supposed to mean.
This whole experience is resurfacing memories and emotions from my time as a non-Mormon living in Mormon country. Honestly, I’ve been working through my own inner struggles, trying to wrap my head around how we’ve reached this point. I had believed America was moving toward growth and equality, but instead, it has exposed just how many people resist diversity and justice for all.
Here we are trying to go about life as if this is part of the culture with many protesting and fighting to protect our rights such as women rights and voting, social security, education, LGTBQIA2S+, veterans, and now federal employees.
Many Roads Lead to the Same Destination
We aren’t only left or right, Mormon or Catholic, educated or uneducated, etc. We are complex human beings with desires, fears, traumas, and concerns. No matter who is in charge, everyone has a voice and matters.
What if there wasn’t just one party that could “save America”? Maybe—just maybe—everyone has a valid point to make, and we all have something we deeply believe in. Like the father who fears his son will be sent to war, the woman terrified that her rape could lead to an unwanted pregnancy, or the person who worries that their gender identity could put their life at risk.
What if there isn’t just one way into the pearly gates of heaven because God is reaching out to everyone in a way that speaks to them personally?
In a conversation with a dear friend who studied theology, she shared her belief that different religions exist as pathways to reach the masses. Rather than being about right or wrong, they offer people a choice—a way to connect with the divine in a way that resonates with them.
You can say, “I am a Republican” or “I am a Democrat,” but the truth is, there are likely things you secretly disagree with on both sides. Most people lean one way or another, but that doesn’t mean they fit neatly into a single box.
I would love to see the division between Left and Right fade and instead focus on what is truly in the best interest of all people—not just a select few. We are witnessing how deeply religion and personal beliefs can divide an entire nation, to the point where it threatens to unravel everything generations have worked so hard to build—everything some have even given their lives for.
What paths lead to freedom for all?
We all have insight, perspectives, and wisdom to offer, but the real question is: Who is truly for the people? Who will ensure that everyone has a seat at the table to create real, lasting change?
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